Fang of the Goddess

*Many years ago, near Pora Elinu*

                Blood was everywhere. It stained the black and white maid uniform Meliday wore. It was speckled across her skin. It pooled in an ever-growing puddle on the fancy stone floor of the servant’s corridor. She knelt in it, feeling its slowly dying warmth soaking into the tights beneath her skirts.

                Her head, with its crown of exquisitely black hair, was hung low, her bloodstained hands holding that of the Elin laying on the floor before her. Like that Elin, Meliday sported short bunny ears on her head, the appendages drooped with stress and sorrow as she held back her tears. The grip of the blood-soaked Elin was weak, and getting weaker by the moment, and Meliday forced herself to shift the gaze of her sinister red eyes off the bloody knife lying on the ground beside her to the soft blue orbs of her dying friend.

                “Why Mel…why…did it come to this?” Paisley’s voice murmured softly.

                For a few moments, Meliday couldn’t respond, the gravity of what she’d done, of the curve that life had just brought her, too heavy to contemplate. Around her, Elins and Popori loyal to Princess Rida ran through the open servant’s door, their boots often stepping in the growing pool of Paisley’s blood. Shouts arose from deeper within the estate as the loyalists encountered resistance from the traitorous household of Lady Faelyn, Meliday’s now former employer.

                After some soul-searching and silence, Meliday finally responded, her voice cracking, “You know why. She was betraying our kingdom. Betraying nature itself through her dealings with the cult. We talked about it, agonized over it. I thought you agreed with me. I thought you wanted to do what’s right.”

                Paisley tried to laugh, the sound a gurgle of blood in her lungs, “Look at you Mel. What are you? Who are you? You’ve the same bunny ears and tail as I do. The same.. demeanor.. Are you a predator now? Do you think you’re strong? You’ve ruined it all, and killed me. You killed me Mel. How does that fit into the Goddess’s plan?”

                For a moment, sorrow crashed over Meliday like a wave. Everything Paisley said was the truth. She wasn’t a warrior, she was a maid, a servant in a noble household. She’d risen above that to warn forces loyal to the Princess about treachery afoot in the estate, and at the last moment, Paisley, dear, sweet Paisley had stood in her way, had fought her. Would die by the mortal wound Meliday had given her. She was no fox, no wolf to be hunting in the forests, and yet there they both were, Paisley dying, and Meliday struggling to accept that her friend, no, her beloved and the only person she ever cared about, would be gone because of what she had done. There were no words to take back the moments that had led to this. Maybe if Paisley hadn’t tried to stop her from letting the loyalists in, maybe if Meliday had been able to talk her out of standing by traitors…

                No.

                Coldly, Meliday let Paisley’s hand fall from hers. She rose, standing over the dying Elin, looking at her and truly seeing her for the first time as she lay dying in her blood. Around her several of the invading loyalists paused, none of them interfering. They saw the emblem of Princess Rida pinned to Meliday’s dress, and they had been briefed on the servant that had been brave enough to stand for her kingdom. Meliday ignored them all, her gaze suddenly filled with malice the likes of which had never cross her features before. When she spoke, her voice was strong, echoing in the corridors with her conviction, “No, Pais, you ruined it all. You broke our sacred duty to protect our kingdom, to protect nature. You knew what was happening here just as much as I did, and you did nothing to stop it. I did what was right.”

                Paisley offered Meliday a bloody smile, shaking her head, “I hope… you’re happy then. With your rightness. You’re just a dumb bunny in the end, and now you’ll be alone like prey in the forest.”

                Meliday stared down at her dying beloved coldly, her voice now touched with the malice in her eyes, “That is the problem with you Pais. You couldn’t look beyond these walls, beyond what we were given and the privilege it was to work here. I’m no predator, but I’m no prey either. I am a tooth. A fang in the mouth of the Goddess. I understand now why I was made, why I exist. We each have a path to walk, but we walk it together, we are Her will and dream together. I’m no predator, but I was made to fight for her, and to take the lives of those who stand against her vision and send them back to her embrace. Goodbye Paisley. If you are born again, try not being a traitorous bitch.”

                Stunned silence filled the corridor, the Elins around Meliday glancing at one another and then at the red-eyed and angry maid who had brought down an entire traitorous noble estate. For her part, Meliday felt her heart breaking, but she shoved it away, shoved all the feelings away. She was alive, she had done what the Goddess would have wanted by removing a threat to nature, and now she would find a new way to fulfill that destiny. Without another look down, Meliday turned and stalked away from the dying Elin, her shoes trailing the blood she’d spilled, leaving it behind with her broken heart.

*Current Day, Oblivion Woods*

                Red eyes peered through a black leather mask, counting the Deva cultists of Lok gathered in the lower chamber of the cavern below her. Perched on a ledge, Meliday’s body was covered in skin-tight leather armor that blended seamlessly into the darkness. Her long black hair was tied back behind the mask over her face, a black and white bow keeping it in place.

                She counted five cultists in total, two in front of the rusty iron cage anchored in the stone floor of the cavern, and three more by the corridor leading out. Within the cage were several Federation citizens, including a wounded Elin that was the target of Meliday’s mission. Princess Rida did not like it when her nobles were captured and mistreated by disgusting cultists, and as part of the Princess’s intelligence forces, Meliday’s superiors had deployed her to express the Princess’s displeasure.

                Beneath the mask, Meliday grinned as she began to move silently in the darkness.

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

                Federation Coordinator Natasha Venik was in despair. The cultists had kept them in a cage for two days now. Occasionally they’d come and take one of the prisoners away, presumably for some foul ritual given the fact that none of them ever returned. They’d wounded a few of the prisoners too, including an Elin that the others whispered was somewhat important. There was little they could do for her though except bind the gash in her leg, and Natasha gripped the bars of the cage in frustrated silence. Any outcry would cause the guards to come into the cage and mete out punishment, but it was almost more than she could tolerate.

                A moment later, Natasha found herself blinking in surprise as something small and black fell from a ledge above them out of the darkness. It hung there for a moment, unnoticed by the guards. She squinted, finally coming to realize that it was a rope and that a tiny black blob, no larger than four feet or so in size, was sliding down almost on top of the head of the nearest guard.

                As the figure drew nearer, Natasha’s eyes widened as she realized it was an Elin rappelling down the rope upside down. The little creature neared the height of the guard’s head and suddenly flipped off the rope and onto his shoulders, a slight ‘snick’ sound the only noise as a coal-dulled blade slid into his neck. Even as he crumpled, the Elin rolled off him, a knife flying from her hands and into the eye of the guard on the other side of the cage. He had no time to react before he was dead, the sound of his body hitting the stone floor drawing the gaze of the other three Devas and causing them to turn to look in shocked surprise at the bodies of their comrades.

                In front of the cage, the masked Elin turned towards Natasha, her voice deep but adorable, the sound contrasting sharply with what she said, “Princess Rida sends her regards. The ledge above leads to an exit that I have…cleared. Get everyone out while I deal with the rest of this scum.”

                Natasha nodded numbly as the Elin scooped up the cage keys off a fallen guard and thrust them into her hand. Meliday turned as the other three Devas drew weapons and began to charge across the cavern at her, their shouts echoing through the torch-lit darkness.

                For her part, Meliday just smiled beneath her mask, a hand reaching to her back and tugging on the ring mounted here. Her four-bladed, three-foot-wide shuriken was in her hand a moment later, the unusual weapon almost akin to a round glaive. She dashed towards the three attackers, her small size counter-acted by her almost unnatural swiftness. A moment later she went to one knee, sliding beneath a sword swing that would have taken off the tips of her bunny ears if she’d not leaned back. She skidded behind the first attacker, her shuriken slicing through the Deva’s tendons and making him fall to the floor.

                Meliday was up a second later, her weapon swinging around and easily parrying the blows from the next of the Devas. The horned creature shrieked in her face, and she silently blocked another blow before shifting around him and impaling him in the side with one of her weapon’s points. He gasped as blood sprayed from the wound, falling away from her and allowing Meliday to use her feet to kick off him, going airborne and over the head of the third attacker. He whirled to strike at her, but he was too slow and her weapon struck him in the throat before he could retaliate.

                In the corridors beyond, cries rose at the sound of combat and shouting coming from the prisoner’s room. Meliday spared a quick glance at the cage and was satisfied to see that most of the prisoners had already climbed the rope. They were just hoisting the wounded Elin up now. Up above, Natasha caught Meliday’s gaze, the two nodding at each other.

                “Hurry, we’ll throw the rope back down after we hoist her up so you can join us!” Natasha shouted.

                Meliday merely shrugged, walking forward and casually executing the Deva whom she had disabled earlier. She pointed towards the roars coming from the corridor beyond, her voice almost filled with desire as she spoke, “There are more coming. Someone will need to slow them down so you can all get out. Go. I’ll join you later.”

                Natasha frowned, even as they pulled the wounded Elin prisoner to safety, she shook her head, “No, there’s way too many of them. You’ll get killed!”

                Meliday shrugged again, her voice behind the mask almost like iron, “I’m a weapon. Weapons don’t die, they break when they are no longer useful. Go and let me do my job.”

                A moment later Meliday dropped a few small orbs from a pouch on her belt. They clattered across the floor towards the opening to the corridor beyond. As shadows and torchlight rose, signifying reinforcements on the way, the little orbs exploded, filling the cavern below with thick smoke that was impossible to see through.

                The last Natasha saw of the brave little Elin was as the smoke began to coil around her boots, her shuriken in her hands as she waited for the horde of cultists to charge into the room. And then smoke obscured Meliday from view.

                A moment later the screaming started.

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

                Hours later, Meliday made her way through the forest, her mask now hanging from her belt, and a bloody welt on her face from where it had barely absorbed a blow. She was covered in sweat and gore, but aside from a small wound on her arm, none of it was hers. She’d lingered long enough to see the prisoners reach a Federation outpost before withdrawing.

                She’d find a stream to wash off in, forage for some food in the forest, and then be on her way. There was little reason to stay, she’d done her job and there would be many more jobs in the future. It was her way, what the Goddess had made her to do. She knew that now, and maybe she’d always known it. The past was the past, and even if it hurt, it was good to know that one was fulfilling one’s purpose in the world.

                With a grin, Meliday disappeared into the forest, more agile and quiet than even a real bunny would have been, neither a predator nor prey, but instead a fang of her Goddess.

Interfering with Fate

*Plaguelands, several days ago beneath the ruins of a village of Lordaeron.*

It was dark within the ruins, the light of day penetrating no further than the dust covered stairs leading down into the depths. Beyond the stairs, what seemed to be miles of corridors stretched out beneath a seemingly innocent looking ruined library within a long abandoned human settlement. The plaguelands were full of such ruins, and this one would have been no different, if not for the scent of magic within it.

Magic is what drew the Legion. Magic is what caused the felhunters to pause near the ruined library, their demonic snouts pressed to the ground as they detected the faint hint of it deep beneath the surface. And so the little raiding party had paused in its movements, spending some time to root out the source of the power to destroy it or claim it in the Legion's glory to further the destruction of the pathetic world of Azeroth.

Only it had not been that easy. First the secret passage had to be located, and then, to the surprise of all of the demonic forces present, extremely powerful wards had to be removed and the entryway had to be excavated. Faarhi, the Eredar leading the raiding party, tapped one of her hooves impatiently as she waited to hear news from the advanced party she had sent down into the depths below. They had been using human slaves captured from the nearby countryside to do most of the work and to clear the wards, and the group she'd sent down had been made up of mostly slaves and a few felguards to keep them in line as they cleared the way.

Faarhi paused her restless tapping, her red and black robes shifting as an ear-splitting scream echoed up from the chambers below. She rolled her fel-fire eyes, looking around at the interior of the library itself which was already littered with numerous dead humans that had fallen victim to the magical wards on the place. And now, judging by the sounds, the rest of her slaves had likely met similar fates. What could be so important beneath the earth that such powerful magics were used to defend it?

Whatever it was, it would belong to the Legion, and Faarhi would be the one to claim it. With a sigh she began her descent down into the depths, her hooves making loud noises on the ancient stones as darkness closed in around her. She whispered a word of magic, a ball of felfire hovering in the air near her shoulder to illuminate the path ahead.

Although the tunnel system truly was a labyrinth, it appeared that her advanced party had only chosen one tunnel to travel down. Side passages loomed in the darkness, but many were blocked with fallen debris while the path forward was cleared. Cautiously she moved, occasionally stepping over the body of a fallen human who had become victim to one of the many concealed wards in the passageway. She sensed no magic in the tunnel itself, meaning her slaves had done their work and died for the Legion, clearing the magical defenses for her.

The tunnel was not overly long, and soon ended in a doorway that lead to a circular chamber beyond. The door itself had many fallen bodies around it, several of them being her felguards. She approached more cautiously, stepping over them gingerly and peering into the room.

There was not much to say of the interior. It was a small, circular chamber cut into the ground and lined with stone. Much of the floor space was littered with treasure; golden coins spilled haphazardly and mixed with priceless gems and a spattering of magical items. It was not these that drew her eye though as she stepped over the bodies of two more fallen human slaves, instead it was the dais in the center of the room. The stone column was waist-high and Light glowed from its top, surrounding a dark book with a deep purple gem set in its cover. It was here that the magic was strongest, it was this that had attracted her felhunters from above the ground.

Faarhi smirked, moving further into the chamber. Light! It was always Light that the pitiful humans of this world clung to. Even though it would never save them from the Legion's might. Any relic they protected with Light was important, was something to be corrupted or destroyed to weaken them, and here was one before her, unguarded now and defenseless. With a casual gesture, Faarhi brought a hand up over the glowing, holy wards around the book and spoke a word of darkness, snuffing the Light out forevermore.

In the darkness, something sighed as if pent up energies stored for an extended period of time had finally been released. The temperature in the room plunged in seconds, and Faarhi looked around the chamber cautiously, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. There was a gust of wind that ruffled her skirts, as if air had rushed in from some outside source, enhancing the chill that she felt.

Carefully, still looking for hidden wards or other traps, Faarhi leaned forward and opened the book on the dais to see what it contained and to judge how she might make use of it. To her surprise, the pages within were blank, and she flipped past page after page finding only empty nothing within. That changed a moment later when words began to form on one of the blank pages, and Faarhi's eyes widened as she read the story that appeared.

Once upon a time there was an Eredar too foolish for her own good. She delved into places she did not belong, and meddled with powers she did not understand. In the end, her thirst for power doomed her.

Faarhi quickly retreated from the dais, looking around the room in a panic. Clearly she had triggered some trap or something dangerous, although it was not clear what. Her confusion was answered a moment later as disembodied laughter filled the room, echoing here and there within the hollow chamber.

"Who's there? Who dares to defy the Legion?!" Faarhi shouted at nothing.

A sultry, feminine voice replied from seemingly beneath the ground, the sound horrifying, "You come into my sanctum and dare to question me? Do you have any idea of what you've done? Any idea of the torture you have just freed me from? I should repay you by allowing you to live, but I don't quite like your tone..."

"I am from the planet Argus and am amongst the most powerful races within the Legion!" Faarhi replied in anger. "How dare you presume to talk to me in such a manner? Whatever power you come from, whatever fuels you, I will have it for my own. Now show yourself!"

"As you wish...Eredar," the voice replied. Flames flared to life all around the room, dozens of candles igniting as magic poured into the hollow space. Wind rushed past Faarhi, ruffling her robes again and seemingly howling around one of the dead slaves laying on the floor near the entrance. The deceased woman was laying on her stomach, her sightless eyes staring at nothing from beneath a mound of red hair. To Faarhi's everlasting horror, a blue glow began to shine from those dead, staring eyes and the corpse began to twitch. It snapped and popped, as if its joints were not working properly.

Faarhi turned to stare down the dead woman as she rose from her place on the floor stiffly, her neck bent at an odd angle as the glow in her eyes intensified to an ice blue. With another pop her head tilted in the correct orientation, those blue orbs now affixed on Faarhi. The voice that came from her mouth was mortal now, although it had a tinge of the otherworldly echo heard earlier, "Satisfied now, Eredar?"

Faarhi smirked, shaking her head, "A ghost or wraith! I am not afraid of you. Once you are destroyed I will take your precious book with me to be examined by our necromancers, and you will be summoned again to serve the Legion. Now die again little thing."

With that she flicked her wrist, a ball of felfire hurtling towards the dead woman as easily as one might casually toss a stone. A moment later the ball of magic slammed into invisible wards, the flames exploding around the dead woman and never touching her, scorching the floor all around her.

As Faarhi looked on with shock, the woman smirked, her eyes glowing more brightly now and the red of her hair seeming to become brighter as if the spirit within was growing stronger and more accustomed to its shell. Her voice was tainted with malice as she spoke, "Your education in such matters is....severely deficient. Sadly you will not live to report back to the Legion about this or anything else my dear Eredar. I have need of your power."

The woman lurched forward suddenly, and to Faarhi's horror her hands came up and icy cold magic flared at her fingertips, slamming into the Eredar and throwing her backwards. She hit the dais hard,tumbling over it and falling with it on the hard floor behind her. She brought up her own magic to shield herself, only to feel the spell be shredded by the unexpectedly powerful enemy she faced. In a panic she brought her hands up again, and an icy cold spell slashed into her, severing many of her fingers. She screamed in pain as a shadow loomed over her.

The woman stood there, her dead, cold eyes staring down at her. There was no question in Faarhi's mind that it was not the spirit of the slave she'd sent down to her death. No, something else was in the woman, smirking at her behind those eyes. Something so filled with malice that it would have put many demons to shame. With a shaking voice Faarhi managed to get a few choked words out, "W-what...are you? Who are you....?"

The woman smiled as that cold, deadly magic flared up on her fingertips again as she brought her hands up. Her response was the last thing Faarhi the Eredar would hear as magic slashed into her face and throat, the sound like a ringing peel of damnation, "I am Selun'athiel Dayfire, born of House Dawnsea in Quel'Thalas. But you...you can call me Mistress Seluna as you serve me in undeath."

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

Hours later a lone figure walked down one of the empty roads in the plaguelands, a pack on her back jingling with the sound of coin, and a book tucked neatly into a pouch on her belt. The red-haired woman paused, surveying the road ahead and the distant sight of the ruins of the Scarlet Enclave beyond. It was there she would find her first contacts amongst the Ebon Blade. There she would begin her path forward and find those she sought.

And then? Then, everyone who had ever sheltered Biara Dayfire would pay.

Freedom and Fel Embers

*Dalaran, present day*

Mirithel quickened her pace, her boots loud on the cobblestones of the magical city of Dalaran. She passed a number of shops, her fel green gaze straying to them only for a moment as she continued along her way. Her senses tingled, her heart beating a little faster as she continued to feel like someone was following her. It had started a few blocks back and the feeling had not abated, so she hurried along her way. While the city should be safe, there were always enemies about somewhere.

As she passed between two shops, her luck ran out. A hand grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her into a small alley between the buildings. She was pushed hard against one of the stone walls, air escaping her lungs as a meaty hand wrapped around her throat and held her there by her neck. She gasped, her hands coming up to the arm holding her, little fel embers already dancing on her fingertips.

"Fel magic in Dalaran? I don't think I'd do that if I were you, whore. You'll end up in an even worse position than you are now," a deep voice rumbled in Thalassian. The owner of the voice, a human man whose primary attribute was being large, glared at her from beneath a hood that partially shadowed his face. He wore a motley array of leather armor that had seen better days, and a number of knives rode at his belt.

Despite the hood, Mirithel's eyes widened in recognition of the human that was now man-handling her, her voice coming out in a choked gasp, "Tassen..."

He grinned, his hand squeezing a little and cutting off her air, "Oh, so you do remember me, do you? I'm surprised, given what I've heard of you after our parting. Of how you've stepped on everyone you could to become...this. I see you still dress like his whore though. At least you don't lie about what you are." He spit on the ground after the last part, as if to emphasize the point.

Mirithel's heart raced in her chest, her eyes locked on the sleet gray orbs of the human that held her. She tried to squirm in his grasp, but all that earned her was another choking squeeze and the feel of his hard body pressing her into the stones, "Y-you can't hold on to it forever..."

He snarled in her face, bringing his own inches from her, his fetid breath surrounding her as he leaned closer, "Only until you die. Although you've been dead on the inside for a decade or more so it's just waiting for the outside to go...or helping it along..."

She could tell he was serious. The rage and pain in his hollow stare was enough to telegraph what would happen. He'd choke her or knife her and leave her for dead in this alley, thinking it would kill the memories that haunted him likely day and night, haunted them both. She tried to say something, anything, to convince him otherwise. Her mouth opened, but every conniving, seductive, or even plaintive thing she could think of to say died on her tongue as she knew they would fall on deaf ears.

A moment later her surprise increased as a hand grabbed Tassen's shoulder, a second grabbing him by the back of the head. Before Mirithel could even process what was going on, Tassen was slammed face-first into the stone wall beside her, grunting before his attacker pulled him back and slammed him again. He was then whirled around and shoved out of the alley, his footsteps wobbly as he regained his balance from the surprise attack.

Before Mirithel stood another blood elf, his back to her as he stared Tassen down. For his part, the human merely sneered, spitting in the street and wiping some blood from his nose before growling at her, "You can't hide from it forever, whore. There will be a time when you won't have some charmed fool to defend you, and then you're mine."

With that he was gone, leaving Mirithel shaking with fear, her heart still pounding as her rescuer turned and looked at her, his voice calm, "Are you alright? How did that human know how to speak Thalassian?"

It took a moment for Mirithel to calm enough to register that she'd heard the voice before, her eyes wide as she replied, "You...you're that elf from the bar the other day..."

"Andithiel, yes," he replied with a smile. "I've been looking for you everywhere. An innkeeper in Silvermoon said you often traveled between there and here, so I came here to look for you in the taverns. You can call me Andi."

For a moment, Mirithel's mouth opened and closed without words as she processed everything that had just happened. A moment later she frowned, practically shoving him out of the way as she stormed into the street beyond. "You should not have searched for me. I'm not someone you want to be looking for."

She could feel him falling into step beside her, his longer stride outpacing her even as she walked furiously down the street. His voice was somewhat surprised, but calm when he replied, "Well, I guess a 'thank you' is not coming, but that's alright. I still want to talk to you."

She stopped abruptly, whirling on one boot, the fabric of her rather revealing outfit shifting in place as she jabbed a manicured finger into his chest, "A 'thank you'?! You don't even know me. Don't even know what you walked into. Do you think you're the hero, saving a damsel? Do you think I couldn't have protected myself, if I'd wanted to? Did you ever stop to think that maybe you saved the villain of the story?"

He blinked in surprise at the fury she leveled at him. Despite her raging anger, she was still beautiful, and he paused for a moment to admire the way her hair messily fell around that face. The way those pert lips spat fury at him with every breath. He blinked, realizing she had fallen silent, as if expecting him to answer her impossible tirade. He shrugged, his reply nearly making her eyes bug out of her head, "I want you to teach me. Your magic I mean. I want to learn how to be a warlock."

"You...you want me....to... what?!" Mirithel replied, her surprise so complete that Andithiel actually chuckled.

"I want you to teach me your magic. I gave a lot of thought to what you said, about being free, about finding my own path. I want to learn what you know," he replied in that same calm tone.

"No one asks to become a warlock. That's....that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Mirithel said, looking utterly confused. "Warlocks are people who grasp for power, who grind each other to dust to become ever stronger. Either that, or people so desperate they reach for whatever they can to survive, to..." her voice trailed off, her eyes alight with whatever thoughts crossed her mind.

"Miri, listen," Andithiel began. "For years, I've sat on the sidelines as my two sisters fought for our family, our house. Sure, I've helped out with my bow, and lead rangers in my time, but it was always magic assaulting us, destroying us both from without and within. Even now, magical plots surround us and I'm not strong enough to protect them, to help. I want to walk my own path. I want to learn how to address the problems that I know exist in my own way. I can't do that without learning magic, and I can't rely on what my sisters know because it's not enough. We've suffered too much. I need to do this both for my family, and to be free of my family if that makes sense. To be able to make decisions that are too hard for anyone else to make."

For a long moment, Mirithel said nothing, merely studying the elf before her. No longer in combat leathers, he wore a rather plain doublet and pants. He could have blended in anywhere really, and there was no hint that he came from a noble house or that he had the capabilities he was claiming. And yet he'd driven off Tassen, and now had the boldness to ask a warlock, to ask her of all people, to train him. Her voice was low when she replied, the rage having simmered down, "No one can be that altruistic with this power. It will take a hold on you. It may damn you. Are you willing to take that risk for your family?"

His nod was sincere as was the tone in his voice, "Of course I am. I'm not afraid, but I want to walk a new path. I don't know any warlocks who I trust to teach me. I don't technically even know you, but you seem to be wise enough to remain free from influences that I've seen other people fall to easily. If you weren't, you'd be some lapdog in one of the houses by now, not walking the streets, wearing whatever you'd like and doing whatever you'd like. I immediately envied that when I met you."

She smirked at him, her tone more amused and seductive, "Envied me, or really enjoyed what I was wearing?"

"Would having a ravishing beauty for a teacher be a bad thing really?" he grinned back.

A smile passed over her features for the first time since the encounter began, light chasing darkness away, "Flattery gets you everywhere. I will agree to teach you, but only you can decide how far you are willing to go with it. It will be dangerous, and missteps can cost you more than you can imagine. If you're willing to face that, meet me in Filthy Animal tomorrow evening, and I will show you the trials you face walking this path."

He nodded at her, returning the smile, "Tomorrow it is then. I promise you I will not disappoint you...er...do I have to call you a title or anything as my instructor?"

She laughed at this, shaking her head, "I'm no noble snot for you to fawn over. Call me Miri or don't talk to me at all. I will see you tomorrow. Bring an open mind and a willingness to overcome challenges and you will go far."

He nodded again, "Alright, Miri, I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he turned, striding casually away from her and down the street. As if he had not just made a pact with a devil. As if he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down in the space of five minutes.

She watched him, staring down that street long after he was gone. Watched him walk free for what was likely the first time in his life, and a smile made its way onto her lips. Regardless of what Tassen thought, she was in the business of freeing people. She couldn't set the past to rights, but the future was hers and she would let no one stand in her way. With that last thought in mind she turned, striding towards the nearest magic shop; she had supplies to purchase now for her new pupil.

Terrible Influences

*Silvermoon City, early evening*

Andithiel was beyond pissed off. Raging probably was the correct word to use as he stalked through the streets of Silvermoon and then took a quick left into the darkened opening of a building along Murder Row. Gauzy silken curtains parted to allow him entry into one of the seediest taverns in the city, the place filled with an array of shady looking characters that fit his mood just perfectly. Still wearing his practice armor, the tight leather vest and studded leather pants that hugged his muscular form let him blend in well with the patrons.

How dare she? How dare she send her little minions to issue orders to any member of his household? 

It was bad enough that they had remained allied with Kyliska and her sister for all these months. After all, they'd built them a light-damned spire in repayment for their assistance in battle at former House Felo'melorn's garrison on Draenor. How much longer did they need to repay that debt and curry favor with the unpredictable sisters and scrape and bow as if the two were of any benefit to Andithiel, his sisters, or the city in general?

And now this. In the middle of practice he'd received a missive from Braeth'el ordering him to assign spots to several new rangers and to ensure proper equipment was provided. Andithiel had had enough of Kyliska's latest bed-warmer, and to think of the arrogance of ordering him to take time and effort for her personal soldiers was the last straw.

He'd brought it up with his sisters several times over the past month, but to no avail. Selenthiel, ever the diplomat, had urged patience and expressed sympathy over his frustrations. Tyavel had merely huffed as if his irritations were less important than whatever plans she kept shuttered behind her fel green eyes. He loved his sisters dearly, but he couldn't understand why they didn't see how bad this continued alliance was for their family. Especially with Biara's 'mysterious' disappearance that was, to him, no mystery and another political implosion waiting to happen. He slid into a seat at the bar, practically barking at the bartender for some hard liquor. As an entire bottle was placed in front of him, he felt a pair of eyes on him, and glanced to his left.

She was beautiful. No, that word wasn't even enough, stunning maybe. Fel green eyes studied him from a distance, artfully styled strawberry hair framing her heart shaped face, with the light of the tavern striking her just so, as if she'd planned it. A long cigarette rested between her fingers, acrid smoke rising around her in a stream that left her seemingly shrouded in mystery, the scent clearly laced with bloodthistle. And her outfit... well, to say that Selenthiel would be horrified was putting it mildly. It the purple and blue material glittered with fel green runes, the sheer fabric tight and not nearly present in enough quantity to conceal soft curves and delightfully tanned flesh. And atop her head rested what he first mistook for a demon hunter's horns, only to realize a second later that it was in fact a tiara made of shorn off demonic horns resting atop that mass of hair like a crown.

She met his gaze, blood red lips parting in a smile as she glanced at the bottle, "Having a rough day?" Her voice was like a purr, and Andithiel was not foolish or inexperienced enough to know that everything, from her voice to her appearance to the way she crossed her legs towards him while talking, was all planned and calculated carefully.

He grunted at her, taking a drink directly from the bottle, "A frustrating one, if it's any of your business that is."

Her smile widened, the look almost predatory as she replied, "Sometimes frustrations can be cured more easily than one might first imagine."

He glanced over at her, a brow raised. Was she trying to seduce him after he'd just told her how annoyed he was? Despite himself, his gaze swept over her rather deliciously revealed body before returning to her eyes. For a moment there was amusement there, as if she knew everything he was thinking. He coughed and then gruffly replied, "I don't need your advice or help."

She shrugged, taking a long pull on her cigarette, the smoke trailing from her mouth in a sensuous, snaking trail as she replied, her eyes traveling over him now before meeting his gaze again, "You don't look like someone who needs 'help' or anything else. You look capable enough to handle your frustrations directly. But, your hands are tied, aren't they?"

He studied her for a moment; it was clear she was a deadly little thing with a razor sharp mind. The fel runes dancing on the fabric of her dress made him shudder, recalling every one of Tyavel's lectures about such things. And yet, for a brief moment he imagined that little slip of fabric on the floor of an inn room. Sighing, he took another sip of his drink and grudgingly nodded, "Yes, I would say that is accurate. I'm sure you wouldn't understand."

She shook her head, her hands spread wide in gesture, "But I do. This place, this city, it is like a prison at times. The rules, the politics, the expectations. My hands were once tied too, once bound to duties and service that would have ground me to dust. I know exactly what you are experiencing. Do you want to know what to do about it?"

He looked back at her, staring into that gaze and seeing the wheels turning deep within. She knew how to manipulate, how to play the games, and yet it was clear she was no noble, no one with a title or looking for a title. No one who had to negotiate or stay in bloody deals that brought nothing but irritation. His answer expressed it all in so few words, "And what is that?"

She smiled again, nodding at him, "You do precisely what you want to do. This city, these people, they are only a prison if you allow them to jail you, to hold you back. While I love our people, I realized long ago that it was far more important to love myself first and foremost. To put my needs first. Station, political power, all of that is temporary when you hold the power within yourself to grant your own desires."

He stared at her, considering her words, his next question partially fueled by the alcohol and partly by his frustration with everything that had happened the past few months with his family, with his station in life, "And what is it that you desire?"

Her smile melted into a smirk that some men would have died on their own swords for, her eyes trailing over the exposed muscles of his arm, "Why, everything of course. But I settle for my freedom first and foremost."

Freedom. That illusion that haunted him. His duties to his family, to his house, to his men, and unfortunately to Kyliska and her house bound him, restrained him. When was the last time he ran through the forest and hunted for the fun of it? Between fighting the Legion's forces, worrying over his men, their training and equipment, it was a never ending struggle. When had he last been free?

He nodded at her, at the wild thoughts she inspired in him to simply run away and abandon it all and be done with it, "That sounds like a wonderful dream for those who don't have responsibilities."

She laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell within the darkness of the shady tavern, "Responsibilities can only weigh you down if you let them. You should give yourself that freedom, even if only now and then. Take what you want."

He grimaced and nodded, grateful that she hadn't done something aggressive like lean forward and expose her cleavage. Instead she had sat back, and was just considering him for a time. When she spoke again, it was in a low tone, and with less playfulness, "You will never find what truly sets you free living in chains of your own making, or in the bottom of that bottle. Think about it for a time. What do you really want? It can be yours, the freedom can be yours, if you dare to reach for it. Maybe not today, maybe today you need that bottle, and perhaps one of my cigarettes, but the morning will come and you will need to decide if you want to get up and go back to your prison cell, or walk out of the door and into whatever you desire."

He took another long drink from the bottle before nodding at her, her words making a bit of sense to his surprise, "I will think on it. Maybe it is time that a change was made. Maybe there's a way, who knows. But...thank you. I didn't expect to talk to anyone this evening."

She smiled, shifting and rising slowly, her steps cat like as she came nearer and leaned over him. The scent of her perfume and that tinge of bloodthistle filled the air around him, almost enough to make his head spin when combined with the alcohol. She leaned forward, her breath a whisper against his ear and making his skin heat, "Well, that is what friends are for, isn't it? My name is Mirithel Embersky. Should you need help winning your freedom, come and find me. I hate to see such a strong soldier of Silvermoon struggling in bonds he could so easily snap with his power. In the meantime, let the bottle remind you of those prison walls. Think on it."

Her hand ran up his arm, making his blood heat further, and then she had slipped around him, heading for the door, the swaying of her hips setting the delicate cloth she wore to revealing her upper thighs with each movement. He watched her until she was gone, and then turned back to his bottle, shaking his head. Before him sat her ashtray and the long bloodthistle cigarette, still trailing smoke up from its lit end.

Maybe it is time I talk to my sisters about the threat Kyliska poses to the stability of our house. Maybe it's time I make them listen, and if they won't listen, then maybe it's time I get away from this. I'm sick to death of watching her destroy our family as she and her sister take theirs down. There is more to life than this.

He glanced back at the empty door where the other Sin'dorei had left, smirking as he picked up her cigarette and took a long pull from it. He could taste her lipstick on it, a citrous flavor that mingled with the alcohol and the bloodthistle to relax him for a time.

Tomorrow. Things would change tomorrow. He was sick to death of Kyliska and her family's plots and schemes. He would take his freedom, as Mirithel had suggested.

One way or another. 

Besties

Melsana carefully sighted down the length of the long metal barrel, the strange rifle in her hands held firm and steady. Within it, powerful arcane forces built up, the magic rising to a point where it would emit forth from the front of the rifle in a burst of energy akin to a physical projectile. With a whumph of sound the magic sprang forth, traveling across the courtyard to slam into the practice dummy with a satisfying blast.

The Huntress grinned, studying the weapon in her hand and inspecting it for signs of damage from the magic. The goblin that had sold it to her had not intended for it to be used this way, but she'd spent several days modifying it with enchantments to her exact specifications. While she could use a bow, it had been so long since the Huntress had actually hunted with one that she preferred to try new methods. Besides, it would be awkward if she were to practice with one and fail to compare to the other rangers, and new times demanded new methods.

"That works pretty well," Braeth'el said as he observed Melsana's practice. Beside him one of the ranger captains nodded, the red-haired Sin'dorei having been shouting commands at her all morning as he assessed her prowess. Other rangers worked at their own target dummies around the courtyard, each using various ranged weapons for this day's routine. The estate grounds were filled with the sounds of taut bowstrings and the snap of arrows in the air, punctuated now and then by Melsana's unique weapon.

As she prepared to take another shot, silence descended on the courtyard. She turned, lowering her weapon and brushing an errant strand of pure gold hair from her face as she observed the source of the disquiet that had descended.

The curtains to the open doors behind them had parted and a blonde haired elf had stumbled out, the woman looking rather belligerent as she stalked across the courtyard, the look on her face one of death. Clutched in one fist she had a mostly empty bottle of wine, which she brought to her lips and finished off directly from the bottle before hurling the object across the courtyard, watching it shatter against one of the stone walls surrounding the area.

Her summer dress ruffling in the light breeze, she marched the rest of the way to that same wall, hoisting herself up before sitting on it and looking out at the forest beyond sullenly, clearly sulking. As Melsana studied her, quiet whispers arose around her from the other rangers until the bark of several trainers got them focused once more on their work.

Melsana frowned, casting a glance at Braeth'el and completely ignoring her own trainer as she spoke loud enough to be heard, "Who's that?"

"That would be the Lady of this house, Kyliska Sunblade," Braeth'el said, looking over at Kyli with concern in his eyes.

"And what's her problem?" Melsana asked, her tone causing Braeth'el to turn his head back towards the Huntress.

"She...had a falling out with a good friend. Most days she is fine, but sometimes she gets sullen like this and spends the day in her cups. I've tried to help her through it but...well, the pain is still fresh and there is little for her to do to fix things," Braeth'el said quietly.

Melsana considered this, her striking green eyes traveling to where Kyliska perched on the wall. When she responded, her voice was loud enough to carry across the clearing, "Well, if she wants to sit and sulk like a coward maybe she should do it somewhere that real soldiers can't see her doing it. We have work to do and if she's going to be a prissy baby over a fight with a friend then she should do it inside, pampered by the servants."

Braeth'el's mouth gaped open and a deadly silence fell across the courtyard as everyone heard the words. On the wall, Kyliska's head turned slowly, her eyes narrowed in rage. It was as if Melsana had known exactly what to say to draw Kyliska's attention back to the real world. In the silence, everyone heard Kyliska as she hopped down from the wall, her fists clenched as she stormed across the courtyard, her face inches from Melsana's.

"What did you just say?"

Melsana stared her down, her look unimpressed, "You heard me."

Kyliska got even closer, her chest nearly touching Melsana's, her alcohol laced breath wafting over the other elf, "I will break you in half if you dare say another word."

A smirk passed across Melsana's face, as if she had seen this all a thousand times before and knew where it was heading, relished it even, "You could try..."

Kyliska's fist was swinging before Melsana finished speaking, the blow connecting with Melsana's left eye and rocking her head back. The Huntress burst into motion, her own fist coming up and giving Kyliska a hit to her upper body, rocking her sideways.

Kyliska growled in rage, throwing another punch which Melsana dodged, the Huntress stamping down on Kyliska's sandal and making her grunt as she ground her heel into the other's bare skin. She followed it up with a punch to the face that Kyliska managed to jerk back from enough that it only split her lip. Retaliating quickly, Kyliska's knee came up, slamming into Melsana's nethers and causing her to double over in pain, a few more punches to her chest rocking the Huntress.

Melsana grinned, wiping blood from her eye, her voice a purr, "Now that is how a warrior acts when they are down. But let's see what else you've got..."

Kyliska merely growled before hurling herself at Melsana, punching the other elf repeatedly in the face as they traded blows, both of them becoming more and more bloody.

Around the courtyard, no one dared move or interfere; no one had spoken to Kyliska like that while she'd been in one of her moods, and no one but Braeth'el had practiced with her. Everyone had been afraid to say anything, to do anything to upset the fragile balance of their Lady's emotions. Except this new hire, who they watched with awe as she and the Lady of the house beat each other to bloody pulps.

A lucky blow to Melsana's gut had her doubled over again and a second later, Kyliska pounced, slamming into Melsana and bowling her over. The two fell to the ground with an 'oof' of air escaping them, rolling and punching each other. In his shock, Braeth'el had not thought to step back, and the two fist-fighting elves quickly tumbled in his direction before he had time to think, their weight slamming into his legs and sending him cartwheeling sideways. He tumbled over them, tripping and then falling on his back, the sound of him hitting the pavement and the gush of surprised air escaping them punctuating even the sound of the fight. The two elves paused for a moment, their eyes wide as they realized what they were doing.

"I knocked my boss over," Melsana drawled from beneath Kyliska, the other elf's hands around her throat. "That's totally going to come out of my paycheck."

For a moment Kyliska said nothing, just staring down at the elf beneath her. The audacity of the woman like a splash of water to her face. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smirk spread across her face and in a low voice she replied, "Well, he's the Master at Arms, not legs apparently..."

A smile met a smile, two pairs of green eyes locked on each other for another moment before both burst out laughing, everyone else staring in stunned silence. From the ground, Braeth'el sat up, rolling his eyes, "I'm glad you find this amusing..."

Kyliska rose, standing over Melsana and offering her a hand up, her eyes straying to Braeth'el, "What is this bitch's name?"

Melsana took the offered hand, rising beside Kyliska, her voice full of amusement, "Melsana Featherwind, at your service. Good thing too, because you hit like a human girl."

Kyliska grinned, her face a mask of blood, Melsana's not much better, "Fortunately your face gives me a lot of places to practice. The question now is, how do you stave off the pain of battle?"

"Not by drinking that fancy crap you just had. Ale maybe though," Melsana purred back. "And then we could talk about who you really want to hit, and get started on doing it in a productive way, hmmm?"

Kyliska laughed again, linking arms with the Huntress, her eyes gleaming for the first time in many months as she lead her towards the open door, her voice trailing back over the dumbstruck elves they left behind, "You know, I'm already starting to like you. You know me so well. Ale it is!"

And with that they were gone, Braeth'el picking himself up and shooting Melsana's trainer a look that basically told him to never speak a word of this to anyone, ever, if he wanted to live, before he followed them inside with a long suffering sigh.

Finding Good Help These Days

Sunlight sparkled off the flashing blade as it descended towards Braeth'el's head. With a deft move his dagger came up, deflecting the blow away from him. The sword's path stopped abruptly, it's wielder sliding it back around to his right in a vicious counter-attack that forced him to dodge, the sound of his second dagger's hilt parrying the blow ringing through the courtyard.

In front of him, Kyliska panted, her blade coming up again and her own feet sliding backwards as she avoided a vicious slash to her belly. She growled and charged forward again, her blade coming down and the double ring of two daggers crossing its path to stop it singing across the marble paving stones of Dayfire Estate's practice yard. Kyliska laughed, the sound low and vicious as she pressed on Braeth'el's daggers, forcing him to put extra effort in keeping the blade from his head. Muscles bulged in his arms as he forced her blade up, her body slamming into his as their weapons went up over their head.

Pressed face to face, he grinned at her and she leaned forward, kissing him for a lingering moment, the mixture of violence and passion making her blood sing, their weapons hanging over their heads. After a time he released the pressure on her sword and she took it in one hand, letting it drop beside her as they kissed again, one of his arms snaking around her waist as he sheathed his daggers.

"That was fun," Braeth'el breathed into her ear. "We should practice indoors next time..."

Kyliska nearly purred, her smirking lips parting to say something truly outrageous when a polite cough from the open curtained door leading into the estate caught her attention. She turned to see one of the servants there, the poor Sin'dorei looking extremely uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, observing the lady of the house in her training leathers and Braeth'el in his cut tank top and leathers embracing.

"Yes? What is it? We're really very busy right now," Kyliska nearly growled.

"T-there's a visitor, Lady Sunblade. Er.. for Master Braeth'el. He's needed for a short time only, I'm sure," the servant stuttered.

Braeth'el nodded at the elf, giving him a wink while expertly giving Kyliska a pinch on her bottom that made her squeak and then bite her lip. "Of course. Bring them to my office if you would. I'll be there in a moment."

Reluctantly he released Kyliska, picking up a towel and rubbing it over his face and neck to remove the sweat the practice had worked up. If a visitor wanted to show up unexpectedly, he was hardly going to dress to impress. He nodded at Kyliska as he headed for the door, "I'll see you later."

Kyliska grinned and nodded herself before turning back towards the practice yard and heading for a training dummy to work off her excess energy.

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

Braeth'el's office was simple yet elegant enough to be impressive by Sin'dorei standards. The hardwood desk had neat stacks of paper, and filing cabinets made of fine oak stood to the right of the desk. Behind it was an armoire, the top of the piece of furniture open to display a collection of elegant wine bottles. The office itself was carpeted in a deep red that matched the lighter red and gold motif of the walls and door, and sunlight streamed in from the closed window overlooking the woods.

Braeth'el was seated behind his desk in the high-backed chair there when the door opened and the servant reappeared. Behind him walked a golden haired beauty of a Sin'dorei that he'd never seen before. The servant gave him a bow once, his voice more solid now as he announced the guest, "Dame Melsana Featherwind to see you, Master Braeth'el."

Braeth'el waved the servant away, nodding his thanks; he always hated the use of titles but sometimes it was necessary when guests were around and some of the servants wouldn't stop even when they weren't. Master at Arms indeed.

The golden-haired Sin'dorei stepped into the office as the door closed behind her and Braeth'el studied her for a moment. Dressed head to toe in gold and red mail armor that looked like it had been poured over her body while molten, it left little to the imagination. Where Kyliska was athletic and toned, this elf was lithe and wiry although she curved in the same places as his lover. He could sense a restrained agility and grace in her movements that would rival many of his rangers. The only thing that marred her beauty was a vicious looking scar beneath her right eye, the flesh there a faded pink color from whatever had made the wound.

She gave him an unreadable look before she shifted in place, removing a sack that had been slung over one shoulder and dumping it on Braeth'el's desk. He noted that she was armed to the teeth with golden daggers, a red and gold spear, and some collapsible traps strapped to her red and gold belt.

He shifted in place, reaching out to take the sack's drawstrings, his voice a rumble, "What is this then?" His question was answered a moment later when severed demon heads tumbled out and onto his desk. He could see other heads in the recess of the bags; likely demonic felhunters. He looked back up at the elf, a brow perched.

"Your estate is overrun with these creatures," she replied in a musical voice. "I've taken care of them, but your own rangers need to do a better job if you don't want your manor house infiltrated. They are hunting for something or someone on this property."

Something or someone on the property... Braeth'el's suspicions were aroused, but not at the huntress and not for a topic he'd care to discuss with her. He studied her for a moment before replying, "And you want compensation for these I take it?"

The elf shrugged at him as if it didn't matter, and he found himself grinning at her boldness, "I don't really care. I hunt what needs to be hunted. Coin is always nice but I can make due without."

Braeth'el nodded; he liked this huntress immediately, "And whom do you work for?"

"I work for Quel'Thalas, for Silvermoon. I'm not 'employed' by anyone if that is what you are asking. I was a Farstrider for a time," she replied.

"I see. Well, you've certainly done us a service here, and I would certainly be willing to give you some coin as bounty. Further though, we could use a ranger of your capabilities amongst our forces. If you think you'd be interested in staying for a while, at least until the reason for this incursion is resolved, I'm authorized to hire staff for the House and estate," he replied.

She tilted her head, her hair like a golden curtain shimmering in the sunlight, her eyes boring into his unflinchingly. When she replied, he nearly laughed, "One hundred gold per week, plus accommodations and access to your armory for equipment repair as needed."

Braeth'el leaned forward and grinned, "Fifty a week, plus the rest."

"Eight-five or I will return to the woods," she countered smoothly.

Braeth'el nodded, enjoying himself, "Very well, it is agreed then. There is just one more thing..." He reached under his desk and pressed a magic rune, summoning the staff. "For security reasons we need to check you over."

She stiffened and then nodded, "Fine by me."

A moment later the door to the office opened and a black haired mage entered the room. Braeth'el nodded to him and then looked at Melsana, "Melsana, meet Rayleth. He is one of our apprentices here and he will be examining you."

Braeth'el leaned back in his chair, studying the golden-haired elf for a moment. There was not even a twitch on her face, not a hint of recognition. She merely nodded, her voice flat, "A pleasure. You're here to 'check me over' as Braeth'el just indicated?"

Braeth'el grinned; she hadn't even used his title, definitely someone to keep on staff. For his part, Rayleth merely nodded and then stuttered, "Y-yes, if you don't mind m-miss. I just need you to hold still..."

She nodded again and then stood where she was, her arms at her sides. Rayleth moved around her, leaning in close to study her face, his eyes lingering on that scar as if wondering what could cause such damage. His hands waved in the air in front of her as he chanted, magic trickling out across her. Her spear, her daggers, and the traps at her belt began to glow a brilliant blue color.

"Hmm, s-she has enchanted weapons, Master Braeth'el," Rayleth said nervously.

Braeth'el waved a dismissive hand, "Of course she does, she's a Sin'dorei. You know what we're looking for."

Rayleth nodded, stepping closer to the elf, his voice apologetic, "S-sorry I need to p-place my hands on you."

"Whatever. Just get it done would you?" Melsana rasped.

Rayleth nodded again, his hands on her shoulders, his fingers running down her arms while he chanted. He then moved to her sides, hands running down her hips. He paused for a moment, hesitating, his hands moving towards her belt as if something around her navel had attracted his attention but he didn't know what to do about it.

In all his life, Braeth'el had rarely seen someone move as fast as Melsana did. Her knee came up into Rayleth's crotch so hard and fast that he almost felt it. As Rayleth fell over, Melsana's hands grasped his hair and guided his face very un-gently towards the edge of Braeth'el's desk, the crack of his face hitting the wood echoing through the room. As Rayleth crumpled to the ground, Melsana's hands slammed on Braeth'el's desk, her voice furious, "You asked me to do a job as a huntress. I'm not working at a damned brothel for you. If that's what you think, find someone else!"

Braeth'el held up a hand to calm her, smirking in amusement as one of Rayleth's hands shakily clung to the edge of the desk, the apprentice slowly pulling himself upright. His nose was bleeding and his glasses were broken. When he spoke, it was with a wheezing wince that made Braeth'el cringe in sympathy, "S-she's got...no magic I can detect on her....other than...the weapons...."

Braeth'el nodded and then offered Melsana a smile, "You've passed our test. Congratulations, you're hired. You can meet with Andithiel, our ranger captain, for your assignment and quarters. I'll have someone show you the way."

Melsana stood upright, as if considering whether or not to walk out. After a moment she nodded, her voice clipped and sarcastic, "Fine. I will see you soon then, sir."

As she turned and strolled out of the room, stepping over the still crumpled Rayleth, Braeth'el could only chuckled to himself. That one was going to be trouble for sure, but certainly useful. And amusing.