Mari Makeover

Mariskka squirmed under the heavy fabric, her view completely obscured for a moment as she shimmied in place, letting the material fall over her frame and ride down to her hips. The cloth had metal rings sewn into it, making the entire garment much heavier than a normal dress but not so heavy that it would hamper her movements. Even so, putting the thing on was quite the task, and she struggled for a few moments more before the dress fell into place around her hooves.

She sighed, looking down at herself and biting her lip, unsure of the entire thing. The past few months had brought many changes to her life, and this outfit was the least of them. After the fall of the Alliance vanguard at the Dark Portal, it had been one desperate battle after another, with the native Draenei of this Draenor aiding the Alliance as they escaped the Iron Horde and eventually began to recoup their losses and set up fortifications.

To Mariskka's surprise, she had not only been hailed as a champion by many of the Alliance soldiers she had fought beside, but her wisdom and knowledge of the original Draenor had been put to work in helping to guide Alliance forces through friendly territory and to make contact with more of the native peoples of Draenor. To her everlasting surprise, Mariskka had been asked to help set up a small fortification where Alliance soldiers could seek refuge and rebuild their forces. She had gone from being a wandering nomad content with communing with the elements to having soldiers saluting her and calling her 'commander' in a matter of months, and the changes had shocked her to her core.

She sighed again before stepping out from behind the privacy screen in her quarters, her hooves clicking lightly on the stone floor. In her room beyond, another Draenei waited for her, a thread and needle in hand along with a tape measure. The other Draenei clicked her tongue, quickly walking over to Mariskka and circling her, studying her critically.

The armor was a mixture of white and light blue colors, resembling the skies of Azeroth or perhaps the foam of a running, burbling river somewhere on that world. Mariskka had picked the fabric out, having fallen in love with it the minute she set eyes on it. It reminded her of the element of water, which she was deeply connected with, and if she had to wear something like this armor then it was going to be personally meaningful to her.

"Oh yes, this will do nicely, Mariskka," the tailor said in her native tongue, nodding in appreciation of her handiwork. "You look absolutely stunning."

Mariskka looked down at herself, enjoying the feel of the armor. It had been made by the Draenei living here, and reminded her of where she had come from and who she had been. Once, many years ago, she could have been found wearing a lighter dress or cloth armor that looked very similar to what she now wore. Back when she was an artificer and lived a peaceful life on a Draenor that was not so dissimilar from this one.

She looked up, glancing at herself in a full length mirror that the tailor had set up, studying the Draenei looking back at her in the reflection. The woman there did indeed look beautiful; she looked like she belonged here on this world, amongst her people. It was surreal to see such a sight after the decades of wandering and scrounging for armor that Mariskka had done; the only similarities between how she had been dressed just yesterday and today were the small metallic and stone fetishes she still wove in her hair. She nodded at herself, hearing the satisfying sounds of the small object clacking against each other as she moved.

"Thank you...it is very beautiful. I've not worn something like this in so very long," Mariskka finally replied, also in her native tongue.

"A commander must look the part," the tailor said with another smile. "Now your soldiers will know who their leader is."

Mariskka remained silent, studying herself in the mirror again. She shifted in position, admiring the way the artfully crafted armor fell into place and moved with her, light as a feather. She did indeed look like something more than she felt she was, and that was the point. When she had first come through the portal, she had fought beside the soldiers and suffered with them. Now she was expected to lead them, and they did not understand her or her ways. The people who inhabited Draenor did not understand the ragged Draenei that had appeared before them wielding the shamanistic powers that the orcs had once used. Likewise, the soldiers who were assigned to the fortification she was to command did not understand the Draenei who did not look like a paragon of the Light that so many of the others resembled.

It had been hard to maintain morale, to have the others listen to her when the wind whispered to her of dangers that approached them. The soldiers had been restless, had been unruly at times. It broke her heart, for she wanted to serve them, to help them survive the danger of the Iron Horde that she knew threatened not only their lives, but the very existence of their race. She had seen what the orcs could do, after all. Seen it on her own world so long ago.

There had been only one group that had taken to their new commander well; the Rangari. These rangers of the Draenei had understood her warnings, had appreciated her skills with shamanistic magic, with the natural world. They had encouraged her, had followed her commands, and had taught her something important; just as they had learned to blend into the environment to serve as scouts, so must Mariskka blend into the general population of the Alliance so that she could best serve them. Her appearance, her presence, was as important as her words and skills. They had convinced her to bring in one of the local tailors to help her look the part, to help her help the people that were relying on her.

And so here she was; wearing a set of mail armor that so resembled the dresses she wore long ago. An errant gust of wind whipped through the room, stirring the skirts of the armored dress playfully. It was the wind, caressing her form and giving its silent approval, the joy of the elements apparent in its game. Mariskka smiled, nodding at the reflection before turning to look at the tailor standing beside her, "Thank you so much. This is what was needed. I see this now. I will do my best to fill the role that this armor requires."

The tailor laid a hand on Mariskka's shoulder, squeezing it gently, "I am sure you will do fine. I have heard of your deeds and what you've done to help the people here. Come to me if you need more work done; I will work with our artificers to help craft more equipment for you and yours. It is you we should be thanking."

As the tailor finished speaking, a human burst into the room, his expression one of urgency. He took three steps into the room, his gait faltering and his eyes going wide as he took in his formerly ragged looking commander in her new dress, "Commander...I....Light, you look gorgeous!"

Mariskka felt her cheeks flush a deep blue in embarrassment. It seemed when one problem was solved, others would pop up. Such was life she supposed. The wind whipped through her hair, setting her silver-white locks to blowing around her face for a moment, its joke making her smile before she shook her head, the fetishes in her hair clacking again. She replied to the soldier in Common, somehow keeping the mirth from her voice, "Thank you! Are needing something?"

The soldier came to attention and saluted her. It was the first time one of the humans had truly and sincerely meant the gesture, and it made Mariskka happy. "Yes, Commander! The scouts have just returned and have urgent news from Talador. Your presence is requested in the command center."

"Ah, is always being trouble here, yes," Mariskka replied, her Common somewhat better than it had been in many years thanks to her practicing. "Let us be going then. Will be seeing what is so important!"

With that the soldier saluted her again and marched out of the room. Mariskka turned to give the tailor one more nod of thanks, only to see the woman beaming proudly at her and nodding at her in encouragement.

With a smile on her face, Mariskka set out to do what she had come here to do; help the Alliance and help the people of Draenor. Little did she know that she had been helping herself all along.