((The following RP story
contains some insight into Malandrae that she herself is unaware of. I
thought this would be an interesting way to illuminate some contrasting
things about her, such as why she is so timid but also capable of acts
of great bravery. I hope you enjoy! Also, I'm sorry but this is
mega-long.))
The rolling green hills of the Highlands flowed beneath Malandrae as her silver eyes scanned the terrain below. Her magical horse ate up the distance, allowing her to cover a huge amount of terrain in a relatively short period of time. Even so, she'd been at it for hours now, and still had not located the missing party of dwarves she had agreed to help find. What was worse, the wasted time could have been spent conjuring food for the dwarves who had lost their homes and given them much needed supplies. It was something the Highborne had taken on herself to do, thinking that it fit well with her acceptance into the Order of the Rose.
Frustrated, Malandrae shook her head and was about to turn the horse around and head back when something caught her eye in the distance. Although it was just a spec from so far away, she could see something flying in the air rapidly, and small flashes of light in the sky. Curious, she turned her horse slightly, staying low to avoid detection by any enemies that still lurked in the Highlands.
As she drew nearer, Malandrae could clearly make out the form of a black drake hovering in the air over a specific location. The flashes of light she'd seen were spells hurtling up from the ground and back down from the rider on the dragon's back. Even as she made these observations, a deadly spell flashed from the ground and struck the creature, sending it into a death spiral. Malandrae moved closer still, towards where the dragon had been hovering and she gasped in surprise at what she saw.
Down below in the grassy fields were hundreds of struggling figures. A group of what were clearly Twilight's Hammer cultists had surrounded a small party of fighters and were quickly overwhelming them. Even as she watched, Malandrae saw several figures knocked down and dragged off for quick sacrifice at the rear of the battle lines. The elf moved closer still, and she gasped again when she realized who the Twilights were fighting; gray skinnned orcs with dark black armor and weapons, clearly dragonmaw even from her distance.
That was when she saw the children.
The dragonmaw were desperately holding the line so that a small group of their women and children could escape from the Twilight ambush. As the elf watched, the women guarding the children began to draw weapons, realizing that they would have to fight to the death to protect the young ones. There were simply too many Twilights for the dragonmaw to stop, and Malandrae hesitated only for a moment.
She was not about to let children fall into the hands of the Twilight's Hammer. It made little difference who or what they were.
Without second thought Malandrae's horse plummeted from the sky, her heart pounding in her chest and terror creeping up her spine. She'd never been in a battle before, but she had no choice but to help. There simply was no other acceptable solution as far as she was concerned. She alighted on the field between the attacking cultists and the Dragonmaw rearguard. She quickly muttered a spell that would allow others to understand her.
"I'm with the Order of the Rose!" Malandrae shouted. She had no idea if the orcs had any clue as to who the Roses were, but she was hopeful that what Chelody had said about them being a relief organization would carry some weight. Whether they understood her or recognized her Order Malandrae did not know, but she took it as a positive sign that no swords were jammed into her back as she turned to face the cultists.
She had only seconds to think before they rushed her, seeing just another target to cut down. Song burst from her lips, magic laced in each word as she began to conjure the spells she's recently been practicing. Spells she had 'borrowed' from one of Professor Knox's spellbooks that the human had left out one day. Instantly a huge wall of fire sprang up, forcing the cultists back from the raging heat. Balls of flaming magic slammed into the ground with loud detonations, driving the attackers away from the flames and soundwave of energy.
Malandrae smiled and nodded as the attacking force faltered under the barrage. She was purposely trying not to hit any of them with spells, hoping to avoid any more causalities but knowing that what she was doing was unwise in the middle of a battle. A few of the cultists did get burned as the tried to step through her flames, but it was not her direct intention to burn all of them alive; she simply wanted to keep them away from the young who were trapped in the middle of the battle.
It was working well, or seemed to be. The Dragonmaw were rallying behind her, shuffling the children further from the battle lines as the Twilight forces fell back in spots to avoid the flames. At least, it was going well until the Twilights fought back.
It happened so fast that Malandrae barely had time to register the event. From the rear of the cultist's lines a dark shaft was fired, probably from a hunting bow. It flew through the air, arcing up and then falling, moving with incredible speed and force. The Highborne saw it only for a second before it was buried deep in her chest, right around where she believed her heart to be.
The pain was intense, both from the impact as well as the tearing that the wicked arrowhead did as it buried itself within her. Malandrae stumbled back, her magic dying down as her whole world became the shaft of agony in her chest. She stared at it dully, as if unable to register the reality of it. She noted that it was made of a dark oak, the feathers on it from some brightly plumed creature. Here and there drops of her blood glistened on the shaft, starkly contrasting with the beauty of the weapon's finish.
How strange. Such a little thing, such a beautifully made thing, to create such pain. To end my life.
Reality struck her then; the shaft had pierced her chest. Already she found it difficult to draw breath and she knew that it was a fatal wound. Her first battle, her ONLY battle, and she would die from an arrow.
Flo would be so mad. If she knew. She'll never know though. I'll just be gone.
Her eyes closed, blocking out the sight of the deadly shaft. In her mind, her life flashed before her eyes.
*************************************
A little girl stood alone on the balcony of her family's spire. Wearing an ornate dress, she quietly applied a brush to canvas, painting the image of the sun rising in the distance over Zin-azshari. She smiled as she created her art, her cyan hair bouncing as she nodded at the masterpiece unfolding. She always liked to paint in the mornings, when her family had long since gone to bed for the day and wouldn't chide her to stop wasting her time on frivolous pursuits.
**************************************
A slightly older elf laughed as she created a beautiful display of arcane magic in the air, lighting up the night with flashing patterns of light that came from her imagination. Others clapped and applauded at the display; her childhood friends gathered around to see the tricks she'd learned from her older sister's spellbooks. Hours later her sister would find out and tell her parents, and she'd be in serious trouble, but for that moment she was happy, the act of creation a gift.
****************************************
Now a young adult, Malandrae breathed deeply as she stepped into the Temple of Elune in Zin-azshari. As she looked on the marble walls and across the space to the glowing moonwell in the center, her heart sang within her. The Goddess called to her, and she answered it with all her being. For the first time she felt truly at peace, and it was a feeling she would always carry with her whenever she communed with her Goddess.
*****************************************
A smiling Malandrae sang softly, soothing away the fears and pain of her dear friend as she gently brushed the other elf's hair from her sweating face. The other elf looked at her and seemed to relaxed, clutching her hand tightly even as another contraction rocked her body, taking comfort from Malandrae's presence. Although all of their other friends had laughed at the elf when she decided to raise her child on her own, Malandrae had not abandoned their friendship, and stood beside her through that difficult night. It was a choice the highborne would never regret, not after seeing the joy of a new mother holding her child for the first time.
******************************************
An older Malandrae danced, her body a thing of art as she performed before a crowd of Highborne. All eyes were glued on her as she twirled and went through the steps of one of the most elaborate of dances. Her agile feet never missed a beat, her body never missed the perfect alignment of form as she finished. Her demonstration was met with thunderous applause, and she smiled as she bowed before the others, enjoying the fact that they had appreciated what she'd been able to do. She frowned as she saw two of her older brothers rolling their eyes and elbowing each other; they never did understand why she bothered to learn such useless things.
*******************************************
Malandrae stood on the wall of the Queen's Court, looking out over the city as it burned. She heard the screams of the innocent citizens of Zin-azshari as demons hunted them down in their own homes and killed or tortured them. She shook, tears pouring down her face as her heart broke for what her people had become, what they had done. She cast a scrying spell, forcing herself to watch the carnage, never wanting to forget a single moment of it, so she would forever know what she had helped cause.
********************************************
Malandrae gasped, coming back to the real world. Blood streamed from her nose and her eyes stared into the distance now. At some point during the flashbacks she had fallen to her knees, the weakness from her wound overwhelming her. It meant nothing now, because deep in her mind she felt something snap, unlocking a flood of memories that made her whole body quake.
**********************************************
Malandrae stood in the High Arcanist's laboratory, looking around furtively before grabbing a few potion bottles and siphoning off a bit from each. Each still looked full, but from what she'd taken from each she had managed to make three more full potions. Potions of invisibility. Potions that she would pass on to other Highborne that wanted to flee the city, but had no means to escape.
**********************************************
Malandrae laughed with the guard captain as he mocked the foolish commoners that had died outside the walls. She nodded and smiled at him as he described hunting down a few families that had tried to shelter near the walls. The Queen would purge the weak, and they would become a new, proud people he said. Malandrae could only agree with him, running a hand up his broad chest and then leaning forward to kiss him.
He never felt her steal the key to the prison cells he was in charge of guarding. The key she would later use to free several Highborne that were imprisoned and awaiting execution for defiance against the Queen.
***********************************************
The elf had tears in her eyes as she stood protectively before her two children. They were backed against a wall, and before them stood two felhunters, both of them growling and ready to devour the elves and their magic. Behind them lay the body of the elf's husband and father of her children; he'd died defending them, and his rent armor and bloody sword attested to the fact that many demons had fallen before they'd overwhelmed him.
The felhunters never heard Malandrae as she approached them from behind. They never saw her pick up the fallen elf's sword in shaking hands. By the time they realized she was there, she'd already mortally stabbed one and the other died under the sword seconds later.
She said nothing to the woman as she opened a portal, allowing them to escape the city. She didn't acknowledge her thanks, because it was the highborne's fault all of this had happened after all. After the portal closed, she left the sword with the dead elf. No one would know that he hadn't been the one to cut down the felhunters. Or that his family had escaped.
***************************************
The Sorcerer stood high atop one of the towers on the outer wall of the Queen's Court. His magic ranged far and wide, searching the ruins of Zin-azshari for survivors and malcontents that threatened the Queen's plans. No one would defy her and live, and he would ensure that traitors were rooted out.
He paused as he heard someone step onto the tower with him. He turned to see Malandrae there, her shirt unbuttoned to almost inappropriate depths. As he gazed into her inviting cleavage, she stepped towards him with a soft smile on her face.
He never expected her to shove him from the tower. He certainly never expected her to counterspell him on the way down, so that he collided with deadly results on the pavement far below, allowing several elves hiding in the rubble to escape when his gaze was no longer seeking them. At least his last sight had been a pleasant one.
****************************************
The priestess had been tortured for days by satyr. They would heal her at the end of each day, but leave her in agony until the sun rose again. They especially enjoyed tormenting a Priestess of Elune.
Her cell door opened quietly and Malandrae slipped inside. When the door closed behind her, the smile on her face turned to one of sorrow. She approached the Priestess, patting her hair and gently cooing at her, trying to soothe the agony that could have no cure now.
She gently tipped a cool cup of water to the Priestess's lips, and the other elf smiled as she drank the liquid down. She nodded slowly, knowing that Malandrae had just given her deadly poison to end her suffering.
"Goddess bless you child. She will not forget you."
Malandrae wished she would; her spirit was forever stained from the things she'd seen.
********************************************
Malandrae gasped as hundreds of additional scenes flashed through her mind, all of the same nature. All things she had not remembered until her final moment, until her magic could let go of her memories once and for all. Even as her agonizing wound made it difficult to breath, she smiled to herself.
I am not a coward. I simply failed. I am not a hero, but neither am I a villain. The Goddess did have a path for me, and I've been following it all this time, even if I didn't know. I am simply Malandrae, and I can go in peace now.
Her lips parted and a song slipped out. It was a dirge, a funeral song laced with magic. She sang it in mourning of the end of life, but also in celebration of a life well lived. She sang it, knowing that in that moment she was whole for the first time. That she was free of the guilt that hung around her perpetually.
The magic responded, even as her voice faded and her vision darkened. Her words, sung in the ancient language of the Highborne, created just an ember in her outstretched hand before she could go on no further. It drifted into the air, like a firefly on the breeze. The tiny spark blended into the other ash in the air, soon lost to sight.
The cultists ignored Malandrae, stepping around the fatally wounded elf, the spark traveling amongst them. It floated past many of them, ignored in their rush to slay the orcs that Malandrae had been defending. It drifted into the face of one of the cult's pyromancers, and the woman batted it aside with her hand in annoyance. It puffed against her skin, disappearing into nothing.
A heartbeat later an explosion that could only be described as catastrophic consumed most of the Twlight's Hammer cultists as the spark burned to life with the full power of a highborne sorceress. Flames shot fifty feet into the air and everyone was thrown to the ground as the magical force detonated, bathing dozens of attackers in broiling liquid death in a blink of an eye. They had no time to scream, no time to realize what had happened as they ceased to exist, disintegrated in the raging inferno.
Malandrae saw none of it, her eyes closing for the last time and her ears ringing with the roars of the dragonmaw as they surged forward to assault the now decimated Twilight's Hammer. The last thing she saw was the sky above her, embers drifting down from her magic before all went black.
********************************************
Her silver eyes opened, her vision swimming into focus. A face peered down above her, a gray-skinned and tusked face that had a look of concern on it. Malandrae blinked in confusion, not understanding what was going on. She tried to sit up, but felt too weak. Above her were the charred beams of what looked to have once been a dwarven home in the Highlands.
"Rest now elf," the voice rumbled above her. Malandrae realized it was a female orc as the other stepped back. Her body was covered in tight fitting leather armor with black scales across it, a matching skirt below it jingling as the orc moved. Her braided hair had a number of odd charms woven into it, and the elf realized she was one of the dragonmaw shaman that she'd heard about.
"You've been badly hurt. With the help of the spirits I was able to heal your wounds, but I cannot replace lost blood," The orc said softly.
Malandrae replied weakly, "W-why d-did you help me? I thought...your people...h-hate mine..."
The orc studied her carefully, her brown eyes locked with Malandre's silver ones. "The spirits told me that you have a purpose to serve yet. Also...you saved one of my children, and the children of many of my friends. That act alone would grant you salvation, even if some of the others wished to leave you where you were."
Malandrae frowned and shook her head, "I d-don't...what do you mean? Where am I? All I remember is leaving Professor Knox's house, and...I can't...please, what happened?"
The orc studied her again, sighing softly. "You were in a battle. And although I do not know the customs of your people, I think that you must have been inexperienced, because spellcasters do not stand in the center of a swirling fight to cast their spells elf. You are lucky that you were not wounded so badly that I would be unable to anchor your spirit to your flesh."
The Highborne blinked in shock, "A b-battle...w-what...why? W-where..."
The orc shaman raised a hand to stop the elf's words and leaned forward, touching her face lightly. When she drew her finger back, it had Malandrae's blood on it. Her nose was bleeding. "You cannot remember because you choose not to," the shaman said softly. "But you do not need to remember to be who you were meant to be, even the spirits know this to be the case.
The elf looked at her in hopeless confusion, shaking her head, "I d-don't understand..."
The shaman smiled and rose, stepping away from Malandrae towards the exit of the ruined home. "That is not necessary now. Just know that you fulfill your purpose with your every breath. You have my thanks elf. I must go and tend to those of my people who need it now."
With that she was gone, leaving a very weak and sore Malandrae in a greater state of confusion than she was. She looked down at herself, seeing her torn and bloodstained dress and shook her head. "I don't know what happened here....but...I think maybe I should stay away from battles. Some people just aren't cut out to be heroes."
With that she sang the words to a portal spell, surprised at how much effort even that small act took. It was time for a very very long nap.
The rolling green hills of the Highlands flowed beneath Malandrae as her silver eyes scanned the terrain below. Her magical horse ate up the distance, allowing her to cover a huge amount of terrain in a relatively short period of time. Even so, she'd been at it for hours now, and still had not located the missing party of dwarves she had agreed to help find. What was worse, the wasted time could have been spent conjuring food for the dwarves who had lost their homes and given them much needed supplies. It was something the Highborne had taken on herself to do, thinking that it fit well with her acceptance into the Order of the Rose.
Frustrated, Malandrae shook her head and was about to turn the horse around and head back when something caught her eye in the distance. Although it was just a spec from so far away, she could see something flying in the air rapidly, and small flashes of light in the sky. Curious, she turned her horse slightly, staying low to avoid detection by any enemies that still lurked in the Highlands.
As she drew nearer, Malandrae could clearly make out the form of a black drake hovering in the air over a specific location. The flashes of light she'd seen were spells hurtling up from the ground and back down from the rider on the dragon's back. Even as she made these observations, a deadly spell flashed from the ground and struck the creature, sending it into a death spiral. Malandrae moved closer still, towards where the dragon had been hovering and she gasped in surprise at what she saw.
Down below in the grassy fields were hundreds of struggling figures. A group of what were clearly Twilight's Hammer cultists had surrounded a small party of fighters and were quickly overwhelming them. Even as she watched, Malandrae saw several figures knocked down and dragged off for quick sacrifice at the rear of the battle lines. The elf moved closer still, and she gasped again when she realized who the Twilights were fighting; gray skinnned orcs with dark black armor and weapons, clearly dragonmaw even from her distance.
That was when she saw the children.
The dragonmaw were desperately holding the line so that a small group of their women and children could escape from the Twilight ambush. As the elf watched, the women guarding the children began to draw weapons, realizing that they would have to fight to the death to protect the young ones. There were simply too many Twilights for the dragonmaw to stop, and Malandrae hesitated only for a moment.
She was not about to let children fall into the hands of the Twilight's Hammer. It made little difference who or what they were.
Without second thought Malandrae's horse plummeted from the sky, her heart pounding in her chest and terror creeping up her spine. She'd never been in a battle before, but she had no choice but to help. There simply was no other acceptable solution as far as she was concerned. She alighted on the field between the attacking cultists and the Dragonmaw rearguard. She quickly muttered a spell that would allow others to understand her.
"I'm with the Order of the Rose!" Malandrae shouted. She had no idea if the orcs had any clue as to who the Roses were, but she was hopeful that what Chelody had said about them being a relief organization would carry some weight. Whether they understood her or recognized her Order Malandrae did not know, but she took it as a positive sign that no swords were jammed into her back as she turned to face the cultists.
She had only seconds to think before they rushed her, seeing just another target to cut down. Song burst from her lips, magic laced in each word as she began to conjure the spells she's recently been practicing. Spells she had 'borrowed' from one of Professor Knox's spellbooks that the human had left out one day. Instantly a huge wall of fire sprang up, forcing the cultists back from the raging heat. Balls of flaming magic slammed into the ground with loud detonations, driving the attackers away from the flames and soundwave of energy.
Malandrae smiled and nodded as the attacking force faltered under the barrage. She was purposely trying not to hit any of them with spells, hoping to avoid any more causalities but knowing that what she was doing was unwise in the middle of a battle. A few of the cultists did get burned as the tried to step through her flames, but it was not her direct intention to burn all of them alive; she simply wanted to keep them away from the young who were trapped in the middle of the battle.
It was working well, or seemed to be. The Dragonmaw were rallying behind her, shuffling the children further from the battle lines as the Twilight forces fell back in spots to avoid the flames. At least, it was going well until the Twilights fought back.
It happened so fast that Malandrae barely had time to register the event. From the rear of the cultist's lines a dark shaft was fired, probably from a hunting bow. It flew through the air, arcing up and then falling, moving with incredible speed and force. The Highborne saw it only for a second before it was buried deep in her chest, right around where she believed her heart to be.
The pain was intense, both from the impact as well as the tearing that the wicked arrowhead did as it buried itself within her. Malandrae stumbled back, her magic dying down as her whole world became the shaft of agony in her chest. She stared at it dully, as if unable to register the reality of it. She noted that it was made of a dark oak, the feathers on it from some brightly plumed creature. Here and there drops of her blood glistened on the shaft, starkly contrasting with the beauty of the weapon's finish.
How strange. Such a little thing, such a beautifully made thing, to create such pain. To end my life.
Reality struck her then; the shaft had pierced her chest. Already she found it difficult to draw breath and she knew that it was a fatal wound. Her first battle, her ONLY battle, and she would die from an arrow.
Flo would be so mad. If she knew. She'll never know though. I'll just be gone.
Her eyes closed, blocking out the sight of the deadly shaft. In her mind, her life flashed before her eyes.
*************************************
A little girl stood alone on the balcony of her family's spire. Wearing an ornate dress, she quietly applied a brush to canvas, painting the image of the sun rising in the distance over Zin-azshari. She smiled as she created her art, her cyan hair bouncing as she nodded at the masterpiece unfolding. She always liked to paint in the mornings, when her family had long since gone to bed for the day and wouldn't chide her to stop wasting her time on frivolous pursuits.
**************************************
A slightly older elf laughed as she created a beautiful display of arcane magic in the air, lighting up the night with flashing patterns of light that came from her imagination. Others clapped and applauded at the display; her childhood friends gathered around to see the tricks she'd learned from her older sister's spellbooks. Hours later her sister would find out and tell her parents, and she'd be in serious trouble, but for that moment she was happy, the act of creation a gift.
****************************************
Now a young adult, Malandrae breathed deeply as she stepped into the Temple of Elune in Zin-azshari. As she looked on the marble walls and across the space to the glowing moonwell in the center, her heart sang within her. The Goddess called to her, and she answered it with all her being. For the first time she felt truly at peace, and it was a feeling she would always carry with her whenever she communed with her Goddess.
*****************************************
A smiling Malandrae sang softly, soothing away the fears and pain of her dear friend as she gently brushed the other elf's hair from her sweating face. The other elf looked at her and seemed to relaxed, clutching her hand tightly even as another contraction rocked her body, taking comfort from Malandrae's presence. Although all of their other friends had laughed at the elf when she decided to raise her child on her own, Malandrae had not abandoned their friendship, and stood beside her through that difficult night. It was a choice the highborne would never regret, not after seeing the joy of a new mother holding her child for the first time.
******************************************
An older Malandrae danced, her body a thing of art as she performed before a crowd of Highborne. All eyes were glued on her as she twirled and went through the steps of one of the most elaborate of dances. Her agile feet never missed a beat, her body never missed the perfect alignment of form as she finished. Her demonstration was met with thunderous applause, and she smiled as she bowed before the others, enjoying the fact that they had appreciated what she'd been able to do. She frowned as she saw two of her older brothers rolling their eyes and elbowing each other; they never did understand why she bothered to learn such useless things.
*******************************************
Malandrae stood on the wall of the Queen's Court, looking out over the city as it burned. She heard the screams of the innocent citizens of Zin-azshari as demons hunted them down in their own homes and killed or tortured them. She shook, tears pouring down her face as her heart broke for what her people had become, what they had done. She cast a scrying spell, forcing herself to watch the carnage, never wanting to forget a single moment of it, so she would forever know what she had helped cause.
********************************************
Malandrae gasped, coming back to the real world. Blood streamed from her nose and her eyes stared into the distance now. At some point during the flashbacks she had fallen to her knees, the weakness from her wound overwhelming her. It meant nothing now, because deep in her mind she felt something snap, unlocking a flood of memories that made her whole body quake.
**********************************************
Malandrae stood in the High Arcanist's laboratory, looking around furtively before grabbing a few potion bottles and siphoning off a bit from each. Each still looked full, but from what she'd taken from each she had managed to make three more full potions. Potions of invisibility. Potions that she would pass on to other Highborne that wanted to flee the city, but had no means to escape.
**********************************************
Malandrae laughed with the guard captain as he mocked the foolish commoners that had died outside the walls. She nodded and smiled at him as he described hunting down a few families that had tried to shelter near the walls. The Queen would purge the weak, and they would become a new, proud people he said. Malandrae could only agree with him, running a hand up his broad chest and then leaning forward to kiss him.
He never felt her steal the key to the prison cells he was in charge of guarding. The key she would later use to free several Highborne that were imprisoned and awaiting execution for defiance against the Queen.
***********************************************
The elf had tears in her eyes as she stood protectively before her two children. They were backed against a wall, and before them stood two felhunters, both of them growling and ready to devour the elves and their magic. Behind them lay the body of the elf's husband and father of her children; he'd died defending them, and his rent armor and bloody sword attested to the fact that many demons had fallen before they'd overwhelmed him.
The felhunters never heard Malandrae as she approached them from behind. They never saw her pick up the fallen elf's sword in shaking hands. By the time they realized she was there, she'd already mortally stabbed one and the other died under the sword seconds later.
She said nothing to the woman as she opened a portal, allowing them to escape the city. She didn't acknowledge her thanks, because it was the highborne's fault all of this had happened after all. After the portal closed, she left the sword with the dead elf. No one would know that he hadn't been the one to cut down the felhunters. Or that his family had escaped.
***************************************
The Sorcerer stood high atop one of the towers on the outer wall of the Queen's Court. His magic ranged far and wide, searching the ruins of Zin-azshari for survivors and malcontents that threatened the Queen's plans. No one would defy her and live, and he would ensure that traitors were rooted out.
He paused as he heard someone step onto the tower with him. He turned to see Malandrae there, her shirt unbuttoned to almost inappropriate depths. As he gazed into her inviting cleavage, she stepped towards him with a soft smile on her face.
He never expected her to shove him from the tower. He certainly never expected her to counterspell him on the way down, so that he collided with deadly results on the pavement far below, allowing several elves hiding in the rubble to escape when his gaze was no longer seeking them. At least his last sight had been a pleasant one.
****************************************
The priestess had been tortured for days by satyr. They would heal her at the end of each day, but leave her in agony until the sun rose again. They especially enjoyed tormenting a Priestess of Elune.
Her cell door opened quietly and Malandrae slipped inside. When the door closed behind her, the smile on her face turned to one of sorrow. She approached the Priestess, patting her hair and gently cooing at her, trying to soothe the agony that could have no cure now.
She gently tipped a cool cup of water to the Priestess's lips, and the other elf smiled as she drank the liquid down. She nodded slowly, knowing that Malandrae had just given her deadly poison to end her suffering.
"Goddess bless you child. She will not forget you."
Malandrae wished she would; her spirit was forever stained from the things she'd seen.
********************************************
Malandrae gasped as hundreds of additional scenes flashed through her mind, all of the same nature. All things she had not remembered until her final moment, until her magic could let go of her memories once and for all. Even as her agonizing wound made it difficult to breath, she smiled to herself.
I am not a coward. I simply failed. I am not a hero, but neither am I a villain. The Goddess did have a path for me, and I've been following it all this time, even if I didn't know. I am simply Malandrae, and I can go in peace now.
Her lips parted and a song slipped out. It was a dirge, a funeral song laced with magic. She sang it in mourning of the end of life, but also in celebration of a life well lived. She sang it, knowing that in that moment she was whole for the first time. That she was free of the guilt that hung around her perpetually.
The magic responded, even as her voice faded and her vision darkened. Her words, sung in the ancient language of the Highborne, created just an ember in her outstretched hand before she could go on no further. It drifted into the air, like a firefly on the breeze. The tiny spark blended into the other ash in the air, soon lost to sight.
The cultists ignored Malandrae, stepping around the fatally wounded elf, the spark traveling amongst them. It floated past many of them, ignored in their rush to slay the orcs that Malandrae had been defending. It drifted into the face of one of the cult's pyromancers, and the woman batted it aside with her hand in annoyance. It puffed against her skin, disappearing into nothing.
A heartbeat later an explosion that could only be described as catastrophic consumed most of the Twlight's Hammer cultists as the spark burned to life with the full power of a highborne sorceress. Flames shot fifty feet into the air and everyone was thrown to the ground as the magical force detonated, bathing dozens of attackers in broiling liquid death in a blink of an eye. They had no time to scream, no time to realize what had happened as they ceased to exist, disintegrated in the raging inferno.
Malandrae saw none of it, her eyes closing for the last time and her ears ringing with the roars of the dragonmaw as they surged forward to assault the now decimated Twilight's Hammer. The last thing she saw was the sky above her, embers drifting down from her magic before all went black.
********************************************
Her silver eyes opened, her vision swimming into focus. A face peered down above her, a gray-skinned and tusked face that had a look of concern on it. Malandrae blinked in confusion, not understanding what was going on. She tried to sit up, but felt too weak. Above her were the charred beams of what looked to have once been a dwarven home in the Highlands.
"Rest now elf," the voice rumbled above her. Malandrae realized it was a female orc as the other stepped back. Her body was covered in tight fitting leather armor with black scales across it, a matching skirt below it jingling as the orc moved. Her braided hair had a number of odd charms woven into it, and the elf realized she was one of the dragonmaw shaman that she'd heard about.
"You've been badly hurt. With the help of the spirits I was able to heal your wounds, but I cannot replace lost blood," The orc said softly.
Malandrae replied weakly, "W-why d-did you help me? I thought...your people...h-hate mine..."
The orc studied her carefully, her brown eyes locked with Malandre's silver ones. "The spirits told me that you have a purpose to serve yet. Also...you saved one of my children, and the children of many of my friends. That act alone would grant you salvation, even if some of the others wished to leave you where you were."
Malandrae frowned and shook her head, "I d-don't...what do you mean? Where am I? All I remember is leaving Professor Knox's house, and...I can't...please, what happened?"
The orc studied her again, sighing softly. "You were in a battle. And although I do not know the customs of your people, I think that you must have been inexperienced, because spellcasters do not stand in the center of a swirling fight to cast their spells elf. You are lucky that you were not wounded so badly that I would be unable to anchor your spirit to your flesh."
The Highborne blinked in shock, "A b-battle...w-what...why? W-where..."
The orc shaman raised a hand to stop the elf's words and leaned forward, touching her face lightly. When she drew her finger back, it had Malandrae's blood on it. Her nose was bleeding. "You cannot remember because you choose not to," the shaman said softly. "But you do not need to remember to be who you were meant to be, even the spirits know this to be the case.
The elf looked at her in hopeless confusion, shaking her head, "I d-don't understand..."
The shaman smiled and rose, stepping away from Malandrae towards the exit of the ruined home. "That is not necessary now. Just know that you fulfill your purpose with your every breath. You have my thanks elf. I must go and tend to those of my people who need it now."
With that she was gone, leaving a very weak and sore Malandrae in a greater state of confusion than she was. She looked down at herself, seeing her torn and bloodstained dress and shook her head. "I don't know what happened here....but...I think maybe I should stay away from battles. Some people just aren't cut out to be heroes."
With that she sang the words to a portal spell, surprised at how much effort even that small act took. It was time for a very very long nap.
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