Monsters Inside Us

The deathcharger's hooves thudded in a rhythmic pattern as the creature slowly made its way down the poorly repaired road in the Eastern Plaguelands. Beckyann sat atop it, her form swaying in time with the creature's movements, her eyes distant as she was lost in thought. Alone on the road, the purple armored, blonde haired woman was a spec of bright color amongst the gloom of the plague-riddled trees around her.

And so begins my inauspicious career in the 1113^th. Have I made the right choices so far? Will they appreciate my skills, or will they discover that I've my own mind on things and try to stamp out such thoughts as that elf implied they would? Is such a thing even possible? My will survived even through the domination of the King, and his own fall.

The blonde shook her head, trying to banish such thoughts. It didn't really matter whether she was appreciated, or whether the elf had been right; they were dead. Such games, games of the mind, were the only sport left to them. The only thing that they could do to pass the time and glean pleasure from, or at least they were to Beckyann's thoughts. Politics, intrigue, and the pursuit of power and riches were motivators now. That and the sense of having a family, having brothers and sisters who suffered alongside you, who understood what you were. One never got to choose one's family, in life or death, and Beckyann would have it no other way.

As the last thoughts passed through her mind, her deathcharger came to the crest of a small hill and began its downward descent on the other side, giving the woman's glowing blue eyes a clear field of view for some distance down the path. Her gaze immediately came to rest on a large clump of figures surrounding a carriage on the road ahead, flashes in the dying sunlight indicating the movement of weapons. She had clearly stumbled upon a raging battle, and she pulled up on her reins, studying the scene before deciding how to proceed.

Down the road ahead, her unnatural sight could make out the forms of men armored in gleaming plate with well made swords fighting back to back against what looked to be a band of ragged men dressed in an assortment of leathers. Most of the fighting was contained on one edge of the road, with the large, well appointed carriage dominating the center of the path. Beckyann's eyes drifted over the conveyance and she immediately perked up in her saddle as she took in the richness of its design and decoration. If the exterior of the vehicle was so lavishly designed, what must the interior hold? It was clear now that a noble's party had met a bandit ambush along the road, and this close to Acherus it was partially the duty of the Knights of the Ebon Blade to see to it that order was maintained.

It was clear what she had to do, and there could be some reward in it.

With a grin, Beckyann kicked her undead steed hard in the flanks and the beast snorted before bursting into motion. Its hooves pounded against the crumbling road now at a pace that might kill a living animal if it were to step in a hole. Beckyann paid such concerns no mind though; the creature she rode was a thrall, and if it was injured or died she would create another one. It meant little to her in the end.

In only a few seconds the creature had eaten up the distance between the battle and Beckyann's previous position. The death knight pulled back hard on the reins and then guided her steed off to the left as her eyes caught the sight of one of the bandits making his way around the exterior of the carriage, unnoticed with the raging conflict of the guards and bandits on the other side of the road. With a grin, Beckyann jumped from her saddle, drawing her runeblade in a smooth motion as she ran towards the man.

“Halt!” she yelled, her purple plate boots pounding on the soft soil of the plaguelands as she raced towards him.

The man turned to look at her, his hand slipping from the door handle of the carriage as he blinked in surprise. Dressed in ragged leather armor with a rusty sword at his hip, it was clear he had fallen on hard times. He smiled at Beckyann, his grin missing several teeth, “Get lost lass, unless you want to be split in two like those fella's on the other side'a the road!”

Beckyann skidded to a halt, her eyes boring into the man's as she opened her mouth to speak, “In the name of the Knights of the Ebon Blade, I order you to ce-”

Her words were interrupted as a sword was jammed into her back. A second bandit had come up behind her, unnoticed in the noise of the battle going on nearby. His weapon was a rusty longsword that was still sharp enough to slip between the plates of her armor and plunge out of the front of her abdomen. She blinked in surprise once before slipping from the blade to the ground.

The bandit that had stabbed her kicked her hard once before offering his companion a grin and stepping over her. The first bandit chuckled and then turned, his hand reaching out for the door handle on the carriage. His hand was halted as something warm and hard collided with his shoulder, the warmth spreading down his back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an object bounce away, and as he turned his gaze he gasped in shock as he realized it was the head of his companion. He was covered in the man's gore.

The bandit turned, reaching for his sword and drawing it in haste. Where his companion had been the blonde haired woman stood once more, a grin on her face and brackish red-black blood oozing from the wound in her belly. Between her glowing eyes, the diseased blood spilling from her, and the way the pain of such a wound did virtually nothing to hinder her, the man knew he was in trouble.

“You didn't let me finish,” Beckyann almost purred. “So impolite. Fear not though, we'll have plenty of time to discuss it.”

Face pale with shock now, the man wordlessly charged at her, his blade coming down in a sweeping attack that would cleave her skull. The rusty old weapon was met in mid-air by a glittering runeblade; the impact of the two swords shattering the bandit's weapon and hurling pieces to the ground all around them. The bandit was left holding only a six inch piece of blade above his hilt. His eyes widened with fear.

“Oops, how unfortunate,” Beckyann said with a smile. She stalked towards the man, who raised his weapon and tried to slash at her with the broken blade. This time Beckyann was less forgiving and her runeblade came up and sliced the man's hand from his arm mid-wrist. He looked at it in shock before falling to his knees, screaming in agony.

Beckyann stepped forward, one of her boots lashing out and kicking the man into the dirt. He writhed there for a moment, and the sight brought strange feelings throughout her body. At her temples, she could almost feel her pulse pounding. Her tongue came out, running across her blackened lips as she almost felt her heart beating within her ribcage. Sensations she rarely experienced since her death seemed to flow through whatever diseased fluids filled her veins, and she took a deep breath the like of which she no longer required.

She studied the bandit for a moment, her blonde hair falling to frame her face as she looked down at him. He squirmed in the dirt, desperately holding the stump of his arm. Beckyann's eyes half closed and her mouth opened slightly as she brought her runeblade up and gently pressed it against his gut. With deliberate, precise movements she pressed ever so slightly, letting the sharp point dig into his flesh and then slide in an inch. His screams rose, as did the pressure and sense of pulse in her temples. She smiled, taking another deep breath and pushing the blade deeper now, her wrist turning and twisting it to inflict more agony on the man.

The bandit convulsed, his screams blood-curdling as he tried to curl into a ball around the sword that pinned his gut. Beckyann's eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed the pure sensation of hurting him. Fortunately for the man, the moment was interrupted by a loud, commanding voice behind the death knight.

“I believe you've incapacitated him miss, that will be quite enough,” the gruff voice stated.

Beckyann let the breath she'd taken sigh out as she opened her eyes, her hand pulling the runeblade free. The man continued to sob and tremble on the ground as she turned, her baleful gaze taking in the sight of a knight in silver armor with other men-at-arms standing behind him. Many of them wore now-dirtied tabards of white, blue, and gold that depicted the emblem of some noble house or another.

The man in the lead nodded once, his eyes taking in the nature of the woman before him before his gaze swept over the surrounding countryside, checking for more assailants. Seeing none, he stepped around Beckyann, sheathing his sword and removing his helm. The men-at-arms behind him stepped forward and grabbed the whimpering bandit on the ground, dragging him away.

Beckyann turned and watched as the black-haired man's face was exposed. He was handsome, his features having a classic elegance to them as he reached up and opened the carriage door. From her angle, Beckyann could see that the interior of the conveyance was indeed as lush as she expected it to be. Her view was quickly blocked as a blonde-haired woman in an expensive dress stepped towards the open door. Upon seeing the knight unharmed, she nearly began to weep and rushed into his arms, holding him tightly.

The man turned and nodded again to Beckyann, his arms around the woman. “You have done well this day, Miss. The Lady Gwenneth was not injured in the attack thanks to your intervention. We were making our way to Light's Hope to honor the heroes of that place when these curs intercepted us. You have our thanks.”

Beckyann's eyes stayed locked on the man as his lady wept on his shoulder pauldron. Inside, she felt a stab of hateful jealousy as she took in the woman's fine dress and the silhouette of the two embracing each other. Here was everything she had wanted to earn in her life. Wealth, power, luxury, and the hand of a powerful warrior and champion. Here was everything that had been robbed from her when that life had been extinguished. Here was everything she could never have. She nearly hissed in anger before brutally bringing her own emotions under control.

She responded in a hollow, eerie tone, “It is my duty to see to it that these lands are purged of threats to our Hold and to our allies. I am bound to lay waste to those who would dare challenge our order so close to our home. The rest of your journey should be more uneventful I would think.”

The man nodded again before turning to usher the now composed lady back up the stairs. She turned her gaze towards Beckyann, her brown eyes conveying her thanks and appreciation. Beckyann simply stared hatefully back at her, and surprise crossed the woman's features before she quickly got into the carriage.

Beckyann turned, stalking towards her deathcharger. The creature tried to bite her as she drew near, as it always did, and she punched it hard to stifle it's defiance before pulling herself into the saddle. With a last look at the men-at-arms and their commander, she kicked the creature's flanks and it began to trot off into the distance.

As the carriage and site of battle passed from sight, Beckyann almost sighed with relief before she looked down, seeing the tear in her tabard and the damage done to her custom made armor. She growled once, muttering to herself.

“Great. Now I'll have to spend time at the forges repairing this. And you KNOW the Hold isn't going to have the right color dye to match this. What a great end to a rather pathetic first patrol.”

Fortunately for the deathcharger, it was unable to offer any reply that would have gotten it another cuff to the back of the head as the death knight continued on her way, her mood stormy.

Old Haunts

The sun had set a little over an hour ago, the last light fading in the gathering gloom of the Eastern Plaguelands. The night was only contested by the flickering flames of the bonfire in the center of the Argent encampment, the light glinting off of the armor and weapons of the men who were tending to the camp and keeping watch. Although parts of the Plaguelands had been reclaimed by the living, the undead still roamed the lands, especially during the nighttime hours. It was cruical that the crusaders maintained their guard whenever they stopped to make camp.

As the last of the tents were pitched and the horses were being tended to, several of the men sat by the fire, preparing their evening meal and quietly discussing the advances they had made against the undead during the day. They spoke in hushed tones, trying not to draw more attention to the camp given the nature of the wildlife in the region.

Just as the last of the horses had been given water and the camp's night guards were getting into position, the sound of a horse's hooves could be heard echoing in the night. They came on at a slow but steady pace, growing louder as they drew nearer to the camp. Given that they were in the Plaguelands, the sound immediately caused alarm and several of the men by the fire grabbed their weapons and rose slowly, facing the source of the noise.

In the gloom of night the approaching rider pulled up on their reins, the horse pausing just outside of the light of the campfire. The Argent Crusaders could see the glint of light reflecting from deep purple plate armor, and the rider appeared to be sitting atop an armored warhorse.

“Who goes there? Identify yourself!” one of the crusaders shouted.

The rider paused for a moment, the night's silence surrounding the camp and indistinct figure. After a moment, a voice echoed with a hollow tone from the chain cowl that covered her head, “I am merely a traveler who is passing through,” an eerie female voice responded. “My saddle has a tear in one of the straps, and I thought I would ask if you had any supplies that I could use to mend it. It will only take a few minutes and then I will be on my way.”

The Crusaders exchanged glances with each other, their weapons lowering slightly but not being put back in sheaths. Finally the crusader that had spoken initially responded, “Aye lass, you can mend it here, although it's not often that we encounter travelers at night in these parts. The roads aren't safe, and I'd recommend you continue your journey in the morning.”

In the gloom the rider dismounted, her heavy plate boots thudding in the dead soil of the plaguelands. She didn't respond, and instead merely patted the side of her horse's neck and then walked into the camp, a crown-like helmet and chain cowl concealing her features. One of the crusaders pointed to a nearby stack of crates and the woman wordlessly walked in that direction, seeking the leather needed to repair her damaged saddle. Behind her, the crusaders near the fire again exchanged glances, and the one that had originally addressed her stepped towards her, even as she reached up and removed her helm to get a better look at the supplies. Her golden blonde hair spilled down to her shoulders, and she knelt down as he walked closer.

"Lass, did you hear what I said? It's not safe here at night. You should consider making camp here with us and continuing on in the morning," the crusader said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Her head snapped around with an almost unnatural motion, and balefully glowing blue eyes regarded the man that had dared to touch her. Almost instantly the man retracted his hand, his breath escaping in a hiss through his teeth. Behind him, the crusaders near the fire gripped their weapons tightly again.

Beckyann offered the man a grim smile before rising and turning to face the man, a strip of leather in her hand. She shook her head, her golden locks bouncing and then falling still to frame her face. She would have been beautiful, had she been a living woman. Her voice echoed out, hollow and dead, the sound not having changed since the removal of her helm, "I think...that you would all be more comfortable if I did NOT remain in your camp."

She began walking towards her horse, which remained outside of the fire's light. She paused halfway there, giving the crusaders another appraising look that was met with dour grimaces and white knuckles on weapons, "Besides, I'm so close to home. There is nothing here that will harm me. Not now. Have a good evening gentleman. As my kind say, suffer well."

With that the woman walked back into the gloom towards her mount, her armor glinting dull purple one last time in the fire's light before she was lost from sight. In the darkness outside of the camp, her mount hissed at her in a very un-horse like manner that was met by a muffled curse.

The men looked at each other and shrugged, slowly relaxing as the sound of hooves drifted over the camp five minutes later. They settled down near the fire, none of them in the mood to sleep now.

**************************************

Beckyann Eastberg grinned as the wind howled through her hair, her deathcharger's hooves pounding away at the soft soil beneath her. With a cruel grin, she dug her heels into the undead beast's flanks, urging it on to ever greater speeds as she headed towards the faint outlines of dilapidated buildings in the distance up ahead.

The town was ruined, and what was worse, it was filled with Scourge and Cult of the Damned members. She had known that before she set out though, and it didn't bother her beyond the passing thought that such creatures now inhabited her former home. Corin's Crossing had not been a place she had lived for many years, and the girl who had once lived there was very much passed from the world.

Just before she reached the outskirts of town, Beckyann pulled sharply on the reins and urged her steed off the path and into the nearby hills, her glowing eyes scanning the foggy night for specific signs. It was a trail she had not used in a long time, and one that she hadn't thought of before her interview with Commander Nis. The other death knight had asked her how her memory was, and Beckyann had responded that she remembered everything, but remembering and actually consciously recalling events and places were two different things, and after giving it some thought, memories had been stirred that she had not thought of it what seemed like forever. Certainly not in THIS life at least.

As the diseased trees of the plaguelands drew all around her, Beckyann brought her mount to a halt and slid from the saddle. The undead beast immediately attempted to snap at her, and she cracked it across the muzzle with the back of her gauntlet, glaring at it until it backed away from her. She grinned, tilting her head to crack her neck before turning and striding into the foliage, looking for something.

In the distant night, howls erupted as one of the plague hounds that now inhabited the former beautiful forest around Corin's Crossing began hunting prey. Beckyann ignored the unnatural nighttime sounds, her eyes searching the trees for a specific mark. After a time she found what she sought; a heart carved into a tree. With a smile, she walked towards it, her fingers tracing the outline of the carving before she moved past the tree to the side of a small rocky hill that rose above the forest. She pressed her hands to the stones and whispered words of magic. The rock before her glittered and then faded, revealing the opening to a very shallow cave.

Beckyann smiled, ducking her head down to step into the opening and looking around. Within were several tables and chairs, bookshelves with a few books on them, and a mirror on the wall. Sconces on the walls were unlit, but the death knight no longer required the light of day to see as she moved towards one of the bookshelves.

She had once been a young woman who studied magic and lived in Corin's Crossing. In an effort to find a quiet place to study what pitiful magic a poor girl from the village could find, she had created the sanctuary in the cave many years ago, only abandoning it when she left to travel to Dalaran for formal training. It was the last little bit of her past, the last remnant of who she had once been. It had only come up in her thoughts after her interview when applying to the Knights of Menethil.

Beckyann reached out, taking one of the spellbooks in her hand. It had been there for all these years; all of her research into magic, a copy of everything she had learned and hoped to accomplish. A record of who and what she was before she passed from life and took a different path. With a sigh, the death knight took the object to a table, opening it and looking at the neat script contained on the pages. She looked up, her baleful eyes meeting her own reflection in the mirror over the table.

A dead woman stared back at her.

There was no denying it, no matter how she much she might remember, and despite what others might say, Beckyann was dead. The girl who had hoped and dreamed within the cave was dead. With a dull thud she shut the book, slipping it into a pouch at her waist. She looked around the room one last time before heading for the exit.

Just before she stepped out of the cave, she paused, looking back at the space where she had had such happy dreams years ago. She shook her head, whispering to no one, "Perhaps one day, when I truly rest, I will return here and dream again. For now though, the dead do not dream; we only exist. It is enough to know that I have found a new place in the world amongst brothers and sisters who understand who and what I am. Farewell."

She muttered in the language of death, and a howling gale of deadly necromantic magic flowed through the room, shredding the remaining furniture and books and destroying the sanctuary utterly. As the last papers fluttered to the ground, the death knight stepped from the opening, heading back towards her steed.

As she rode back towards Acherus, a single thought played through her mind.

Is existence enough, or is there more to this?  Is there truly a place for us in this world? Perhaps time will tell, but at least I will not linger on alone in my restless death. Perhaps then that is a start.

Erasing the Past

It was never entirely dark in Silvermoon City. Even in the deepest part of the night, magical lights glowed along most of the streets and illuminated runes directed travelers amongst the splendor of red and gold. It made it difficult for one to slip unnoticed through the streets, and even more difficult when one was doing something that technically could get a person in a lot of trouble. There were times when it was best not to be observed while you were undertaking an important task.

All of these thoughts were in the back of Balarae's mind as she made her way into the center of the restored portions of the city, her steps taking her up the broad walkway that lead into the Sunfury Spire. Dressed as she always was and appearing as any other spellcaster in the city, the guards paid Balarae little mind as the entered the spire proper. It was, after all, not unusual for Magisters to send their apprentices or associates to the spire at all hours of the day to consult with the Magistrate or to relay messages.

Once past the guards, Balarae relaxed somewhat, her pace slowing as she navigated the complex series of corridors within the spire itself. Although she had been there many times in the past, quite a few years had passed since those days and she found it difficult to remember the way. In the end, her hesitancy and apparent confusion would lend itself well to the image of an apprentice sent to perform some duty for her master. Balarae smiled at the thought as she turned another blind corridor; she had not even conversed with her brethren in the arts since her return to the city other than to volunteer for a few minor tasks in Eversong and later the Ghostlands. She preferred to keep a low profile until she could determine how best to apply her skills, and that is what she was going to do.

Her thoughts quickly shifted to the task at hand as she turned one final corner and came up to a decorative door in the passageway. The elf paused, her head tilted to listen for the sound of anyone coming from either direction in the hall or for sounds beyond the door. She stayed motionless for a few moments, not even a stand of platinum blonde hair moving as she concentrated. Finally, convinced that she was truly alone, she murmured the words to a spell; a spell that was far beyond the skill of the simple apprentice that she appeared to be.

Magic hummed in the air for a moment before the door in front of her glowed in response. With a soft sigh a latch clicked as the lock disengaged and the wards on the door fell silent. Balarae had activated those wards many times in the past, and she knew exactly what she was doing as she slipped into the room. Beyond the door was a small chamber that was filled from wall to wall with shelving that reached to the ceiling. Books, scrolls, manuscripts, and other items were neatly stacked and organized within the room. There were thousands of such objects; enough for a person to spend months looking for something. Balarae had come prepared though, and again murmured the words to a spell. A small orb of magic flashed into existence in front of her, slowly drifting across the room and hovering before a specific set of papers. Without hesitating, Balarae hurried to the shelf, scooping the papers up. She gave them a brief glance, easily recognizing her own writing on the papers.

She slipped the entire stack into one of her pouches and then extinguished her magical orb. With one last glance at the huge magical archive she hurried from the chamber, resealing the door and retracing her steps from the spire. Despite her anxiety, she forced herself to walk casually out of the spire and into the city before mounting her hawkstrider and riding out the Shepard's Gate. It would not be until she was out of Silvermoon City that she would relax, breathing a sigh of relief.

**************************************

Hours later Balarae sat in front of a small camp fire in Eversong Woods. She threw some wood on the fire until it was of a decent size and then withdrew the papers from the pouch. She stared at them for a time, her own handwriting on the pages a haunting reminder of what she had become, of the things she had done with her life. Each word, each penned letter on each of the hundreds of pages was like a screaming condemnation in her mind. Slowly she took the first of the pages in her hand and gently laid it down in the fire. Her blue-green eyes would occasionally catch a brief glimpse of the writing as the parchment curled and blackened in the flames, and her own voice echoed the words in her mind.

"We must remain true to our cause here. We cannot allow the risks to make us fearful and hold us back."
"If we are to be reborn as a people, our work here must proceed. We need to obtain new sources of power as the Prince ordered. His orders were clear and we need more resources to ensure that we can carry them out."
"Initial tests have shown great energy potential. I am fascinated by the results and plan to further this line of work."
"Demonic energies can be used as the focal point for the energy source if needed. As it is, we will need to obtain some stronger materials for the weapon housing if it is to be effective and easily deployed. I would suggest fel iron."
"We lost several of our warlocks to the thirst today. Their sacrifice will be remembered when this project is done. We must push forward, no matter the cost. Our Prince is counting on us. The salvation of Quel'Thalas is all that matters now."

The words echoed in her mind as page after page was consumed by the fire. Balarae shook her head and sighed as she watched the pages burning. Each of the letters had been sent to the Magistrate or to the commanders of Firewing Point as the project there had moved forward. Balarae's reports were not the only ones from that venture of course, but they were a vital link to who and what she was and had already been perused by others. If she wanted to change the future, it had to start by erasing the past and starting anew. It was the only way.

With a sigh, Balarae took up the entire stack of papers and hurled them at once into the flames, no longer desiring to read them. She stood, turning her back to the fueled fire and simply watching the embers drift into the air; the ashes of her past blowing away on the wind. The physical remains of who and what she had been could be destroyed easily; it would be another matter for her to bring peace to her own mind.

In the flames behind her, one last letter began to blacken and curl atop the flaming pile, the last words slowly being consumed by the fire...

"....ninety percent effective. We have completed all of the initial testing, and access codes have been provided only to the individuals selected during our first trial phase. Our warlocks report that the device is relatively stable at this point, and that the results can be easily reproduced on a larger scale in the future. 

As you have ordered, I have prepared our magic to energize the device for our first trial run. I anticipate that the weapon will be prepared in twenty-four hours at the latest. I will compile a complete report of the results of the test trial. We await instructions on where to deploy the Mana Bomb for testing.

In the name of Kael'Thas Sunstrider, I remain your humble servant.
Magistrix Balarae Sunhaven
Sub-Commander of Research and Development, Firewing Point"

The Return- An Origin Story

((The first story for a new character, Balarae Sunhaven!))

The sun slanted down through the treetops on the mountain ridges far above, the fading day sending gleaming beams of light through the foliage and down into the narrow pass. Already the sky was turning pink and orange as the sun set, although between the jagged ridges of stone dusk was already beginning to settle.

In the middle of the narrow pass an ancient road wound its way between natural rock formations, the stones used to pave it long since worn down and turned, making for a difficult passage. It would have been an issue for carts or trade goods passing through the area, although such travelers had long since ceased to come that way. The road proved to be little difficulty for the talons of the pink and red hawkstrider as it made its way onwards towards a looming stone arch up ahead.

Atop the tall riding bird was an elf, her platinum blonde hair carefully pinned up to keep it out of her face while she was riding. She wore faded robes that had a number of magical symbols and wards on them, the gold and red of the outfit now dull and dirty from long travel. He belt pouches and the saddlebags on her hawkstrider bulged with magical components and objects along with her few meager possessions and travel supplies.

As the looming arches drew nearer, the elf pulled back on the reins, bringing the bird to a halt. Blue-green eyes gazed at the intricately carved stone pillars before her and the open passageway between them. She remained motionless for some time, the moment stretching on as memories stirred inside her.

It had been years since she had seen those arches; since she had contemplated passing through that gate. It had been years since she had gazed upon the gates of Quel'Thalas. Long, trying years filled with grief, anger, denial, and a decent into her own personal darkness. It had taken her a very long time to build up the courage to face those simple white pillars that guarded either side of the trail.

Her time spent wandering the Outlands, and later passing through the Dark Portal and making her way over the vast stretches of the Eastern Kingdoms had given her more than enough time to contemplate the fate she had been handed and the choices she'd made along the way. The original grief and anguish that the loss of her family and loved ones had stirred when Quel'Thalas fell to the Scourge had been slowly burned away, first by the fires of her determination, and later by the guilt that her choices had left her. Doubt had replaced certainty of purpose and remorse had replaced pride in work that should never have been undertaken.

For the longest time, for years even, she had lived inside a prison of her own mind. She had allowed the terrible things that had befallen her people to guide her actions. She had allowed grief and the burning need for revenge shape who she was, at the cost of her personal honor and dignity. It had taken a long time to come to understand that fact; the hardest thing a person could do was admit how very wrong they had been.

Balarae Sunhaven inhaled deeply, letting the breath out in a long gust of air, as if releasing years of built up tension. In this one moment, all of the threads of her life had finally fallen away, leaving only a singular course towards the future; a future she would have begun long ago if not for her own folly.

The mage bit her lip, frustration at herself rising up again and then passing away. Slowly her hands came up to her neck and removed a golden chain that rested there, a pendant on the end. She held the glittering gold object in the palm of her hand, staring at it from atop her hawkstrider.

"And so the past dies, and good riddance," her voice came out softly. Alone in the pass, there was no one to hear her speaking to herself. "Hopefully through those gates there is a place for me, not so that I can rest, but so that I can undo the past."

With a sigh, she jerked her hand, throwing the object she'd been looking at into the dirt. It glittered there, the gold catching the last rays of the sun as it set beyond the jagged peaks above her. Her eyes stayed on it a moment before she took up the reins in her hands once more. Through the gates ahead was the magical kingdom of Quel'Thalas. Devastated by the Scourge invasion, it had partially been rebuilt to its former glory. She would find a comfortable bed with silken sheets, fine wine, and rest at the end of her long road, but before she could claim any of these things she had to pass through those gates, and the region just beyond.

The Ghostlands. The place where her family, her lover, and everything she knew had perished in a single day of horror that had driven her down an insane path behind her fallen Prince. She would have to ride down that familiar road, and face those memories.

With a grimace on her face, the tanned blood elf snapped the reins once and the hawkstrider burst into motion, the white pillars passing on either side of her as she resolutely pressed forward. Behind her in the pass, a golden Firewing Signet was pressed into the dirt from the hawkstrider's passing, the last glimmer of the precious metal lost to the elf who had long ago defected, but had not yet forgiven herself for having joined them and the things she had done.

Balarae Sunhaven had Returned.

Operation Totally Awkward!

The hot water came down in a soothing stream, splashing against her head and running through her raven black hair. It flowed down her tanned skin, warming her and relaxing every muscle. Belleri sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and just enjoying the feeling of the hot shower raining down on her.

The Knox residence had gnomish plumbing and magical heaters installed throughout the structure, and since Belleri needed to remain close by, she had opted to use the guest bathroom on the lower floor. When she first entered, she had been surprised to find the collection of brass pipes over the elegantly tiled floor; she'd heard of such devices but she'd never had such luxuries back home at the Giano family farm in Elwynn. After a moment's hesitation she had stripped down and stepped beneath the humming pipes, twisting some knobs until the almost heavenly flow of water had started.

Since reinforcements had arrived and she now had two additional rangers to station around the Knox residence, Belleri had given herself exactly six hours of off-duty time. This would allow her to bathe and perhaps catch a quick nap. She would follow-up with two hours of paperwork (she had so many reports to send in!) and then resume her guard duties. She could not stay up twenty-four hours a day after all, although if a spell existed to allow that she would surely try it!

She let the thoughts drift away as the hot, steamy water relaxed her. It glittered as it hung from the ends of her hair and her nose ring, and she found herself strangely bemused by the luxury of it all. After a time she began to hum softly to herself, an old tune that she'd been taught as a young girl. The moment was utter peace and relaxation; a stolen piece of time for the normally busy ranger.

It abruptly came to an end when she heard someone shuffling about in the room with her. Mortified and alarmed, she ceased her humming and reached out, grabbing the shower curtain and pulling it back forcefully, ready to confront the intruder. To her ever-lasting horror she beheld none other than Malandrae Moonwhisper, stripped down to her underwear, leaning over Belleri's pile of discarded armor.

As the shower curtain was jerked open Malandrae's gaze turned towards the source of the noise. Belleri had just enough time to bring an arm across her chest and shoot her free hand down to cover her nudity in a rather awkward fashion before the elf straightened and turned to face her.

"Oh my heavens, how much body jewelry do you HAVE?" Malandrae asked cheerfully. The ranger immediately flushed a bright crimson color; clearly she had not been nearly fast enough. The elf smiled pleasantly and turned back to Belleri's armor, speaking over her shoulder, "How in the heavens do you figure out all of the straps on these things? I totally asked Miss Kelliana once about her plate armor but I still just do not understand it!"

While used to showering in close proximity to others thanks to years of training, Belleri felt extremely off balance at the sudden conversation and presence of the elf. She managed to sputter out a short response, "Miss Moonwhisper, w-what are you d-doing in here Ma'am? A-and w-why aren't you wearing any clothes..."

Malandrae waved a dismissive hand at the human, still examining the armor. For a moment Belleri's heart leapt into her throat as she saw the elf reach out, thinking the woman was going to touch her rifle. Fortunately Malandrae simply picked up the chain top of Belleri's armor pieces while still speaking over her shoulder, "Oh Eldre'nor is using our main bathing room upstairs and she is singing offkey. I have a feeling she is doing it intentionally just so that I cannot take a bath. I thought I'd come down here and use this room. The ranger you assigned to me said you were down here so I figured you wouldn't mind since you'd know where I was and all."

Belleri blinked once and mentally made a note to assign a certain ranger to some rather extremely unpleasant duties later. After a moment she managed to speak again, "Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm nude."

Malandrae turned, dropping the chain armor and stepping closer to Belleri. Her eyes studied the human for a moment and then she smiled happily, "Oh yes! You poor thing, you must be freezing! Did you use the dryer yet?"

"D-dryer Ma'am?" Belleri asked, feeling completely lost now.

"Oh yes! Professor Knox put them in all the rooms!" Malandrae said with a smile. She walked closer, her almost nude body gliding across the room. She laid a hand on Belleri's shoulder and gently pushed her towards a wall. "Right here!"

Feeling utterly awkward, Belleri allowed the strange elf to guide her near a wall where Malandrae proceeded to rest a hand on a tile that was colored red instead of the white of the rest of the room. Immediately a small orb of flame appeared in the air over them, warming that small area of the room intensely. Belleri could feel the water drying from her skin almost immediately. She blinked in surprise, "O-oh. Dryer. Right. T-that's actually very nice Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am."

Malandrae nodded happily, and then paused, a hand running over Belleri's left shoulder. Her delicate elven fingers traced the line of a scar on the ranger's tanned flesh. "This is where the arrow was removed, isn't it?" she said softly.

Belleri nodded once, "Aye Ma'am. Please do not concern yourself with it. Such events are always a possibility when performing my duties Ma'am."

The elf nodded once, biting her lip and then slowly stepping away, her fingers sliding from the woman's shoulder as she moved back to the soft padded bench where Belleri's armor rested. She pushed a few pieces aside and sat, waiting for the woman to finish drying.

"Miss Belleri, do you ever take any time off?" she asked the ranger. For her part, Belleri had remained standing perfectly at attention, still covering herself.

"Ma'am?" she stammered. "I-I'm off right now Miss Moonwhisper. You have another Ranger assigned to you, as does Mixx Knox."

Malandrae shook her head and sighed, "That's not what I meant Miss Belleri! I mean time OFF. You're still thinking about your duty right now! There must be more for you to think about than that."

Belleri mentally groaned, not wanting to have such a conversation at all, let alone completely nude with mostly nude elf that was tens of thousands of years older than her. "Ma'am, I have duties to attend to. I s-should probably get dressed so you can use the shower."

Malandrae waved her hand again, "Oh don't worry, I'll use it in a moment! Really though, you should think about taking some time off! I have heard other people tell you this same thing! Maybe when you go on your date with Mister Karrsen!"

If possible, Belleri became yet a deeper shade of red, "Miss MOONWHISPER! I am NOT going on a DATE with Mister Karrsen. He is a PIRATE and I'm trying to make sure he is safe to be around YOU!"

Malandrae giggled at the woman and shook her head, "Don't be silly, of course he's safe! I'm a VERY good judge of character! Also I don't think going for a drink with him or going fishing is really a good way to check up on a person. It's definitely a date! Besides, he's SUPER cute isn't he? All those muscles, and those tattoos!"

Belleri audibly groaned aloud this time, shaking her head, "I-I'm sure Mister Karrsen is pleasing to the eye Ma'am. That is not what my intentions are tho-"

Malandrae cut her off with another giggle, "Miss Belleri, it's quite alright if those WERE your intentions. I think he's cute but it's alright if you do too! Besides, maybe relaxing would do you some good."

Belleri scowled at the elf; the situation had become too strange for her to handle any longer, "Miss Moonwhisper! I am NOT going on a date with Mister Karrsen! Now if you would PLEASE excuse me, I would like to get dressed!"

Completely not getting the hint, Malandrae gestured at the pile of Belleri's clothes beside her and nodded, "Oh sure! And by the way, it's alright you know."

Belleri rolled her eyes and stepped towards the elf. Having no other option, she quickly snatched up her undergarments and began slipping them on, ignoring the fact that the elf was staring at her. "What is alright Ma'am?"

"To like someone, or to want to like someone. Or even to love someone," Malandrae said happily. "It adds something to your life, enriches it you know? Even if you don't want to admit it, or if you CAN'T."

Belleri, now at least in her underwear and able to stop covering herself, frowned at the elf, "I have loved in the past Miss Moonwhisper. It was some time ago."

The elf bobbed her head, acknowledging the comment, "Oh that's super good then Miss Belleri! That means that you know that it can be good! I'm happy to hear this! Maybe there is hope for you yet! You don't have to admit things to me of course, but if you ever want to talk about such things...well I'm here!"

Belleri groaned again, "Thank you Ma'am. I'm sure that will not be necessary Ma'am."

Malandrae giggled, "Of course it is silly. I will tell you a secret so when you feel ready you can come to me. We'll be like secret friends! I TOTALLY love someone did you know that?"

Belleri shook her head, "No Ma'am, I did not. Do you want to tell me the person's name so I can give them security clearance?"

Malandrae shook her head, "Nope! I don't! Because she doesn't belong to me. That doesn't matter though you see? I love her anyway, and when she's happy I'M happy, even if someone else is making her happy. Do you know what I mean? Love itself adds something to us! She may never know how I feel, but I will always try to make her happy, and I'll be happy in return."

Belleri studied the elf carefully and then shook her head, "Ma'am, I don't think we should be discussing this. Such a topic has no bearing on my duties and they come first and foremost."

Malandrae studied the ranger silently for a moment before sighing, "You are a tough one Miss Belleri, but one day we will see a peek beneath your duties to the real you. Anyway, totally think about what I said okay? It's alright to feel things you know! It makes you stronger, not weaker silly!"

With that the elf rose and began stripping the rest of her clothing off, leaving it in a pile on the floor and stepping towards the shower. Belleri averted her gaze, steadfastly focusing on getting her armor on as quickly as humanly possible. Behind her, the water started going again and Malandrae's beautiful voice rose up in a song of her own. The ranger simply shook her head and snatched up her rifle once she had finished pulling her boots on. Holding the weapon seemed to steady her, giving her a moment to balance her thoughts.

**********************************

A moment later the door to the downstairs guest bathroom opened with a thump and Belleri stalked out. A small gnome woman in combat armor with pistols strapped all over her gave Belleri a salute, which the Ranger Captain returned. The smoldering look in her eyes promised the gnome that she would become quite familiar with potatoes in the near future. The ranger captain stalked away, even as the the faintest hint of a smirk crossed the gnome's lips and the sound of Malandrae's singing filled the lower floors of the house with a haunting melody.

The melody, and the words, would remain with Belleri for the rest of her day.

Operation Broken Blade

Dragonblight Sector
Venomspite Region
2200 Hours

The Deathguard paused on his patrol, his boots sinking deep in the freshly fallen snow. Moonlight reflected dimly off of the white around him, but he paid it little heed; he was not out to enjoy the beauty of the landscape after all, and he gave little thought to such sights in his undead state. The snow was more a nuisance that impaired movement than anything else, another trial in the unjust unlife that saw him stationed in the unforgiving North in the Forsaken outpost of Venomspite.

Above the Deathguard a bird cried out mournfully in the night. He tilted his head back, his dimly glowing yellow eyes seeking the source of the sound. Owls frequently hunted in the evening hours, their cries echoing off of the lonely frozen landscape. This one had sounded unusually close though, as the wildlife of the region generally preferred to avoid the Forsaken and their holdings.

The arrow made only the faintest whisper of sound as it cut through the air, embedding itself in the Forsaken's neck. He blinked once in surprise even as the magically enchanted arrowhead began to sear away the rotted flesh of his neck, traveling up into his skull. His vocal chords already burned away by the magic, the creature silently fell lifeless into the snow, dissolving slowly from the magic and venom on the tip of the weapon.

After the Deathguard had stopped moving, there was the slightest hushed sound of cloth moving, and a pair of silver eyes studied the fallen creature in the moonlight before gently brushing snow over it.

Moments later, there was nothing to be seen; only a lonely patch of snow that looked as if it had been undisturbed.

**************************

The three Deathguards trudged through the thick snow as they circled the outer wall of Venomspite. The snow had begun to fall heavily again, with almost no relief for those who were forced to live in Dragonblight. While immune to the chilling effects of the cold, the trio of undead grumbled loudly about being forced to march around the perimeter of the small Forsaken town. Since most of the Alliance and Horde forces in Dragonblight had been withdrawn back to their homes, it had become increasingly unnecessary to maintain any sort of watch around the place, and each of the Deathguard knew that they were wasting their time.

Snappish even with each other, the trio turned around a corner of Venomspite's wall, pausing as movement caught their attention. There, a little away from the edge of the compound, a green-hued owl flopped about in the snow with one of its wings extended outward, almost awkwardly. As the three watched, the creature jumped and flapped the wing, the other wing remaining tightly pressed against its body. The three looked at each other and grinned; clearly the owl had been wounded somehow and it gave them the perfect opportunity for a bit of fun.

"Let's pluck its feathers out one by one," the leader of the three said with a raspy voice. The other two chuckled and they advanced on the helpless bird.

As the trio approached, one of them moved ahead of the others, stepping towards the flapping, flopping owl, "There there little one," he cooed, "this will only hurt a little bit."

The sound of his voice covered the sound of an arrow in flight. The weapon embedded itself in the neck of the Forsaken furthest from the owl. He made not a sound as he toppled over dead in the snow, his companions unaware of his demise. The first of the Forsaken reached for the owl, clawed hand just about to grasp it when the bird suddenly unfurled its second wing and leaped into the air, claws extended.

The Deathguard didn't expect the owl to lurch at him, and claws tore deeply into his rotted face as the creature took flight. The second Deathguard turned to check the location of his companion and gasped as he saw him lying dead in the snow. He brought a shield up just as an arrow flashed through the air. The weapon struck the wooden shield and shattered it with magic, causing the Deathguard to curse and shake his injured arm.

In the meanwhile, the owl had blinded the first deathguard and snatched up his sword before flying off. The now disarmed Forsaken cursed and dashed after it even as his companion reached to his belt to pull out a horn; he knew that they were under attack and had to warn the town.

The undead creature never got a chance to use his horn. As he brought it to his lips a third arrow slashed through the air, severing his spine at heart level. The undead creature gasped once and fell into the snow face-first to lie unmoving. The third Deathguard, who had run some distance through the snow, turned to stare at the sight of his two dead companions. Even as he did so, the owl gave out a mournful cry in the air over his head, and another arrow cut through the cold northern air.

A moment later, there was only silence and the eerie wail of the blowing wind.

*************************************

She left not a single footprint in the snow as she ran. It was a skill that her lithe body and elven agility imparted to her, and even the other rangers were impressed when she did what they called 'snow walking'. She dashed quickly across the frozen terrain, using her momentum and experience to leap from one patch of snow to another, always choosing snow with a thick enough crust of ice on it to temporarily support her weight.

It made her fast; faster than the deathguards around Venomspite at least. It was an advantage that she had to use to its best potential as the patrols around the town were separated by only 15 minutes. That meant the elf had five minutes to get in, five to complete her objective, and five to exit before the next patrol found the three dead bodies. The thought flashed quickly through the Ranger's mind and made her smile as she ran.

Erawyn always did enjoy a challenge.

As she approached the outer wall of Venomspite, she didn't slow down. Instead, she actually increased her speed, her eyes on a wrought iron fence that lead up to the much higher stone wall around one of the buildings. The structure had a huge metal sphere on the roof with electrical discharges shooting into the sky now and then, along with several large tanks on the outside of the building. Erawyn knew that this structure housed the apothecaries of the town, and she knew that her target objective must be within it.

She dashed through the snow, reaching the waist high wrought iron fence in moments. She jumped into the air, a delicate foot coming down on one of the upright supports of the fence. Without slowly down, she jumped forward, her other foot landing on the next upright. Every third one was built to support the weight of the fence; the rest were capped with deadly sharp spikes.

Paying almost no heed to the danger, Erawyn focused and continued to dash along the deadly fence, increasing her momentum as it lead to the edge of the stone wall. As she approached, she used her speed and the height of the fence to leap higher than she would have been able to normally, her boots briefly touching the top of the higher stone wall and her hands outstretched to catch the lip of the structure's roof. Long elven fingers dug into the snow that covered the shingles, finding purchase at the edge. She hung there for a moment, then began to swing until she was able to do a backflip up onto the roof.

Erawyn paused for a moment, making not a single sound. Breathing heavily, she reached down and placed some of the snow from the roof in her mouth to prevent her breath from fogging and giving away her position. Her outfit was made of form fitting white leather, and with her silver eyes and short cropped silver hair combined with her almost white complexion, she was able to blend easily into the snowy background of the roof. She carefully began to make her way across the structure, peering into the center of the town once she reached the edge and confirming that the way was clear.

Seeing no one, Erawyn dropped off the edge of the roof, using one hand to hang herself in place. She pulled a knife with her other hand and pried open a window on the side of the building, using her hanging position to allow her access to the top of the window frame. After popping the locks, she slipped a bit of oil onto the outer edges and slide the glass open swinging and dropping down inside with almost no sound.

Her elven eyes adjusted to the darkness inside almost instantly, taking in the rows of chemical storage vats and alchemical equipment that the apothecaries used to perform their experiments. At this time of night, the place was mostly abandoned and silent except for the bubbling gurgle of an experiment on the floor below. Erawyn paused to get her bearings, her memory recalling all of her mission briefing and the layout of the structure. After a moment, she nodded to herself and unslung her bow from its place on her back, making her way stealthily down the hall.

At the end of the corridor she found two doors. Her mission briefing had told her that one lead deeper into the rooms that the apothecaries used for storage, while the other was to a holding cell that they used to hold experimental prisoners. She turned towards the prison and tried the handle, finding it locked as she had expected.

She looked around to ensure that no one was about to approach and set her bow down, pulling a vial out of a pouch. Within it was a bubbling green liquid; something she used to coat her special arrowheads. She took an arrow and dipped it in the liquid before scraping it across the lock on the door. The liquid was made from a mixture of animal venoms, and was a caustic acid. It immediately began to eat away at the door lock and Erawyn smiled as she watched the metal melt. She discarded her used arrow, picked up her bow and pulled the door open.

Within the unlit room her eyes detected the outline of a form slumped on the floor in the far corner of a dirty little cell. As the door opened, the figured moved slightly, the rattle of chains coming faintly to Erawyn's ears. She hurried forward, kneeling beside what appeared to be a very very mistreated human male.

"Agent Sarkov?" She murmured. The man looked at her with his one unruined eye, the rest of his face a mask of blood and diseased cuts.

He groaned once and then nodded before responding in a gurgling voice, "Y-yes. Forsaken caught me t-three days ago. Seen better days..."

Erawyn frowned, studying the man closely. He had wounds and bruises all over his body, and several of them looked badly infected with diseases that could only be related to the blight. The man had seen his last days of life, and might seen many more days of unlife. She shook her head, ignoring all of that for the moment, "I need your report."

The man grimaced and nodded, "Should have figured they wouldn't have sent ya to rescue me. Not how SI:7 works. I got it all here. Bastards didn't realize my jacket was double lined. Long story short though, they moved their experiments from here to Silverpine. Definitely working on new forms of Blight from what I could tell and what's been done to me since."

Erawyn nodded once and proceeded to open the man's jacket. Ignoring several infected and horrific looking wounds on his chest, she cut the lining of his clothing open with her knife, pulling out a detailed report on the apothecaries in the region and their activities. She tucked it into the top of her leather armor and nodded once. The man reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not going to make it," he stated flatly. "You know this."

She nodded once and without a word reached down and pulled a vial from her belt, holding it up in front of him. He studied it and then nodded, "Poison then. Go ahead and do it lass."

She shook her head, "Poison of a sort." She leaned forward and tilted the vile into his mouth. The man swallowed it and grimaced again, preparing to die. What he did not expect was for fur to begin to sprout on his body. Although his wounds didn't heal, his shaped began to change painfully.

"W-what...what's happening..." he croaked, his body shaking violently.

Erawyn pulled her combat knife out and sighed, "It was worgen blood. Now they won't be able to revive your corpse when they find you in the morning. I'm sorry."

Small growls escaping him, the man glared at her, "Yer a hard lass aren't ya? Just promised me you'll avenge me."

Erawyn nodded once and then leaned forward, slitting the half-turned worgen's throat. "I was forged from steel, yes. And no, I can't avenge you. I have orders to follow. Your vengeance will come in time. I WILL remember you."

And then she was up and moving, leaving the dead corpse behind her, the secret report tucked safely in her armor. Seconds later she had flipped back up onto the roof, replacing the glass of the window so as not to give her enemies an extra clue to follow her.

One minute later she was concealed in the woods surrounding Venomspite, just another wisp of wind in the cold northern air.

She'd completed her mission with four minutes to spare. She grinned to herself as she made her way back to the rendezvous point; it was always nice when things went exactly as planned. DOSO High Command would be pleased, and on top of that, the information gleaned tonight would give them some insight into the activities of the Forsaken and their apothecaries.

A time of reckoning was coming soon, much sooner than the Horde realized.

A Dream of Blood

Blood dripped from the edge of the blade, drop by drop. It fell into a small puddle, which grew larger with each drop. There was nothing else in the vision beyond that puddle and the blood that dripped into it. After a time, the view expanded, and it was clear to the dreamer that the blood dripped from the metal edge of an axe. It glowed with power, a feeling of hunger around it that could not be denied. A thousand thousand deaths it had caused, and still it hungered for more, endlessly seeking life to feed itself. A reaper of souls...

******************************

Mariskka jerked awake, her nearly naked body glistening with sweat as she shivered from the after-effects of the dream-vision. The small room she rented in the Blue Recluse surrounded her, but still a deep sense of dread and unease filled her as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes and shake off the disturbing thoughts. The dream, like many of her dreams, was a vision that meant more than the symbols within it, and it was up to her to determine what it all meant.

As she sat up, she almost immediately got confirmation that her dream was a dire portent. With her special sight, she could feel and see the presence of unsettled spirits within the room around her. They whispered to her, their words urgent and barely heard. She tilted her head, the last bit of sleep rubbed from her eyes as the voices grew louder.

"She suffers!"
"The axe will be restored. There will be more unless you do something!"
"They will take the souls of those you love, there is no hope for you, you are DOOMED!"
"You will suffer more than the rest!"

The draenei's eyes widened in surprise and she waved her hand futilely in the air as she slipped from the bed. The voices continued to whisper around her, disembodied spirits shrieking words that quickly became less and less comprehensible. While she was used to spirits and elementals speaking to her, they rarely did so with such violence or anger, and she stumbled away from the bed in a disoriented daze as they continued.

"No! Be going avay! I am not understanding, cannot be helping you, no!" she murmured, still flailing her hands.

She pushed open the door of her small room, stumbling into the hallway of the Blue Recluse. The voices trailed after her, spirits needing no doorway to pass their forms through the walls as they continued to harass her. The draenei shook her head vigorously, her messy ponytails bouncing around her face and doing little to dissuade the dead from communing with her.

In the dark, she stumbled down the hallway, her hooves sounding loudly on the wooden flooring as she came to the edge of the stairway leading down to the common room. She blinked her eyes, trying to shut out the voices around her and she decided to head down and try to get some fresh air, despite it being deep in the middle of the night. As she started forward, a particularly gruesome poltergeist shrieked something about her blood spilling down the edge of the axe, and she slipped backwards. Her rump hit the first step and she bounced, tumbling down the stairs and painfully smacking each and every step before coming to a rest in a heap at the bottom.

The voices of the spirits softened as she sat up and pulled out a small stone totem. She tossed it onto the ground before her, and the soothing light of a Tranquil Mind spell bathed the area around her. Almost immediately she felt her thoughts calm, and the voices of the dead trailed away to whispers of nothing.

Bruised, unsettled and upset, Mariskka sat on the bottom step of the stairs, crying quietly to herself in the empty common room. After a time, one of the inn's workers came out to check on the noises he'd heard, and found the red-eyed draenei sitting in only a wisp of nightgown, rubbing her eyes and sniffling.

"Are you alright miss...?" he asked, looking her over in concern. She had a few fresh bruises on her arms and legs, and looked like she'd had a rough night; not necessarily an uncommon thing in one of Stormwind's many taverns, although usually such things didn't happen while the establishments were CLOSED.

Mariskka gave one last sniffle and bobbed her head. "Am knowing something terrible is happening. But vhat is being I cannot see. Cannot be helping if am not knowing, yes?"

The man nodded, patting the shaman on her arm. "Perhaps if you get some rest you can think about it, and it will come to you? Everything seems to be just fine right now, and it'll be dawn in another few hours. Time enough to figure it out then."

Mariskka smiled at him and nodded again. "Yes. Is alvays being darkest before day. I vill go back to room and be thinking of this. If there is being something I am needing to do, I vill find out and be doing."

She rose slowly, and the man held up his candle so she could see as she made her way back up the stairs to her room. He shook his head and sighed; Galvan probably would have enjoyed finding a half-naked shaman sitting in the common room in the middle of the night, but if she was going to make so much noise it would drive the other paying customers away. With another sigh he snuffed out his candle and headed back to his room.

The voices of the spirits remained silent, they had told the Seer all they were willing to, it was up to her to discover the rest on her own.

Duty and Sacrifice

Teldrassil Sector
1050 Hours
Escort Duty

The two mages chattered away as they walked through the forests of Teldrassil on their way to the moonwell. Beside and behind them, the elf and human rangers trailed along, ever alert to threats in the wooded area. The day had been uneventful thus far, and after some argument Malandrae and Ilhedith had managed to convince their guardians that a trip into the forest to visit the moonwell and collect some water samples would not be an issue. The magic might even come in handy when determining how to deal with the satyr threat.

The group was walking down a wide dirt path in the forest towards their destination when the attack began. It started as nothing more than a glimmer in the air, but was something that both of the rangers instantly noticed and that drew the attention of the two mages as well. Magic swirled in a pattern at chest height, the spell widening until a portal began to open in the space that it occupied. Instantly the rangers brought their weapons up, even as the portal began to disgorge enemies.

The first figure had barely stepped from the portal before Belleri's rifle roared and a shot threw them to the ground dead. The second attacker had only a split second to orient themselves before an arrow took them and they fell beside the first. After that, a wave of attackers poured out, a few more shots and arrows slaying some of the combatants before they were even fully aware of their surroundings.

The enemies were unusual in appearance. The group consisted mostly of kaldorei elves who were entirely naked. Upon their bodies they had either carved, painted, or inscribed a variety of demonic runes and symbols until they had entirely covered their flesh with the markings. They looked savage, and many held rusted weapons or bows in their hands and had wild expressions on their faces as they bellowed warcries. Behind them, the portal widened a bit more and one final figure emerged, shouting encouragement to them. Taller than even the elves, the creature had hooves and horns and hair over much of it's lower body and was instantly recognizable as a satyr; likely one of their foe's greater minions.

The two rangers continued to fire, their barrage taking a devastating toll on the charging elves. Ilhedith gasped as she saw the horde of creatures pouring towards where she and Malandrae were standing. She whispered a spell and surrounded herself in a protective shield of magic. Seeing that Malandrae was staring in shock at the bellowing tide of enemies, she reached out and touched her friend, placing a second shield around the elf. It was not a moment too soon as arrows and darts arced towards them, slamming into the barriers and falling harmlessly to the ground.

Four more of the elves died, two shot in the heart and two with arrows sticking from their chests as Belleri and Erawyn efficiently fired their weapons. The surging group of enemies withered under the fire, and the attackers were forced to turn and face the rangers or risk being completely obliterated. Arrows arced towards the elf and human as the savage demon-worshipers returned fire. Two more of them fell even as they attempted to slay the rangers, the accuracy of the guardians far superior to the untrained and wild attacks of the satyr's assault force.

Belleri sighted down the length of her rifle as one of the kaldorei aimed a bow at her. She squeezed the trigger on her weapon just as her enemy fired. The elf flew back, the lead shot penetrating her heart even as her own arrow soared through the air and struck Belleri in the chest. The tip slid against Belleri's mail armor, piercing it but deflected upwards. The shaft snapped from the pressure as the arrowhead was driven far up into the human's shoulder.

Belleri felt herself falling backwards as the weapon impacted against her. She landed in the dirt of the path, her rifle thudding into the soft soil nearby, the barrel smoking slightly from the extensive use it had just had. The corners of her vision began to dim even as she heard the steady thrum of Erawyn's bow and the cries of the elves that she was slaying. She saw the sky above her through the branches of the tree limbs and then a shadow loomed over her and a heavy weight pressed down on her as the Satyr sat on her mid-section.

The creature looked down on her, its demonically twisted elven features smirking as it pressed a large, clawed hand against Belleri's wound. Despite herself she cried out slightly and the sound only made the creature laugh as it moved it's head in close to her, a rancid smell of death surrounding it.

"So fragile. So hurt," it hissed. "I'm going to kill you and your friends. I'm going to save you for last though. When you wake up, you'll have no arms and legs, but you'll live as I eat you bit by bit. Yes, I think that will be fun, don't you? I'll eat you alive little human."

It emphasized its words by pressing harder on her wound, and Belleri fought against the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her vision. She couldn't move her left arm at all, and the pain was intense as she shifted her body, finding her right arm still fully functional. It slide against her side, her hand grasping desparately as she glared up at the satyr.

The creature leaned down further, pressing its weight against her wound and grinning. It's grin was cut short a second later as Belleri's still-working arm came up, the muzzle of her pistol pressed so hard against its chin that it was forced to tilt it's head back.

"Eat this you bastard," she said in a deadly calm voice as she squeezed the trigger.

The satyr's head exploded as the weapon discharged at point blank range, and the weight lifted from Belleri as its dead body was hurled away. On the path beyond her, what was left of the attacking elves cried out in terror as their leader was slain. Erawyn took full advantage of the moment, efficiently drawing and firing her bow over and over again. Three more attackers fell dead, arrows sticking from their corpses, before the entire group broke and began to run.

Erawyn didn't stop, her face totally focused as she drew more arrows and let them fly. Now she was hitting the elves in their backs as they fled, cutting them down before they could reach the safety of the forest beyond. One by one they died, their last cries carried into the undergrowth around them. The last elf paused, seeing her companions dead. She turned to face Erawyn, her hands raised in surrender. The ranger calmly brought her bow up and fired it again, her arrow taking the surrendering enemy in the heart. The forest fell silent as her body tumbled into the bushes, Malandrae's gasp the only sound.

"S-she was surrendering!" the Highborne cried out.

Erawyn completed a visual scan of the forest around them before turning to face Malandrae and Ilhedith. "Ranger Giano is a casualty. As such, I am in charge of this mission until she has been seen to. I cannot protect you, tend to Ranger Giano, AND control a prisoner at the same time. The elf was a demon-worshiper and she was well aware of the potential consequences of her actions."

Erawyn paused, placing her bow on her back and moving towards the pair, "I need you to follow my instructions precisely. Miss Knox, please face to the west and Miss Moonwhisper face to the east. Please keep your protective spells active and watch for signs of additional attackers while I tend to Ranger Giano."

After seeing the two nod numbly at her and move into position, Erawyn moved to where Belleri had fallen and kneeled beside her. She snapped her fingers a few times until the woman's glassy eyes focused on her. "Ranger Giano, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

She received no answer and began to frown. She reached to her belt and pulled out a canteen, using a bit of the cold water on Belleri's face. Her voice softened just slightly, more emotion than Ilhedith or Malandrae had heard her use before, "Damn it Bell, pay attention."

The cold water seemed to work as Belleri focused on Erawyn's face, "H-here. I'm here."

Erawyn nodded once, leaning forward to examine the wound. "Ranger Giano, you have an arrowhead lodged in your shoulder. The shaft snapped and I cannot push it through. I have to remove it in case its poisoned. Do you understand?"

Belleri nodded once before croaking out, "J-just do it."

Erawyn nodded again, immediately setting to work. She took out a combat knife, using it to cut away one side of the straps that held the halter of Belleri's armor in place. She carefully folded the leather strap several times before slipping it into Belleri's mouth. "Bite down."

The human did as she was instructed and Erawyn moved the knife up to her shoulder. With precise, careful movements she began to cut away the flesh that concealed the arrowhead. Belleri's entire body shuddered and her back arched as she clamped down on the excruciating pain, her tan flesh going pale and breaking out in sweat. She thought back to her training, using it to guide her.

In the north, we do not cry out, as it will call the undead upon us and they will feast on us while still alive. We do not cry out, as we will draw allies to us and place them in danger. When you fall in battle, when you fail in your mission, you do not cry out. You pass without a sound, the way a ranger aught to die.

The procedure was mercifully short under Erawyn's skilled hands, and soon enough flesh had been cut away to free the weapon. She pulled it out, checking the broken bit of shaft to ensure that no pieces had splintered off into the wound before taking bandages from her field kit and wrapping them tight to staunch the bloodflow. "The wound is clean. You are hereby ordered to receive medical treatment in the Temple of the Moon Ranger Giano."

Belleri nodded once, her free hand removing the tooth-mark ridden leather from her mouth. "Help me up. I'll walk."

Nearby, Malandrae (who had NOT been on watch as she was instructed!) gasped and shook her head, "N-no! We'll use magic to carry her, or get guards. She's been HURT!"

Erawyn turned and leveled what was almost a glare at the Highborne. Her voice was tinged with the slightest hint of anger and she used no formal form of address when replying, "She said she'll walk."

Behind Malandrae, Ilhedith placed a hand on her apprentice's shoulder and shook her head softly, "No Malandrae, it is between them I think. The wounded do not place a burden on their unwounded comrades. At the same time, you don't leave a wounded comrade behind for the undead to find. Isn't that right?"

Erawyn nodded again once, "Just so." She rose, walking around to Belleri's good side and extending a hand. The human grasped it, and with a gasp managed to drag herself to her feet, leaning heavily on her elven companion. Together the two began a slow walk back towards Darnassus and the help of the Temple of the Moon.

"Wait!" Malandrae cried out, running up behind them. "You forgot your thingees!"

To Ilhedith's horror, Malandrae was holding Belleri's rifle and pistol in each hand. Quickly she darted forward, snatching them from the elf's hands and forestalling a disaster, "I'll be taking those Malandrae. Thank you. We'll return them to her after she's been healed."

Shaking her head, Malandrae fell in behind Ilhedith as the two followed the rangers back to the relative safety of Darnassus. Behind them in the clearing, the bodies of elves who had dedicated themselves to fel powers were left to rot in a forest that would eventually reclaim its wayward children.

A Stroll in the Forest

*While waiting for others to work on a few pieces, I present you with another amusing look into the lives of the wonder twins. :) Enjoy! Also can't seem to post notes on B's account, who knows why!*

The sun shone down brightly through the canopy of leaves, illuminating the forest floor of Elwynn with a brilliant light. Birds sang and the sounds of nature filled the air as the two night elves walked down the well-kept road towards the sleepy town of Goldshire. Both of them walked slowly, their eyes watering from the daylight and their feet already beginning to ache since they had not bothered to put on appropriate travel shoes.

The two had set out in mid-day, believing it would be best to learn how to at least adjust to daylight since their human instructor preferred these hours, and also because she might be a tad grumpy to come home and find all of her things packed in bags, ready to move. The two Highborne had been in a panic since they spotted demons in the city, but as it turned out their concerns were not based on sound facts, which they learned to their dismay. A trip away and out of Professor Knox's hair would do wonders!

As they neared Goldshire, the two paused, looking at the various intersecting roads in confusion. The taller of the two elves turned to her friend, a puzzled look on her face.

"Which way Malandrae? The Professor took you out here after all, you should know!" Eldre'nor said with a smirk.

Malandrae blinked in confusion before finally nodding her head past the Lion's Pride Inn. "I think it was that way. The runestone was by a lake and I see water over there, although I seem to remember walking further than this..."

Eldre'nor snorted and began walking in the direction indicated, "As if we haven't walked far enough already..."

With a nod of agreement and a wince for her aching feet, Malandrae followed after, the two heading deeper into the forest. As they neared the edge of Crystal Lake, they skirted around it, heading towards the far side in search of the runestone that Ilhedith Knox had shown Malandrae the day before. As they pressed deeper into the forest, the two quickly made out the outlines of structures along the shore deeper in. Curious, they headed onwards, beginning to make out wood and leaf constructs that were on stilts near the lake's edge.

"What curious buildings," Eldre'nor said with a smile.

"I've never seen them before! They must be built by smaller humans!" Malandrae replied with excitement. "Let's go greet them!"

As fortune would have it, the two elves had little reason to go any further to greet the 'residents' of the village, for out of the foliage nearby two humanoid creatures appeared. They were far shorter than the elves and covered with a slimy, blue-green skin. Sporting two large, wide eyes and frills on the tops of their heads, the little creatures blinked in confusion at the elves.

"Oh how delightful! Other forest dwellers!" Malandrae said with a smile, stepping towards the two creatures. Her friend looked puzzled and hung back.

"Malandrae...I'm not so sure..." Eldre'nor began.

"Oh nonsense! I'm sure it's fine!" Malandrae said happily, leaning forward to address the two. "Hello! I'm Malandrae Moonwhisper, Grand Apprentice of Professor Ilhedith Knox!"

"Malandrae, I do not think those creatures understand you..." Eldre'nor began.

Of course, by then it was far too late. The two murlocs looked at each other and back at the elves, and began to yell. "MRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGLE!"

"Malandrae! You need to slay them at once!" Eldre'nor said, stepping towards her friend. The other night elf turned and glared at her friend with indignation.

"By the Queen Eldre'nor, we cannot simply fling spells every which way! Professor Knox indicated that we are NOT to kill things with our magic!" Malandrae said with a pout.

A spear landed next to Malandrae as she spoke, the murlocs having become frenzied. Their calls brought the attention of more from the nearby village, and soon a crowd of them were nearby, hurling poorly aimed spears.

Eldre'nor rolled her eyes, stepping forward and hurling a bolt of icy magic at the first of the creatures, cutting it down where it stood. Malandrae looked at her in disbelief, unable to comprehend how she could go about disobeying the professor's instructions. She clapped her hands to her ears and began to yell loudly to block out the sound of her friend being rebellious. "LA LA LA LA LA! I CANNOT HEAR YOU ELDRE'NOR!"

More spears landed around the two as Eldre'nor hurled additional bolts of magic, slaying two more of the creatures. She sighed and began to cast another spell, pausing only to berate her friend. "Really Malandrae, you're quite boring as of late. You'd think after all of that time spent in the ground you'd want to do SOMETHING exciting. But no, even thinking of such a thing is a terrible burden on you isn't it?"

Malandrae lowered her hands, gaping at her friend in disbelief. It was obvious that her ear covering and singing had not blocked out Eldre'nor's words. "Well, I NEVER!" She leaned over and shoved Eldre'nor.

Unfortunately, Eldre'nor was in the middle of hurling magic missiles at the now large gathering of murlocs that was continuing to pelt them with projectiles. She stumbled, her hand going wide as the spell was released. A line of deadly magic missiles flew through the air, stitching up the side of a nearby tree with thunderous detonations. The wood shattered and the broken pieces of tree rained down between the elves and the murlocs. The fishy creatures used the obstruction as cover, darting forward and taking up positions behind the protection of the wood.

"Malandrae, you know it's true. I don't know why you are being so boorish today," Eldre'nor replied. "You simply are lacking imagination!"

Malandrae shot her friend a glare, her hands on her hips. "I'll show you a lack of imagination!"

She turned and flung magical dust into the air. It sparkled before blowing towards the murlocs cowering behind the downed tree. As it settled over a few of them, they began to sprout glorious manes of gorgeous flowing blonde hair. Eldre'nor looked on, unimpressed.

"You are simply copying MY spell that I wrote in my journal, can't you ever think of your OWN spells?" she sighed.

Malandrae merely smirked and pointed. As the two elves looked on, the murlocs with the flowing manes paused, the other murlocs around them confused at the sudden change in their companions. The battlefield fell silent...until the cracking of bones began to be heard. The maned murlocs howled as their bodies began to sprout more hair. Their backs arched as their bones broke and reformed, their faces becoming fanged snouts and their arms extending into sharp claws.

"I used the hair from that wolf-man that I was studying the other day to modify the spell!" Malandrae said proudly.

Eldre'nor nodded in appreciation of the work. "You've made a hair-loss cure for worgen! Impressive my friend! I shall have to copy this down in MY spellbook!"

As the two watched, the now-lycanthrope-murlocs began to attack their own allies, terrible howls echoing through the forest. The murlocs began to tear each other to shreds as they fought the afflicted ones, only to be bitten and turn into murloc-wolves themselves. Within a few minutes, the elves were looking at over twenty murloc-wolfmen, who growled and drooled with hunger.

"Um...Malandrae...this doesn't seem so safe," Eldre'nor said hesitantly.

Malandrae nodded sadly, "I know. The spell isn't perfected yet. I'm still working on the fine tuning."

As she spoke, the transformed murlocs began to howl again, slowly reverting to murloc form, and then back to wolf form, and then back again. Each time there was the sound of bones cracking and re-knitting, the process getting more violent with each passing minute. After a few minutes of this, all that was left were puddles of goo, unrecognizable as either worgen or murlocs.

Malandrae sighed, eyeing the mess over with disappointment. "At least they lasted longer this time! I need to experiment on a REAL worgen to see if I can get the spell to work properly!"

Eldre'nor patted her friend on the arm and smiled. "Don't worry my friend, your work is excellent so far! I'm confident that with some refinement even worgen will not have to fear male pattern baldness!"

Malandrae looked at her friend with a smile. "You really think so?"

Eldre'nor nodded. "I know so. Now, let's go celebrate shall we? I believe that town back there, what was it called...Goldshire? I believe there is a tavern there!"

Malandrae squeaked happily and nodded. "Yes yes! Let's have some wine!"

Eldre'nor nodded again and said, "Not too much though! I don't want you dancing on anything this time!"

Malandrae sighed and replied mulishly, "That only happened FOUR times! You really must let such things go my friend."

As the two walked away from the sight of the battle, Eldre'nor's voice echoed through the forest. "But it was the High Prelate's TABLE Malandrae! I mean really, show some sense!"

Malandrae's parting shot could be faintly heard in the distance, "It's not like he MINDED looking at my legs..."

Blessed stillness returned to the forest, and after a while, the birds and animals of Elwynn forgot their fear and returned to their regular day. Hours later, Professor Ilhedith Knox would be contacted by a messenger from Goldshire, with a request to remove her drunken and sleeping apprentices from the establishment so they could close for the night.

Heart of Wind

The ground was barren and torn to shreds by magic. It leaked from the wounded earth, its purple light leeching into the very sky and creating fantastical spires of strange twisted metal growths. Mariskka 'tsked' slightly as she surveyed the landscape, seeing firsthand the devastation caused in the Twilight Highlands by the Twilight's Hammer. It was just as bad in other parts of the world she knew, but seeing it like this from the back of her gryphon really gave her an appreciation for how dire the threat was, and how important it was to aid against this growing darkness.

As she turned her mount around for one last pass over the dreary scene below, her keen eyes picked out a sight that sent a jolt of worry through her. Amongst the tents and encampments that the Twilight's Hammer had set up at the base of their mighty bastion, a number of cages had been erected. Even from the great height at which she flew, Mariskka could make out tiny shapes within those cruel metal prisons.

Dwarves. At least a dozen, possibly an entire family or clan. She could see smaller shapes amongst them, the children of whatever unfortunate Wildhammer village the Twilight's Hammer had raided. She knew she couldn't just leave them there, not with the slave mines she'd already observed and the sacrificial altars that dotted the landscape. Her face set, the shaman guided her gryphon into a nearby ravine, quickly dismounting and sending it on its way.

She made her way carefully across the broken landscape, taking care to keep as low to the ground as her form would allow. She wanted to avoid being spotted as she attempted to free the prisoners. Given her large size and loud hooves, Mariskka was relatively surprised to find herself quickly making her way to the back of the cages, unnoticed in the heart of Twilight held territory. She made her way around to the side of the cages, even as the dwarves within noticed her and frantically gestured at her to set them free.

Mariskka made a hushing gesture with her hand, carefully setting her mace and shield down as she slid up to the lock on the front of the cage. She was in no way skilled at picking locks, and it took many agonizing minutes and not a few spells to finally free the first group of prisoners. They crowded around her, encouraging her as she slowly made her way down the line of cages, coming to the last one. It was here that she had the most difficulty with the lock, and she spent many minutes trying in vain to break the steel bolt keeping the dwarven prisoners inside. Failing to weaken the device, the shaman made her way around the exterior of the cage, looking for weaknesses in the metal. It was then that she made her first mistake.

She tripped over one of the tie-lines keeping a nearby tent upright. Her heavy hoof severed the line, which snapped back towards the tent. Instantly the makeshift structure collapsed, fabric raining down on the cultists that had been within it. They began to shout, thrashing around in the material as more cultists took up the cry, running from other nearby tents. Mariskka's secrecy had been shattered.

"Oh no!" she squeaked, seeing the rush of angry Twilight's Hammer emerging from the tents all around. She turned and quickly pointed at the lock on the cage. A shock of freezing cold frost struck the bolt, shattering it with a loud crash of metal breaking. Speed was far more important than stealth now.

As the last of the dwarves made their way from the cage, two things happened. The cultists that had been buried beneath the fabric of their tent emerged from the ruins and slammed into the first wave of cultists that was rushing towards the escaped dwaves. With a loud *thud* bodies collided with each other and a writhing mass of angry cultists fell to the barren ground, cursing each other. This fortunate event was quickly followed by the unfortunate accident of Mariskka tripping over another tent's tie-lines.

The rope that had encumbered her hoof snapped, wrapping around her leg and tent, shaman, and equipment racks that had been stacked within the tent all collapsed onto the ground. Mariskka scrambled to free her leg from the rope and her body from the material as she could hear more cultists running towards their location, and the ones already there sorting themselves out of the pile they had ended up in. She shoved material out of her face with a hand, clearing her line of sight to take in something that chilled her to the bone; a large group of angry cultists was rushing towards the freed dwarves, who cowered weaponless outside of the cages that she had just freed them from.

It was then that something happened which Mariskka had rarely experienced; her cycles of life overlapped one another. She had lived many centuries, and seen things both horrible and amazing in that time. In that moment, she didn't see the dwarves cowering before their enemies and she didn't see cultists rushing to butcher them; she saw demon-tainted orcs rushing to slaughter draenei children, a sight she had seen long ago and which, at the time, she had been able to do nothing about. For that moment, she was living a former life in a time when she had been forced to witness great darkness. The parallels between the two times and places were so uncanny that she felt goosebumps on her skin as she realized what it meant.

I am here for a reason. It is my destiny.

This time was not like her previous life in Nagrand. She was not a helpless priestess of the Light, unable to assist the weak in war. She had been reborn through countless hardships, adventures, and years of wandering that those events had pushed her to do. Many considered her a simple creature because of her inability to stay in one place and her lack of focus on danger, but she understood what it was to stand against darkness.

A peal of thunder rumbled in the distance as her hand slid down to the remains of the tent around her, grabbing the first thing she could find; one of the cultist's own axes that had been on the weapons racks within the tent. Her other hand closed around the haft of a second axe from the pile and she rose slowly, stepping between the angry cultists and the prisoners.

"Be going!" she called to the dwarves as she faced down the mob of rabble that had come to slay them.

One of the dwarves shook his head, "No lass. This is our fight too. We'll not leave you to fight 'em alone."

"Are having children here. Must be saving them, yes," She said calmly, her eyes not leaving the foe as they spread out to surround her. "Vill stall them until you are being safe. Is being my place."

The dwarf nodded slowly, looking back at the crowd of prisoners. At least five of them were children, and he knew they'd need to be led from the cultist camp before they were recaptured and sacrificed. "Aye lass. We'll be takin' 'em to safety, but don't think we ain't comin' back for yah."

Mariskka didn't hear him or see him. Around her, the very air itself whispered to her, the spirits of those she couldn't save all those years ago encouraging her. The elements of the highlands, so twisted by what the cultists had done cried out to her for revenge, sought to teach her what she needed to do. The sounds filled her mind and she stepped forward, almost in a trance.

The first cultist lunged, blade extended towards her. It hit nothing, for the wind had already whispered a warning to her and she was already moving. A second blade slashed forward, met by the head of an axe. A cultist had to dive as the second axe spun around at head height. A third cultist ran in, cracking the draenei in the hip with a mace only to drop it as lightning stung his hand.

The dwarves fled with their young back into the safety of the ravine that the shaman had come from, even as the air around Mariskka surged with fierce winds. Her axes lashed out again, shattering the blade of a cultist. Her hoof stomped down, crushing a foot as she whirled out of the way of another attack. Lightning crackled around the combatants, throwing cultists away.

The last dwarf in line paused before he descended into the ravine, turning to take one last look at the draenei that was willing to sacrifice herself for strangers. His eyes widened as spirits whirled in the air around her, taking on the forms of wolves and leaping on the enemies that surrounded her. He could barely see her amidst the raging wind, flickers of lightning and dust kicked up from the battle.

"Give 'em hell lass," He said quietly before following the others, seeing to the safety of the children she was buying time for.

As they pressed deeper into the ravine, the last thing they heard was the mournful howl of a ghostly wolf, echoing in the charred hills.

*****************************

Hours later Mariskka's eyes opened, seeing the twilight tinged sky far above her, drakes circling in the distance. A pair of eyes and a stout dwarven beard leaned down over her, a look of concern on his face.

"Easy lass, you're hurt bad," he said softly. "We came back for yah, just like I promised."

Mariskka said nothing, could say nothing as a small group of dwarven raiders lifted her from the ground where she'd been laying for hours, bearing her towards the safety of the nearby ravine and later towards one of the remaining Wildhammer strongholds in the hills so her wounds could be tended. She was too weak to respond, too tired to answer them.

As she was carried away from the site of battle, she did manage to tilt her head to see the ruins of the camp where she had fought, and the unconscious and slain foes that had laid around her. She smiled slightly before she passed out again.

She had finally put to rest one last piece of an old life, had given peace to a few more spirits that now lived on happily in their new lives. She had done something good here, and it would comfort her in her current cycle of life.