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.   

Full Circle

*The Dark Portal. The push against the Iron Horde.*

For years, decades even she had wandered. She had roamed distant lands, separated from her people, from their customs, from her own haunted thoughts of the past. She had lived as a nomad might, traveling where the whispering winds lead her, scavenging what supplies or equipment she needed along the way. Always an exile even amongst a people composed of exiles, Mariskka had known only solitude and the precious touch of the elements except on the rare occasion her path crossed with that of another soul.

Perhaps that solitude was what she had needed to grow beyond what she had once been. The decades younger Draenei would not have recognized herself, the arcane researcher and crystal artificer would have taken one look at the ragged, fetish-wearing shaman and wondered if she were perhaps a lost Rangari scout. She had walked many paths in the intervening years, seen many things both horrible and fantastic, and learned of the elements and the natural world.

It was because of this growth, because of what she had become in the intervening years since her losses on Draenor and her fading connection to the Light, that Mariskka found herself drawn to the conflict at the Dark Portal. Always one for peace, even she could not ignore the portents and dire warnings that the elements whispered to her. Every fortune she told bespoke of disaster, every echo of the elements cried out in pain from the damage the portal did to the very land around it, and possibly worst of all; every time she closed her eyes the spirits writhed in torment in her dreams and in the waking world around her. Her memories bubbled to the surface, screaming at her of the consequences of inaction, of letting this Iron Horde invade these new lands her people had made a home and in the quietest parts of her mind telling her that she could change what befell her people the first time if she was there to make a difference.

And so she stood on the scorched red plains as the combined might of the Alliance and the Horde pushed the invaders back to their beachhead. She stood amongst their ranks as the greatest heroes of the realms battered aside the Iron Horde spearhead and wrested control of the Dark Portal on Azeroth's side. And when they plunged through the portal on what would certainly be a suicide mission, Mariskka was there, her hooves clattering loudly on the ancient stones, the blue glow of her eyes affixed ahead of her as she stepped forward, knowing she left nothing and no one behind to mourn her loss.

The battle beyond was chaos, with thousands upon thousands of orcs hurtling towards the portal, attempting to force the attacking heroes of Azeroth aside. Mariskka found herself caught in the swirl of battle, knowing that she and the others had to buy enough time for the portal to be shut down. She stood shoulder to shoulder with soldiers of the Alliance, her mismatched armor setting her apart and proclaiming her as something slightly different. To the orcs it mattered little; all they saw were targets to be slaughtered, and the situation was all so very familiar to Mariskka as memories flowed back into her mind.

In a half-daze she moved, her mace coming down on a foe here, her shield moving to block an attack there, while all the while her mind raced, recalling the orcish cleansing of her village, her home. A thousand faces flashed through her mind, her husband and children staring lifelessly up at her. Her neighbors, friends, relatives, everything that made up her life destroyed by the unbelievable aggression and hatred of a people the Draenei had lived alongside for so long.

A spear thrust forward through the swirling melee and Mariskka narrowly avoided being impaled as she brought her shield into alignment at the last possible moment. The force of the blow drove her backwards, her hooves slipping on the now blood-slicked stones before the portal as she lost her balance. Around her other Alliance soldiers were cut down, the orcs pushing forward and slowly destroying the vanguard. From her place on the ground, she looked up in horror as a huge, brutish orc loomed large over her.

He stared down at her, his eyes filled with bloodlust and primitive markings covering his mostly naked flesh. He grinned down at her, his spear coming up over his head as his gaze locked with hers.

In that moment, Mariskka's life came full circle. All of the emotions, all of the terror she had experienced back on the original Draenor burned away in the flames of her anger. She remembered Argus, remembered the first family she'd lost, remembered the eons of fleeing, fighting, and dying that her people had done just to escape into another massacre, another battle. In that moment, something within her surged to life, and the fiery will that had forced her to live even after the fall of Shattrath burned through her veins.

Smoldering fury gazed back up at the orc, giving him pause. His weapon halted, raised above his head and glinting in the smoke filled light of Draenor's sun. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously, the elements of Draenor hearing the call of a shaman's rage. Although the world was alien to much of the Alliance, to Mariskka it was just one of the many homes that she had found and lost, and she could feel the seething molten core of the world, feel the wind whipping through her hair as the storm came to her, feel the moisture off the sea lingering as a threat in the clouds above, and feel the strength of the stones beneath her.

The orc saw the shift in her gaze, saw her hands clench tight against the haft of her mace, and he brought his spear higher, ready to destroy the threat. Lightning arced down from seemingly nowhere, pouring through his raised spear and burning him as it flowed through the weapon and out. It struck Mariskka, flowing across the metal of her armor, never touching her flesh as it found its release in the stones beneath her, the ear-splitting reverberation of its thunderclap deafening those nearby and throwing the charred orc into his companions on the stone stairs below.

Mariskka rose from the ground, smoldering steam rising from the stones around her, and a space cleared for her. Alliance soldiers surged forward on her flanks, but her gaze remained affixed to the orcs on the steps below her as they looked up at her in awe and fear.

No longer was she the wanderer, the traveler. No longer was she the simple fortune teller that she'd been for so many years. In her gaze they saw her as she truly was and had always been. They saw the Draenei that had loved and lost so many times that it had become an endless cycle of life to her. They saw the woman who had nearly given her life so that the innocent could flee from Shattrath, and in her words, they heard their doom spoken.

"Never again, for as long as I shall live," Mariskka murmured under her breath in Draenei.

Her hands came up, and lightning flared, another wicked thunderclap booming out all around her. The electricity slashed into the orcs below her, hopping from one to another and making them jump and shudder as it passed through them. Where they fell, more stood to take their place, and more lightning came to greet them.

She would hold her ground there until the very end, until the portal itself was destroyed from the Draenor side, and her allies grabbed her and hauled her back, forced to carry her as she refused to give up her ground. And as she was lifted by a large worgen and dragged away from the conflict, she saw the ground passing beneath her, the memory of the flowing water of the swamps near the Zangar Sea passing beneath her as she was carried away with a mortal wound in another time and place staying with her, leaving her in a daze where past and present conspired to become one and the same.

She had finally come back to the place which had broken her, and this time had shown that she was stronger than the earth itself. Everything would be different now, and a new Cycle would begin here on this strange version of Draenor.   

A New Cycle

The Draenei shaman eased herself into a chair beside the small writing desk that was included with the room she'd rented for the evening, carefully tucking her tail out of the way so as not to whack it against anything (a lesson she had learned from numerous encounters with human furniture in the past!). With a smile, she pulled out an old worn pouch that clattered as she placed it gently on the desk. Beside it she set down a worn, battered old journal that was bound with a bit of twine. Carefully she undid the tie, opening the journal and flipping past pages that were covered with neat rows of script written in the Draeneic language. Finding a fresh page, Mariskka grabbed a quill and ink from the desk and began to jot some notes down.

Tonight was a very interesting night! I encountered two humans in one of the many inns within Dalaran. When I looked more closely, I noted that one of the two had a mechanical construct that was familiar to me. To my surprise, it was the very same one that had been described to me long ago by a mutual friend, Olow Domin. 

I stopped to speak to the woman, and it was as if the elements themselves wished for this to occur, for she was indeed the same woman that Olow had mentioned. She had known him as well, and in all the world it seemed we two had this in common. I have traveled many places, and across many worlds, but the chances of meeting someone whom I share such a connection with is incredibly low given all that my people have been through.

I performed a reading both for this woman, Ilhedith Knox as well as her guide, Kaiden. I think they enjoyed the readings, and the elements gave them good fortunes if I am any judge. Those two will do something important together, BE something important if my guess is correct. Neither of them have yet to fulfill their true destiny, and when they do it will be a great boon to all I am sure.

Ilhedith was very nice to me, and she even said she would speak to me again soon. It is strange to think that I could befriend one of the humans, for their lives are like a passing dream to the many years I have seen, and yet even if her life is like the quick burning of a candle it will burn like the brightest flame I believe. I have learned from my travels not to reject such an offer, for every moment is to be treasured and can enrich your life, your experiences. Who knows, perhaps this is the beginning of something new then, a new Cycle. As with all new beginnings, I will embrace this and see where the road leads me. I cannot fear the Cycle's end or I may potentially miss the most important moments of my life. 

With a sigh and a smile, Mariskka set the quill down and closed the journal. She reached out and took up the worn pouch, turning it over and dumping its contents onto the desk. A number of clear glass cubes that contained sealed water within them tumbled to the desk's surface, each inscribed on the sides with runes in the Draenei tongue. Gently Mariskka picked three of the cubes up and held them in her palm, her eyes closing as a warm blue glow leaked out from between her fingers. She tossed the cubes down, watching them tumble across the desk and finally come to a stop, three runes glowing on their surface showing her own fortune.

Destiny. Disaster. Family.

One of the shaman's eyebrows perked up as she read the runes, surprise crossing her features briefly. She rarely read her own fortune, for it was far easier to interpret the threads of the future when one's own interests and desires didn't interfere with the process. And yet...

"Is destiny to be preventing disaster, protecting family," Mariskka said aloud in Common. "Am not having family, so...vhat is meaning? Is destiny to find family and be protecting from disaster? Is disaster if am having family and is being destiny? Bah! This is vhy am not reading for self, yes!"

With a laugh she shook her head and looked away from the runes for a moment before reaching down to scoop them up. When she did, she paused in stark astonishment, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the runes before her.

Every single cube now showed the symbol for family on every face, even though it only should appear once on one of the nine cubes she had in the pouch. With wide eyes, Mariskka leaned forward and picked up one of the cubes, staring hard at it. The water within it glowed brightly for a moment, and all of the symbols faded from the surfaces except the one that had first shown, Family. 

With a shrug, she reached down and gathered up the other cubes, shoving them back into the worn pouch and not trying to think very hard about it any further. Fortune telling was a difficult business at best, and taking it too seriously would only give one a headache!

As she set the pouch aside and went to go get some sleep, she never noticed that she had accidentally shoved a crystal she used to magically communicate with others into the pouch as well. She never saw the warm glow from the magical fortune telling cubes as those in contact with the crystal pulsed again with the same rune for Family, as if to point towards the importance of those she would speak with through the device.

Mari and the Mogu

The wizened old Pandaren brought the quill across the page in one final stroke, ending the movement with a flourish as he finished the scroll he was working on. With a satisfied sigh, he set the quill down and removed the weights from the corners of the scroll, picking it up before it began to roll and could smear the ink.

As he turned, he saw a dozen eyes watching him eagerly, and he smiled and rose from his chair, holding the scroll out before him. Pandaren children as well as a few older Pandaren watched him with smiles on their faces, several looking at him expectantly.

"Have you come to hear the first reading then?" the old Pandaren lorewalker asked with a laugh. "Very well then! Sit, please, all of you, and I shall tell you the tale of Mari and the Mogu."

As his audience settled down, the lorewalker brought the scroll up before him, his voice steady as he read from it.

Long ago, our lands were hidden away by the mists, the world itself growing to become but a dim memory as we focused on our own people, our own way of life. Then, after centuries, the mists finally parted, and the outsiders came amongst us. 

The outsiders were of many shapes and sizes, many walks of life. Some were fierce warriors, come to our lands to do battle with one another. Others were healers, teachers, and scholars, come to learn of our lands and culture. Regardless of who or what they were, we opened our doors and our homes to them. We taught them of ourselves, and shared with them our tales of wonder. 

They would pass through our village, always on their way to another place or this or that battle. Always in a hurry, and never tarrying long. It was because of this, and some say because of the arrival of the outsiders, that an ancient evil awoke near this very village. Even as strangers walked amongst us, so too did the Mogu stir, sending their emissaries across all of Pandaria.

Many of the listeners began to boo or hiss at this, and the lorewalker merely laughed and shook his head, "Please! Let me finish! The story has only begun my friends!" The crowd settled and he held the scroll up once more, beginning to read aloud again.

The first we heard of the Mogu was when the terrible warriors surrounded our dwelling. Made of terracotta, they were things of legend. Earth and clay given life by stolen spirits and forced to obey the Mogu beyond death itself. They terrified us, their silent, grim faces promising doom to any who dared to disobey. The Mogu who lead them was a fierce warlord, and had his own mystical adviser with him as he stood on a rise overlooking our humble village, loudly proclaiming his lordship over us. He would make us serve, and thus we were his vassals.

Long did we tarry for him, gathering gold and food, knowing all the while that his silent warriors waited for us in the forests just beyond our homes if we dared to disobey. He grew rich and fat while we grew thin and hungry. The outsiders still came to our village now and then, but now we hid away from them, our doors barred until they left; for what would the Mogu do to them if he found them? They would be slain, and it would have been our hospitality that killed them.

This all changed on the night when Mari came to us. Months had passed, and many had begun to despair at our fate. It was late in the day when she arrived, and as was our habit we scrambled to bar our doors and shutter our windows for fear that she would stay.

She was an oddity, even amongst the outsiders, with hooves instead of feet and horns on her head. We would have thought her a demon, if not for her merry greetings as she knocked on each door, looking for someone, anyone to come and talk to her. We dared not, for her fate would be terrible if she stayed.

She was not discouraged, this sprite from the world beyond. Instead of leaving, she decided that we were simply all not home at the same time, and sat in the center of our village. She built a little cooking fire, and sang a song to herself in a language none of us knew. We dared not leave our homes, yet dread grew in our hearts as we heard her merry song, knowing that she was in grave danger.

By the time we gathered the courage to act, it was too late. The ground thundered with the sound of terracotta warriors as they marched into the village, more than a dozen of them surrounded the creature, weapons raised. We peered through cracks in our barricades, watching in horror at what our fear had wrought.

"Surrender to us, and become a slave!" the warriors shouted!

"Are being made of earth!" the hapless creature replied with a smile.

"You will die a thousand deaths this night!" the warriors roared, all charging her at once.

Our eyes closed, our hearts heavy as they converged on her. And then, they simply fell apart, their terracotta bodies cracking as they dissolved, leaving nothing more than a pile of earth where they had stood. In the air their spirits danced, free at last from their master's grasp, and with a great sigh and a pulsing light they were gone.

Our hearts grew light, this outsider had destroyed the warriors somehow! Our windows opened and our doors were unbarred, our village pouring out with great cheering amongst us. And the creature, Mariskka she called herself, simply smiled and laughed and celebrated with us, even though she did not know our cause for joy. She said she was a Draenei, a being from far away and long ago, and we cared not about such details for the moment because she had saved us.

A feast was declared, and all the village began to prepare, Mari's little cooking fire becoming a larger community effort. Ale barrels were tapped, and our finest foods that we had hidden from our Mogu tormentor were taken out and soon the entire village smelled of delicious food and echoed with joyous laughter.

Those listening to the story cheered at this, and the lorewalker chuckled lightly to himself before he continued reading.

But our joy was not to last, for the Mogu's mystic soon was spotted at the edge of the village, making his way towards our feasting. Lightning flashed in his hands and in the air around him, and all in the village drew back, terrified once more. He approached our honored guest, pointing at her and yelling loudly, "You will pay for defying the master!"

Our brave, sweet champion waggled her finger at him, scolding him as she spoke, "Lightning is being dangerous! Being more careful please! Vill be hitting people vith that!"

The mystic's eyes widened, rage claiming him as was the habit of the Mogu. He waved his hands in the air, chanting and shouting, lightning building all around him. Mari, whom some now call Mari the Brave, stood calmly near the fire, her wrist moving as she dropped a small stone on the ground.

Lightning forked from the hands of the mystic, and we all cried out in despair for our poor champion. And yet, when we dared open our eyes, she stood unharmed, the little stone she had dropped having caught the lightning. She bent down, picking it up as if the check on the lightning before tucking it away and shaking her head. She reached into her pouch again, digging for another stone and accidentally dropping one with an 'Oops!'.

The mystic stormed towards her, his eyes blazing with fury as he snatched up the little stone she had dropped. She shook her head and said, "Do not be touching! Vas not meaning to drop that!"

The mystic laughed, greed in his voice as he sneered at her, "This is mine now. Your power is mine and you will suffer at my hands!"

He held the stone out before him, and it glowed, air gushing through it as it sparkled with lightning. He opened his mouth to speak again, and the little stone exploded, blackening his cloths and burning his flesh. He opened his eyes, soot staining him and little fires dancing on his robes before tumbling backwards. When he landed, his breath left him in a puff of smoke.

"Am being sorry!" Mari the Brave replied. "Vas being, how you say, not right one!"

Again the village cheered, our people collecting the mystic and carrying him out into the forest where we left him to sleep off the effects of the explosion. More food was brought forth, and more beer until it was set to be a feast the likes of which we had never seen.

It was then that the Mogu himself came, his thunderous tread announcing his presence ahead of his arrival. We cowered before him as he towered over us, lightning flashing in his eyes, "I am the emissary of the Thunder King. I am one of His chosen ones, and you are slaves to His will. How dare you defy me? How dare you think to hide from Him your riches?"

Fear filled the air, our people once again knowing the yoke of slavery. Our celebration died in that moment, and all cowered away from the Mogu except our visitor. She merely stood by her fire, watching the delicious food cook and shaking her head, "Am not being slave silly, am being Mariskka! Vas telling others this, but are not listening yes? Are being, how you say, not smart."

The Mogu roared at this, stamping his feet and making the very earth shake. He stormed towards our guest of honor, towering over her and yelling down into her face, "YOU DARE TO SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A WAY? YOU ARE AS AN ANT, AND I WILL CRUSH YOU! THESE LANDS AND ALL THAT ARE IN THEM SERVE THE THUNDER KING, AS WILL YOU PUNY THING! ONCE YOU ARE BROKEN THAT IS!"

And with that, he kicked over the feast, the meat falling into the fire and catching ablaze. Mari the Brave watched it, her mouth open in shock. She looked around, seeing as if for the first time how thin we were, how wretched. That he had destroyed some of our food made a tear glisten in her eye, a single drop falling onto the flame. It sizzled there, water meeting fire, her mourning for us made manifest.

The Mogu opened his mouth to gloat over her sadness, when the fire roared up beside her. It curled in the air, cracking like a thousand storms, forming into a shape that had two arms and a body and a very fearsome face. The cooking fire had become a creature of flame, towering over even the Mogu. It reached out, caressing Mari the Brave's face as if to comfort her, and though it was made of flame, she did not burn but continued to look at us sadly.

The Mogu roared, lightning flying from his hands and striking the flames. But lightning does little to fire, and the creature turned its attention from trying to comfort our dear friend Mari to the Mogu that was trying to destroy it. It roared higher, flames as bright as daylight before it crashed down upon the Mogu.

In a moment it was over, the creature burned away to nothing, the flames receding again and once more becoming a cooking fire. Mari the Brave stood beside it, looking at us sadly even as we stared in awe at the burned spot on the ground where the Mogu had once stood.

And then the cheers brought our guest to life, her smile returning as we crowded around her in celebration. In that moment, her sorrow for us was forgotten, and our preparations for our feast resumed. She had freed us from the Mogu, and for that we would throw her the largest banquet the town had ever seen, our hunger sated at last, and our fears conquered.

The lorewalker smiled, lowering the scroll as those listening applauded. He began to carefully roll it up, preserving it as a history record for his town. He had embellished the tale a bit, but it was true enough, and though he was old he could not recount a time when he had been happier, and it was all thanks to their friend, Mari the Brave, whom he had immortalized in his tale.   

Site Write 2, Entry 14- How to talk to the dead

Beckyann walked softly through the dark, cavernous space deep beneath the ground. Two knights flanked her on either side, each of them with their runeblades drawn and their glowing blue eyes staring into the darkness cautiously. This far within the mines of Krasarang, one never knew what one would encounter in the haunted spaces the Mogu had carved from the rocks.

They had been on a patrol near the Alliance garrison in Krasarang when an order had come through the comm to head into the mines. Sent directly from Central, it had left Beckyann and her men with little choice in the matter. They had been ordered to divert their patrol to assist another group of Ebon Blade that had failed to report in from the mine's interior chambers.

"Keep sharp here," Beckyann murmured, her voice low. The original patrol had been sent to examine what was reportedly a more powerful spirit trap set by the Mogu deep within the mines, and the fact that they had not reported back boded ill for what they would find. At the far end of the cavern, Beckyann could make out the faint shimmering of light coming from a brighter stone. She gestured to her men, the trio moving forward across the uneven and broken rocks of the cavern's natural floor.

As they drew nearer, the glow intensified, and Beckyann immediately recognized the light of one of the Mogu crystals that had been designed to trap wayward spirits within the mines. They could work their slave-miners to death and then capture their spirits for use in magical constructs or even simply to put them back to work in the mines as spirits, enslaved for all eternity to the will of the Mogu. It was a terrible fate, and the crystal she saw now was much larger than the others that had been present higher up in the mines. In fact, it was glowing with such power that she brought her hand up to bring her patrol to a halt, an uneasy feeling passing through her.

Unfortunately, it was far too late.

Even as they paused, magic flared all around them, the spells an ancient trap set by the Mogu throughout the chamber. Runes glowed beneath their feet, and each of the Death Knights looked down in shock as energy began to drain from them. Beckyann stumbled forward a few feet, feeling a weakness flow through her that she was not accustomed to. With horror she realized the room was designed to drain the spirits from larger beasts that might make their way down into the chambers below, and the Mogu likely herded them into this chamber so that their spirits could be stolen and put to other uses.

Her fingers numb as her energy was drained, Beckyann watched as her runeblade tumbled from her hands, powerless to stop it. The others fell to their knees, the weakness making it impossible to stand. She joined them a moment later, sliding to the floor without a sound, the spell so powerful that it became difficult to do anything other than move her eyes to take in the limited view her place on the floor gave her. She could see one of her patrol laying next to her, equally weakened by the magic, trapped helplessly as the energy continued to drain magic from them.

In the distant recesses of the chamber, she heard the sound of stones grinding as the Mogu spirit-slavers emerged from their hidden chambers, eager to dispatch the creatures caught in their trap as they were designed to do. Completely unable to move or defend herself, Beckyann could only rage as she felt them drawing near.

She had been deceived. Central must have known that the previous patrol had run into this trouble. They wouldn't have sent only her small group in to deal with such a dangerous trap unless they intended for her not to make it out. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that a certain Captain Pendagast was responsible for this, and the seething hatred she felt surging through her was made all the worse by her helplessness. Not only that, but there was an unusual underlying surge of fear in her as she realized her spirit would once again be enslaved against her will, her undeath about to enter a new chapter of horrors. The choking fear made her gasp slightly, the only sound she was able to utter.

Out of the corner of her limited field of vision she saw the ghostly Mogu slavers approaching. They grinned, their semi-corporeal forms glowing as they brought deadly pointed spears up, the tips glowing with dark magics. With a smirk one of the slavers drove the spear into one of Beckyann's Knights, the weapon striking the ground beneath him as it was driven deep into his body. Dark black blood gushed out as the weapon's energies discharged into the man's body, and he twitched as he began to die from the wound, the magic of the spirit trap drawing his spirit out through the opening the spear had made. She could see it floating in the air for a moment, a look of utter horror expressed on its face before it was sucked into the crystal.

And so this is how I die. Not really very heroic. I suppose it wasn't the first time either though. Oh well.

The Mogu slavers turned, one of them walking towards her. She watched, unable to move as it brought its spear up. Just before it was about to thrust the weapon down into her body there was a loud crack that echoed through the chamber, making the Mogu slavers pause. They glanced at one another as a second cracking sound boomed out, this one more ominous. A second later, the ceiling above the Mogu slaver cracked open, the rock cascading down atop him and burying him. Although he was a spirit, the Mogu constructs had to have physical form in order to perform their work. The stones crushed the slaver utterly, a pile of stone and expanding cloud of dust marking where he had once stood.

Beckyann blinked once, unable to come to terms with what had just happened. As the dust cleared, something moved atop the pile of rubble, and Beckyann's eyes widened in shock as she saw a figure rising up from the dust.

She was a Draenei, but unlike one Beckyann had ever seen before. Dressed in a motley assortment of chain mail that covered only her upper torso and a chain skirt, the pig-tailed, silver haired creature had a number of strange fetishes, sigils, and feathers tied in her hair and attached to her armor. As she rose from the rubble where she'd fallen, she coughed a few times, brushing dust from herself, her fetishes clacking together as she moved. She peered up at the ceiling, where a neatly Draenei sized hole had been formed by her passage.

The Draenei looked down, blinking once as she took in the cavern, the two trapped Death Knights, the Mogu slavers, and the spirit trap crystal. She shook her head, her pigtails bouncing as her hair moved, "Oooof! Floor is not being good, yes? And room is being filled with ghosts! Vas not expecting this, no!"

The words were greeted with silence, the Death Knights unable to speak and the Mogu unable to comprehend what exactly was going on. The Draenei slid down the fallen stones, her hooves giving her poor purchase in the dim light as she stepped on the chamber's floor. The Mogu looked at one another, shrugging before bringing their spears up and pointing them at the Draenei.

To Beckyann's surprise, the Draenei was either unconcerned by the slaver spirits or not aware of the danger she was in. She merely looked at them and frowned before waving her hands at them like one might at a dog, "Shoo! Be going now, yes!"

Not surprisingly, the Mogu did not heed the rather impolite command, moving towards her as a group, their spears held up. The Draenei pouted at them, reaching down into the rubble to retrieve what appeared to be a troll tribal shield and a mace. She hung the mace from her belt, digging into a pouch to pull out some small trinkets that Beckyann could not clearly see from the floor.

She was out of time. The first of the Mogu swung at her, the spear forcing her to move back, stumbling on the stones. The sudden move made her jerk her arm, and the small trinkets tumbled to the floor, flaring to life as four totems appeared around her. Beckyann's eyes widened again as she finally came to understand the Draenei was a shaman, and an eccentric one at that.

A second Mogu swung at her, his spear casually deflected by a quick movement of her shield. Despite her rather aloof nature, Beckyann could see she was no stranger to combat, and her mace was in her hand again in an instant, its swing forcing the creatures back, "Am saying to shoo! Be going now, yes! Am not vanting to hurt!"

Beckyann winced as one of the slavers began to chant, black magics forming in the air. The spell lashed out, traveling towards the Draenei at high speeds. Beckyann raged, knowing the spell would slay her and mourning her would-be rescuer. She needn't have worried however; the spell began to arc as it flew through the air, drawn down into one of the glowing totems. It struck the strangely glowing stones, the energies sparking around it as the spell was grounded. Another of the slavers charged at the Draenei, his weapon missing her by a narrow margin and striking another of the totems. Beckyann would have winced if she'd been able to as the discharge from the totem made the very ground shake. It was powerful enough to hurl the slaver spirit away, stunning even the undead.

"You are being...vhat is vord...naughty dead!" the Draenei shouted. "Am saying for last time to be going! Vill be hitting if not, yes!"

She reached into her pouch again, drawing one more trinket out and tossing it. To Beckyann, it looked like a small firefly or ember, and it drifted amongst the combatants who continued to charge the shaman. The Draenei retreated to the pile of rubble, using her shield and mace to fend off her attackers. The ember drifted behind the ground, landing finally upon one of the broken wooden support beams that had collapsed with the Draenei's unexpected arrival. It flared to life instantly, flames roaring from the wood as a fire elemental arose above the flames. The slavers in the back who had been about to cast more spells at the shaman were snatched up by the flaming creature, the shrieks of the dead being sent to their rest echoing throughout the enclosed space.

The shaman sighed, shaking her head sadly and waggling a finger at the remaining Mogu, who had begun to back up as they realized that the Draenei was more than she appeared, "Vas telling you, yes? Dead are not hitting! Vill help you rest now, yes. Am being sorry for you."

With that she brought her hands up and a brilliant flare of lightning arced from her fingertips, slashing through the air and striking the Mogu. It arced, jumping from one to another, the energies blinding in their intensity for a moment and burning them away in a flash of light. A thunderous boom echoed through the chamber, dislodging more rocks from the ceiling and raining them down on the Draenei's head. Beckyann saw her manage to get her shield up above her at the last possible moment as a particularly large chunk of stone knocked her over and sent her tumbling to the floor.

"Ooof! Vas not being best plan, yes?" the shaman said as she picked herself up from the floor and began to dust herself off for the second time. She looked at the trapped Death Knights, clicking her tongue in her mouth as she thought about their situation. "Other spirits are being stuck, yes? Vill fix! Am good at fixing!"

Beckyann would have groaned if she were able to talk, not knowing what the Draenei would do. She couldn't actually approach the trapped Death Knights or she'd be captured by the runes on the floor as well. A moment later Beckyann's thoughts were answered as the Draenei brought her hands up, energies beginning to build on her fingertips. Beckyann raged in her mind, wanting to scream at the shaman to stop before it was too late.

Lightning arced from her hands, striking the crystal and rebounding as the wards it had in place on it reflected the spell. The look on the Draenei's face would have been comical as her spell flew back towards her if not for the direness of the situation. As it was, the shaman was forced to throw herself to the floor, the bolt of electricity passing just between her horns and making both of her pigtails stand upright and flare out like the quills on a porcupine. Shouts erupted further up the hallway as the lightning continued on its merry way, bouncing off of walls and deflecting into the chambers beyond where Alliance forces were stationed. Beckyann could distinctly hear people cursing in the distance.

The spells holding Beckyann weakened slightly as the crystal's energy was partially depleted from repelling the lightning. She managed to groan, a few words slipping out, "J-just...r-run..."

"Oh, spirit is being silly now, yes!" the shaman said, picking herself up off the floor and brushing her skirt off for the third time. "Am knowing now vhat is needed, yes! Crystal is being strong, but is being on stone floor. Floor is melting, yes!"

"F-floor...is...melting..?" Beckyann murmured. Her eyes widened as the shaman pointed again, this time an intense heat flaring at her fingertips. The stone beneath the spirit trap began to glow as it turned molten, the shaman's control of the elements impressive despite her lack of planning. The cavern's floor began to sink as it became molten lava, the crystal of the spirit trap sinking into the floor as the foundation fell out beneath it. As it sank into the lava, magic flared around it and its energies failed abruptly, spirits howling out of it and into the air around them. Beckyann could feel the spells holding her in place fail and she quickly rose, snatching up her runeblade and moving away from the lava.

As she retreated, she paused, seeing the shaman standing on the edge of the glowing pit, spirits flowing in the air around her. She smiled, her hands outstretched as if to greet them. One by one they began to fade as the shaman freed them with whispered words. After the last had gone, she turned and smiled at Beckyann, nodding her head, the fetishes in her hair clacking together.

"Be going in peace, spirit! Vill be seeing again, yes," the shaman said.

Beckyann blinked, sheathing her weapon, at a loss for what to say and unused to being rescued. Finally she managed to speak, her voice low, "I thank you for the aid you've given me, Draenei. I will not forget it, even if we don't actually meet again."

The shaman waved happily at Beckyann, several bangles clinking on her wrists, "Am being Mariskka! Just Mariskka! And vill be seeing again, yes. Spirits are saying is so. Being going now, spirit! Are needed still, yes."

Not knowing how to respond, Beckyann merely nodded, offering the strange Draenei a salute before turning and leading her remaining squad member away. She did indeed have things to be doing; she was needed back at Acherus after all.

Someone was going to pay for this.

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.

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.

Of Frogs and Men

It had not taken Mariskka long to travel by gryphon from Aerie Peak to Menethil Harbor. Although she hated to travel by sea, she'd managed to take a boat from there to Theramore, and was only bedridden with seasickness for two days after the voyage. Figuring she'd made good time, she happily set out on the next stage of her journey to uncover everything that had been discussed between herself, Chelody Smallwing, and the Forsaken named Mortanus that believed an alternate view of events transpiring in the world.

As she left the swamps around Theramore behind her, the shaman immediately began to encounter signs of the ongoing struggle between the Horde and Alliance within the Southern Barrens region. Men, supplies, war machines, horses, and a variety of other things streamed down the roads in a never-ending wave that often left her standing by the side of the road to let the crowds pass her. A few times guards at security checkpoints questioned her harshly, wanting to know where she was going and what her business was about. She managed to dismiss their concerns, explaining her skills with healing and convincing them to let her pass through.

When she finally entered the barrens themselves, she encountered precisely what she had been hoping to avoid; endless war. Armies clashed on the grassy fields, and it took the shaman quite some time to navigate her way around the conflicts in an effort to avoid being sucked into them.

It was from this journey that she found herself crouched in some tall grass, her eyes taking in a sight that shocked her sensibilities to the core. Before her the wreckage of the peaceful Tauren village of Camp Taurajo spread out as far as the eye could see, feeble trails of smoke still curling from the wreckage of tents and walls that had once protected the villagers from the natural forces on the open plains of the barrens. Even at this distance, Mariskka could see the bodies lying still amongst the debris, carrion birds circling overhead and diving down to feed now and then.

Seeing movement, the shaman leaned forward, parting the grass before her to get a better view. Her eyes widened in horror at what she saw; looters stalked the remains of the village taking valuables from the burned houses and off the bodies themselves; looters dressed in the uniforms of the Alliance military.

"No...is not being so," Mariskka murmured, watching the humans as they pried simple copper jewelry from the body of a dead Tauren. Many of the bodies lying amongst the rubble looked like they were too small to be the powerful warriors of that race, and Mariskka had seen enough genocide in her days to know that not all of the dead had been defending the camp.

She gasped as two sets of hands suddenly reached out and grabbed her from behind, dragging her backwards through the grass. Another hand covered her mouth as she tried to call out for help and she was roughly dragged by what she realized were a group of three humans. Her hooves dug furrows into the ground as she was pulled away from the underbrush where she'd been hiding.

Despite her larger size she was outnumbered three to one, and her struggles did little but earn her a few cuffs to the side of the head as the men took her towards a large, free-standing tree near the edge of the destroyed Tauren village. There, amongst the undergrowth around the tree's base, another human stood, his arms crossed as he watched the distant activity in the camp. He turned as the trio dragged the shaman before him, roughly shoving her forward.

"Well well, what have we here?" The man said, looking Mariskka over carefully. "A draenei, out here in the barrens? And what exactly were you doing?"

"Captain! We saw her spying on the camp!" One of the men behind Mariskka blurted out.

Mariskka said nothing as the man, no the 'captain' looked over her shoulder and shot the man a withering glare, silencing him. He turned his attention back to the draenei, his expression promising that she'd best answer his questions. "And did you see anything interesting little spy?"

Mariskka blinked and shook her head. "Am not being spy, no. Am coming to see vhat is happening at camp. Hearing bad things, yes. Alliance army command is saying looters are being rounded up, is saying Tauren are being beaten here and...how you say...driven off?"

The captain looked at the three men behind Mariskka with a smirk. "Yes, all of that is quite true as you can see. The Tauren have been defeated, although if I'd have had my way I would have ordered them all slain rather than 'accidentally' allowing some of their young and feeble to escape through our lines. Such is the nature of war I suppose."

Mariskka looked at the human with surprise. "Young are not being varriors, no. Should not be killing or letting come to harm. Are being future of peace."

The man barked out a harsh laugh. "They are beasts, nothing more. The ones that remained got what they deserved, and I hope that the rest suffer greatly before they too get what they deserve. We've tolerated the Horde for long enough."

Mariskka sighed and shook her head. "Are having too much hatred, yes. Should be stopping var, not adding to it! And...vhy are vatching looters in town? You should be stopping, yes. Are..vhat is vord...desecrating...the dead? Yes, are desecrating. Is not right. Am seeing spirits there in great pain."

The man smiled cruelly at her. "I was sent to stop the looters, this is true. Unfortunately, I couldn't locate any. A shame, wouldn't you say?"

Mariskka tilted her head, her pigtails bouncing as she looked at him in confusion, totally missing the subtle point he was making. "Vhat are talking about? Am seeing them right there! Are being almost a dozen in sight, yes!"

The man frowned. "Such a disappointment. I was hoping that you would see the...opportunities we have here. The army does not pay nearly well enough you know."

The shaman's eyes widened in shock. "You are letting them bribe?! Are desecrating dead! Must be stopping!" Her outrage was clear in her words.

The man took a step closer to the Draenei, his frown having turned into a mask of anger. "As I said, there are opportunities here that one cannot pass up. It dawns on me that there are quite a few additional opportunities that I'd not considered when I awoke this morning."

The last sentence was punctuated by a rather lewd look that lingered far longer on Mariskka's body than the shaman cared for. The men behind her chuckled, picking up on the captain's suggestion immediately. The captain stepped closer, a hand's width separating the two. She could smell the stench of sour ale on him as he spoke again.

"Not only did we not find any looters, but we also didn't see any Draenei today either," he sneered. His hand came up to caress her face and Mariskka recoiled, pulling her head back to the laughter of the men behind her.

She glared at the captain and shook her head. "Is being shame that you are not learning lesson from vords alone, yes."

She reached out and pressed her hand against the man's chest. He felt an odd tingle, but thought nothing of it at first. His vision became blurred, and he shook his head as it seemed the draenei was suddenly beginning to tower over him. He looked up at her in awe, thinking she was now almost five times his size. As his vision blurred more, her huge form, now hundreds of times larger than him, loomed over his like a shadow of doom. He realized in a panic that he was almost eye level with one of her hooves!

Frantically the man called out to his men, who had stunned looks on their faces. Unfortunately, all that came from his mouth was a *ribbit*.

Mariskka smiled and bent down, scooping the frog that had been the captain up in her palm and turning to glare at the men behind her. A tension filled the air around her, like a storm about to break. The feeling it gave them was primal, and like animals seeking shelter they involuntarily took a step back from the Draenei. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she held the frog out for them to see.

"Are stopping looting now am thinking," she said quietly. "Vould not vant to be...hurting you. Are taking others and reporting back to army command, yes?"

The men quickly nodded, turning pale at the threat. They slowly backed up farther and turned to go. The last of the three paused and shot Mariskka a glance, speaking softly. "What uh...what are you going to ummm...do with him?"

Mariskka smiled sweetly at him and said, "Vill see if he is getting vhat he deserves, yes? Is vhat he is vanting of Tauren after all."

The man had no comment as he turned and hurried away. An hour later a group of ten would-be looters reported back to the Alliance Forward Command. They were harshly disciplined, but did manage to survive the experience and learn something from it.

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

In an area of the barrens that had been overtaken by massive plant growth, the captain's eyes opened and he looked around him in shock. For a time, his thoughts had been scattered and confused, and the idea of eating insects had been appealing to him as his frog body had given him natural urges.

Now though he was back to his normal form, or at least so he thought. He could feel his fingers and toes, and think clearly, but something was wrong. The trees around him were growing from the sky!

He blinked a few more times, clearing his vision and realized that the trees were not growing the wrong way, instead he was hanging upside down! He looked 'up' frantically and saw that he was in the grasp of one of the wild vines that had spawned in this region of the Barrens, suspended far above the ground.

He pinwheeled his arms frantically, but the vine held tight, keeping him far from the ground and the ability to escape. In a panic, the captain looked around, spying the simple hide tents of a tauren outpost nearby. With shock, he realized that his own hope of escaping the vine would come if he yelled loud enough to get the tauren to aid him.

He had been left to beg mercy of those to whom he would give none. A just punishment for a man of his wicked desires. He could only pray that his foes would aid him, instead of giving him what he really deserved.

Mariskka never looked back as she rode away from the clearing, her warhorse's hooves giving off a soothing rhythm that calmed her mind. She would have much work to do settling the spirits of the Tauren who had died around Camp T, but it was work that she looked forward to. She could do much good here it seemed.

The Truth of Southshore

The sun beat down warmly on the grass as Mariskka stood in the clearing off the side of the road, her warhorse grazing nearby. Hillsbrad was beautiful in the late summer, the fields giving way to small clusters of trees here and there where small animals made their homes. The shaman took a deep breath, savoring the scents and sounds of the wilderness around her as she prepared herself for what she had to do next. Although Chelody and others had warned her what to expect in Southshore, she had to see for herself, had to know for certain that it was not all an exaggeration or propaganda, although she knew in her heart that it wasn't.

The breath of fresh air having steadied her, the shaman closed her eyes, reaching out with the elements and allowing her mind's eye to wander far from where she stood. The spell, known as Farsight, let her see impossible distances and she used it now to focus her gaze on Southshore, which was to the west of her current position. Almost immediately her mind filled with the vision, as if she were standing there within the tiny town.

Or what was left of the town.

Mariskka gave a heartbroken gasp as she saw what had become of that tiny place where she'd spent so much time. The buildings were in ruins, many of them destroyed outright and the town itself was a poisoned, toxic place fit only for the slimes that crawled across the barren, dead ground. Everything was gone, everyone was dead and there was no undoing the truth of what she saw.

"No! Cannot be!" she whispered quietly, her vision still surveying the town. "All of them are being gone. Vhy is this happening to peaceful place?"

As she spoke the words in a choked voice, she let her vision move away from the wreckage, the images flying miles across the countryside of Hillsbrad. "Maybe finding more at farms, yes. Maybe are survivors?" she said to herself quietly.

It was not to be. The Hillsbrad farms were gone, and in their place an ominous Forsaken structure loomed over the once serene countryside. As Mariskka's magical sight traversed the walls, she cried out in horror at what she saw. The Forsaken were farming there, using human victims to feed ghouls, using the bodies of the deceased to create horrors. It was a complete abomination, an utter desecration of the land and the people who once lived upon it.

"No! Is not being true!" Mariskka said in a quiet voice, letting her vision fade. She was rational enough to understand that it WAS true, but she couldn't fathom why anyone would do such things, how it could be tolerated. Certainly she would not tolerate it a second longer than she had to. Her fists clenched in anger, a feeling she rarely experienced.

A sound made her head snap around and her eyes widen. There, on the road nearby she saw a Forsaken patrol herding a group of prisoners down the road towards the 'farms'. The group was composed of two guards on foot and a captain on an undead steed, and in front of them stumbled a small family of three; husband, wife and child.

They were taking a child to the 'farm'.

Mariskka shook her head, sending her pigtails bouncing. She would not allow it. She turned towards her horse, moving to undo its saddle and tack. It pawed at the ground anxiously, and she smiled and pat it as she worked.

"I must be going. You are knowing this, yes. In case is last time vee are talking I am setting free." She said quietly. "Spirit is commended to elements, am not fearing vhat must be done."

And then it was time. With her warhorse free to roam, Mariskka's form shimmered into that of a wolf, and in a flash of an eye she was dashing through the grass towards the distant figures.

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

There was little cover, and the Forsaken saw the wolf long before it reached them. They were always on alert after all, the humans who once owned these lands and their allies hated what had happened here, and revenge was never far from the thoughts of their foes. One of the two walking guards paused, reaching to his back and removing a crossbow. The Forsaken captain on horseback nodded, and the soldier pointed his weapon and let a bolt fly.

The wolf yelped as the bolt struck it, but it came on with determination that was unnatural to such a creature. With a frown, the captain watched as it dashed towards his horse, a sneer on his face as he braced himself for the tiny creature's impact with his undead mount. As he expected, the wolf leaped high into the air right towards him.

What he was NOT expecting was that it would shimmer and become a mail-armored draenei that would slam into him shield first.

Draenei, Forsaken, and undead steed all tumbled into a pile, the force of Mariskka's impact shattering bones on the mount and crushing the Forsaken beneath her as she landed on top. In a heartbeat she sprang to her feet, hands extended as a bolt of lightning lept from them to strike one of the two dismounted guards. His back arched and electricity played along his undead form as he stiffly toppled over, little after shocks of energy dancing in the air around him. The second Forsaken reeled back, making the mistake of turning his back on his prisoners. The man he had been herding immediately wrapped his chains around the undead's neck, pulling tight and trying to control him.

"Be fleeing vith family!" Mariskka shouted in encouragement, turning to see to the captain she had knocked over. As she spun around, his sword plunged into her side. He had risen from the wreckage of his steed and drawn his steel in the time it had taken her to finish off the enemies on foot. She gasped as he pulled the weapon free, her blue blood staining the blade and pattering onto the dirt of the road.

"Stupid wench," he snarled. "You aren't even from this place. Look at your foul blood; it's useless for our experiments and what's worse you've ruined my horse."

Mariskka heard him only dimly as he struck at her again. Wounded, she was only able to half-shield herself and his blade slipped off the metal disc protecting her arm and into her shoulder. She moaned and stumbled backwards, her vision darkening.

"I would eat your flesh, but it's not even good enough for eating," the forsaken snarled. He viciously kicked the shaman, toppling her to the dusty trail and stepping past her towards the prisoners. The man had finished off the second guard, but with nowhere to run he stood valiantly facing the forsaken, shielding his family from the blade that dripped with alien blood.

"You three however will make excellent additions to the Dark Lady's cause once you've been properly indoctrinated," the captain sneered. "You'll soon find that your precious flesh is not so important when compared to her glory. Your little would-be rescuer has met her destiny."

But the prisoner wasn't looking at the forsaken. Instead, his eyes widened as a little Ankh around Mariskka's neck glowed with an almost eye-searing light before it melted away. Almost instantly her mortal wounds partially closed, and her eyes snapped open. She rose quickly from the ground, still in a rather significant amount of pain.

"Is not being time yet, no." She said quietly.

The Forsaken spun around, just in time to see the heavy mace that Mariskka carried flying towards his face. As it connected with his head, it flared to life, the fiery enchantments on it calling the power of the elements to the head of the weapon. He perished in flames, his death mercifully quick.

Silence fell over the battlefield and the human prisoners looked at Mariskka with concern. She swayed on her hooves, but managed to focus enough to call forth some magic to heal the worst of her wounds. Steading herself, she brought a hand to her mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Moments later the clatter of hooves could be heard as her warhorse trotted from the nearby fields.

She looked at the humans and gave them a pained smile. "Be taking family on horse and going to Aerie Peak, yes. I vill follow later on. Are things I am doing still, yes."

The human looked at the warhorse and then back at the draenei, still not believing his family had been saved before they were brought to the farms of Hillsbrad. "I...thank you miss. You should be coming with us though, it's not safe here."

Mariskka shook her head, turning towards the fallen Forsaken. "No. Are being good men once, and are deserving to have spirits released. No matter vhat they are doing vith unlife, this is not being the people they once vere. You are understanding?"

The man shook his head, helping his wife onto the back of the horse and then lifting his child up. He didn't understand how anyone would even care about such creatures. "No, but I won't begrudge you whatever it is you must do. I will remain in Aerie Peak, and if you don't return, I'll send people to look for you."

He turned away, leading the horse and his family towards the safety of the distant mountain ranges and the dwarves who lived there. He stopped only once, turning to look back from a distant hill. From far away, he saw the draenei kneeling before the bodies of the fallen, a small totem on the ground before her.

For the briefest of moments, he saw the outline of a man, ghostly in appearance standing before her, a look of serenity on his face before the vision faded. Peace being granted to those who some would say should never be given quarter again after what they'd done.

He turned away, not knowing what to make of it or the Draenei. For the rest of his life he would keep an image of her in his mind, forever in that pose, her face peaceful as she sang to the spirits of the dead.

Of Shopping and Fortunes

Mariskka smiled happily to herself as her hooves clattered on the paving stones of Old Town. She was heading away from the command center and her recent encounter with Olow Domin, the large but seemingly friendly worgen warrior who was one of the first to approach her after she'd arrived in the city.

As she made her way across one of the stone bridges that spanned the many canals of Stormwind, her smile widened as she took in the sights and sounds of the busy trade district of the city. Having spent the past several years in Nagrand by herself, the sight of so many bodies packed so tightly together was an experience that she was unaccustomed to. Although she had a mission in mind, her natural curiosity drew her eyes in every direction as she made her way through the press of people.

Ahead of her, a tall stone structure rose above the surrounding buildings, the crowds of people gathering in front of it even thicker than elsewhere in the district. Mariskka pressed onward, now occasionally bumping into others as the crowd ebbed and flowed around her. Taller than many of the other races, she was still short compared to other Draenei and had a hard time seeing past all of the people to the interior of the structure. With many "Oof! Am being sorry!" and "Pardoning me please!" she managed to squeeze her way into the building.

Within, her senses reeled with the onrush of sound as people shouted, argued, bartered, exclaimed over goods, or simply made small talk as they browsed the wares within the main auction building. Eyes wide, Mariskka moved further into the building, her gaze barely resting in any place for more than a few seconds as she soaked up the sights and sounds of the busy trade area. Not watching where she was going, she soon collided with a man that was carrying bolts of fabric, knocking both of them to the ground. She landed on her rear, her tail out behind her and a swatch of silk cloth dangling from one of her horns.

"Eee! Am being so sorry! Vas not vatching vhere going!" she exclaimed from the floor as the human hastily tried to pick up his bolts of fabric before they were stepped on. The man grunted at her apology, not bothering to reply as he snatched the cloth from her horns and neatly folded it back onto the pile. Mariskka scrambled to her feet backing up quickly to give the man room to gather his things.

Right into a family of four that had been walking past.

Her tail, swaying behind her as she regained her balance, smacked a lollipop from a child's hand right as he had been about to bring it to his mouth. The child began to wail, and Mariskka whirled, surprised at the sound. The parents gave her dirty looks as they tried to soothe their yelling child, and Mariskka's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Ack! Am thinking I should be leaving soon!" she mumbled to herself before bowing to the family. "Am being sorry, yes. Vill buy child new candy, yes!"

"Miss, that's really not nec.." the father of the child began. Mariskka cut him off, waving her hands about frantically and pulling her coin purse out. She quickly grabbed a fistful of coins and presented them to the man. "Is being enough, yes?"

The man's eyes widened as he saw five gold coins sitting in the palm of her hand. He shook his head and sighed, "Miss, that's far too much money for a simple piece of candy. You aren't from around here, are you?"

Mariskka's face fell as she realized she'd made yet another mistake. "Vas only trying to...how you say...make right? Am being vrong?"

The man sighed again, and with a little ribbing from his wife who stood nearby with a smile on her face, he looked at Mariskka and shook his head again. "No, you're not wrong, it's just too much money. Here, what are you trying to buy now? You're going to get totally fleeced if you just start flashing that much money around at everything you're interested in buying!"

Mariskka blinked at him, tilting her head and setting her pigtails bouncing. "Am not looking to buy fleece, no. Vould not be vanting this!"

The man rolled his eyes and sighed; it was going to turn into a very long afternoon he was thinking.

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

Mariskka sighed happily as she slid into a chair at a table within the Blue Recluse. She took care to make sure her tail was tucked out of the way to avoid accidents (A lesson she had picked up that very day!) and then waved at a serving girl as the other made her rounds through the tavern. The human she'd met earlier in the auction house had been quite helpful, and had directed her to this inn for the night. Previously she'd been camping in Elwynn forest, and although the weather was nice, the inn provided shelter from the bandits that still roamed those forests.

"One vater please! Vould love if it vas being cold!" Mariskka smiled at the serving girl. The girl nodded and hurried off to fetch the drink, leaving the shaman to her own thoughts. She'd stay for the night perhaps before returning to her duties in Hyjal and along the fronts where the Alliance did battle.

As she waited for her drink, Mariskka pulled out her worn pouch from its place within her armor, taking her scrying cubes out and handling them reverently. With a look of concentration on her face, the shaman threw the cubes down on the table before her, looking to read her own fortune. (Something she did only rarely.)

Wind whispered around her, an unnatural breeze of the elements as the small cubes bounced and then settled down before her. The Draenei leaned forward, studying the images carved onto the glass surfaces with care.

Home, Friendship, Destiny

Mariskka smiled as she looked over the sigils that had been presented to her. Her eyes wandered from the cubes to the comfortable inn around her, and her thoughts wandered to the interesting things she'd done that day.

"Home," She said softly. "Am liking this. Is nice city vith nice people, yes." She looked around the interior of the inn and nodded in satisfaction. "Could be staying avhile, yes. Maybe fortune is being right. Destiny is being adventure here for a time."

She smiled to herself, remembering again her conversation with Olow Domin. Maybe she would find more than a place to stay here. The word 'home' meant so much more than a place to rest one's head after all. Maybe there were many more friendships to forge, and another chapter for her to write in the story of her life.

As she gathered her scrying cubes up, the shaman nodded to herself; adventure would always call to her, would always teach her new things about herself. It would begin again, here in this place.