Returned

I am at home.  

What a relief it is to write those words with a clear mind.  Indeed, I am more than exhausted.  I am weary and aching down to my bones, leaning on my staff much more often than not, on the rare occasion that Krastos allows me on my feet.

I cannot fathom how it happened that I was gone for three months.

Lena leaned back in the bed with her brand new journal, the crisp pages urging her to write.  For a week now, she had been back, under the watchful eye of Shadows.  Krastos had been eager to bring her home right away, but Vitaska, one of the order's oldest and most learned healers, insisted she stay in Ironforge at least for a few days.

Vitaska had cleared me to go home with Krastos a few nights ago.  He warned me, however, to take it easy while we tried to fit together what happened.  I know I am stubborn and eager to get back to work, but even I realize what shape I am in.  

Physically, I seem to be healing at a rate that appeases Taska, or he would not have sent me home.  I do not remember the trip to Ironforge, and in fact, my memory seems very garbled from my time in the mountains.  I was apparently quite dehydrated, very malnourished, and was unconscious, when they had found me.  There was a rift that lead into the Twisting Nether.  

No one knows how long I spent within it.  

The Nether is not meant for casual play.  It is merely a means for manipulating space and time in such a way to allow beings to traverse without lengthy travel or lingering effects.  I shall have to do research on the effects of a long term exposure to the Nether.  

Indeed, opening a portal that will lead a person or group of persons or even non-sentient objects to another location should be a simple operation.  One only needs concentration and a basic understanding of the laws of physics as we know them - and a healthy does of being willing to break those laws.  It is, truly, a magical intervention that does occasionally run the risk of backfiring.  

I cannot imagine what must have happened on the peak of Neverest for me to call open a portal - let alone one that would leave a rift.

Even so, I am overjoyed that it did - or Shadows may never have found me. 

She lowered her pen between the pages, closing the journal around it and rubbed at her face.  Her cheekbones were still seeming to poke out from her face.  She was shocked when Vitaska had finally handed her a mirror.  She was gaunt, with large dark circles under her eyes.  No wonder Krastos had looked so scared when she awoke in Ironforge.

A small crash followed by a stream of uncreative profanities emanated from direction of the kitchen of their Wetlands home, catching her attention.  "Krastos?"  she called, lightly inquiring.  "Everything alright down there?"  She sank back against the multitude of pillows he had brought home to ensure her comfort, unsure if intervening would be helpful.  Lena could hear him muttering, clanging around some more, and then a much louder, "NO!  I didn't say that! NO!"  followed by another crash.

Lena sighed and chuckled to herself, shifting and trying to get comfortable.  He'd brought out the elementals to help with the housework while she was recovering.  They must be rebelling, she thought.

Just as she was preparing to curl up in the bed for yet another nap, a medium sized fire elemental glided into the room, holding a plate, piled high with food, keeping it quite warm.  She laughed, grinning up at Krastos, who followed closely behind, holding a tray to place across her lap.  "I know you probably need more sleep, but you need to eat something, too," he said gruffly.  She could see the smile in his eyes, though, knowing he was happy to have her home, safe, with him.

As he arranged her plate and tray, dismissing the elemental, she patted the bed beside her, offering a forkful of the no doubt partially edible food he'd prepared.  "And you've surely had a long day keeping those creatures in order, haven't you?"  Kras snorted and dug in to her food with his own fork, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her snug against him as they ate quietly.

Her head was drooping by the time they were finished, and he carefully extracted the tray and sharp objects from the bed, shifting so they could lay down.  She nestled in her favorite spot on his chest, and quickly dropped off while he stroked her hair.  There were still many questions to answer, but something she had said the night before had stuck with him.  "Are we supposed to feel this old?" she had queried, her voice still small and weak.  They were both nearly 25,000 years old.  It was unfathomable to most of the other races.  But the draenei still carried on, working and living at the same rate they had for millennia.    Krastos was struck with a discordant, terrible thought - that someday, their so-called eternal lives might end.  Worse than that, they might fall prey to the very aging and deterioration that other races gave in to so easily.  That she might not be able to wield the arcane, he unable to speak to the elements, neither of them able to lift a sword or staff to go to war to protect their people.

He pulled her hair up from her neck and slid a finger along the elementium collar with a sad smile.  Their time apart was a speck in their lifetime, but it was meaningful, for myriad reasons.

Twisted

Lena's mouth hung open, the Twisting Nether feeling as if it were pulling her body limb from limb and compressing it all at the same time. She struggled for breath, her heart beating sideways in her chest cavity, slicing through muscle and bone there as it continued to beat obligingly.

Something was wrong.

Usually her teleportation spells were a simple skip through the Twisting Nether, barely even a blink of an eye, but something was wrong. She was stuck.

Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she clawed at herself in jerking, spastic movements, unable to control her muscles in the same way, panic rising in the back of her throat. Her thoughts sawed at her mind, unable to travel in a straight line from one idea to the other. She groaned and ground her teeth impatiently while her brain tried to connect the dots.

The alter-time spell. She was working out the formulas for a way to give herself a way to loop time in short instances, and she spoke the incantation aloud at her campsite and then .... darkness.

No. No that wasn't it. Something else happened.

She had been on the peak of Neverest. Her pants still showed a dusting of snow when she craned her neck to look at them. Why... She let out a soundless whimper. The slithering being crawling up her leg. The box. The voices.

She had panicked. She cast the spell, not even caring about the ramifications. She just wanted to get out of the grasp of the thing that was surely going to overtake her. And just as she shimmered from view on Azeroth, she saw Krastos, saw his eyes, saw him leap toward where she had been standing, hands outstretched.

Did she? Did she see him? They really were coming for her?

And now she was in the Twisting Nether. An apt name, she managed to squeeze the thought out. She'd never been stuck for so long. The rule was that if you were able to manipulate your mind, you could still open a portal, could change the state of the Nether, could escape it. It could, legend had it, even be pleasant, based on what the conjurer would bring to mind. Clearly, she was in no state of mind to attempt conjuring pleasant moments. She couldn't even conjure a portal to get OUT of the Nether.

As she grasped desperately for that knowledge, she felt herself slipping, still being squeezed by what had taken hold of her on the mountain, still being ripped apart by the chaos of the Nether. Invisible tentacles still tightened around her legs and were working their way around her waist.

What was it that could be in both realms at once? That could exist and not exist at the same time?

Her eyes widened at the cackle both inside her mind and out. You resist. You attempt to cling to your life as if it actually matters. You'll learn.

The Old Gods.

Kelrythis II

Kelrythis lowered her sword, her eyes narrowing as she tried to regain her normal breathing.  She was dusty, dirty, sweating like a pig, her plate armor starting to chafe her ashen skin.

Removing a gauntlet, she swiped a wrist across her brow and muttered a free flowing stream of curses as she stepped over and lightly kicked her opponent, who was laying in an unceremonious pile of dinged armor on the ground.  "Get up," she growled, offering her bare hand, "I didn't even hit'cha that hard."  She shook her head, stark white ponytail swinging behind her as she looked down with scorn.

Wrapping her fingers around her sparring partner's wrist, she hauled the body upright.  After ensuring steadiness, she rapped her knuckles against the helmet, shaking her head with a snort, "You puss.  It's a good thing you're not out there in the world with moves like that.  You'd be a fel beasts's dinner in no time."

The other warrior windmilled arms, pushing Kel away and pulling off the helmet, face flushed and sweaty.  Her own pigtails bounced limply as she shook her head and glared at Kel.  "Well sor-reeeee.  Some of us weren't born with halberds in our hands," her lilting voice accused and whined.

Kel shook her head, giving the other girl another smack upside her head and retreating to pick up her gauntlet.  She was young, the girl.  Kel tucked her glove under her arm and took a long swallow of water from the wineskin in her bags.  She had a long way to go, if she were to ever lead a group of fighters into the fray.  Putting her gauntlet back on, she picked up her swords, eyes glinting as she held them properly, smiling at their perfect balance.  She had made them quite well, and was thoroughly proud of her craft.

Whirling around to the younger warrior, she adopted an attack stance, glaring and sighing impatiently as she waited for her to affix her shield, pick up her sword.  "Faster," Kel growled, lunging forward and purposely bringing her left sword down hard against the shield.  "If I wasn't looking out for your well-being, you'd be dead right now.  And then your entire party would be trampled.  You are point.  You have to be more prepared than the others."  She stepped back and lunged again, this time sweeping her right sword close to the girl's hooves, making her leap backwards, her eyes wide.  "You have to be better than that.  Fearless.  Angry."  Kel's eyes narrowed, remembering fights gone by.

The other warrior hadn't put her helmet back on and watched Kel with shining eyes.  Was that admiration that Kel detected?  She swallowed hard and shook her head, trying to shake it away.  She didn't need a complication now.  Training.  This girl needed training.

The girl's sword lowered slowly, eyeing Kel tentatively.  Gently.  Interested.  Attractive.  She really was, despite her shit fighting skills, with her hair in those long black pigtails.  Kel's hands worked hard, gripping and grinding the handles.  She set her jaw and growled again, whirling fast and throwing her right hand sword with a loud grunt, impaling a training dummy across the way.

Kelrythis stalked away, leaving her sword and bags where they were, eyes furious as she left the young warrior standing there, shield lowered, mouth agape, watching her go.  Her eyes were hurt.  Kel could feel them boring into her skull as she rounded a corner and started to sprint.

Falling

Lena ran, panting, through the forest, grinning giddily as she leaped over fallen trees, bounded through thickets, occasionally looking over her shoulder.  She had gotten a substantial lead, and was easily outpacing him by using a few well placed spells, ones that altered her space and time, putting her far ahead.  She had even looped back around, shielding herself with an invisibility spell and giggling silently as he searched for her.

For a lumbering warrior, Krastos was still rather quick on his hooves.  They had spent the day in a field, her with her books and him laying on the grass, listening to her read to him, smirking at the stories of the planet they were currently on.  They often did this, and recently it had turned flirtatious. Him tickling her cheek with a long blade of grass to distract her, somehow escalating to a full on tickling-wrestling match, until she slithered out from under him and scampered away.  He lurched to his hooves and took off after her, laughing at himself as he engaged in the game of hide-and-seek-tag.  For being non-athletic, she was still fast, light on her hooves, evasive.  He spent much of his time training, running, usually with full plate armor impeding his speed, and he still couldn't catch her, she who spent most of her time with books.  He teased her every time he caught her, poking her nose and telling her that using magic was cheating.

She would always grin, blushing a deep blue, and he would feel his heart twist as she smiled at him.  He had been watching, and she would never smile that way for anyone else.  Just him.

This was one of their longer runs, and they were in unfamiliar territory.  She continued to frequently use magics to give herself a boost of speed, but he was gaining.

He saw it before she did, the way the horizon dropped off, and he bellowed at her, "Lena!" reaching out a useless hand as her eyes widened and she skittered toward the edge of the cliff, unable to stop herself as she tumbled over with a desperate yelp.

She was gone.  He slid to a stop just before the edge, a cloud of dust rising around him as he scrabbled to the cliff and peered over, his heart in his throat.  Oh Lena... He mentally kicked himself for letting the chase game get out of hand, cursing himself for going to unexplored territory.  The dust began to clear and he looked down, wincing at the idea of finding her broken body at the bottom of the ravine.

He gaped in disbelief as he saw her standing at the bottom, a nervous grin on her face as she waved up at him, laughing wildly.  She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and shouted up at him, "Magic is good for more than just cheating!

Kras pushed himself to his hooves and searched for a way down to the ravine.  She was nuts.  How did she do that?  He trundled down a rocky, makeshift path, falling several times as he lost his footing.  At the bottom, he bounded over to her and wrapped her in a bear hug, pressing her close against his body.  He felt her smile as she burrowed her head under his chin and against his chest.  "Don't scare me like that!" His voice came out in a whispered rasp, his fingers tangling in her hair pressing her head against his chest.

She wrapped her arms tight around him, sighing and relaxing into the embrace, trembling.  She played confident, but he could tell the fall had shaken her as well.  He lifted her chin with a finger and peered at her worriedly.  His eyes landed on her lips and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her for the first time ever.

When he finally came up for air, she smiled that secret smile up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"If I'd known that's what would happen, I might've thrown myself from a cliff a long time ago."

Sway

The wind howled at the peak of Neverest.  Lena stood, arms outstretched, leaning into it, barely feeling the biting cold.  The cackles of the Sha from all over Pandaria rang in her ears, barely interrupting the constant whispers of the Old Gods from within her mind spurred from the box.  Snow drifted around her hooves as she stood, her face turned toward the bleak sun peeking through the cloud cover, eyes closed.  She took a deep breath of the thin air and straightened her spine.

Kras...oh, Krastos.  I miss you.

 

Lena!  LENA!  His gruff voice broke through, urgent and frantic.  Where ARE you?  Stay with me!  We're coming for you!  He seemed desperate to maintain the mental link.

 

She shuddered, glancing behind her, the hoofprints from when she hoisted herself onto the peak nearly gone in the shifting snow.  She wasn't done yet.  She let her mind retreat slightly, immediately feeling him in pursuit, carefully trying to pull her back.  She felt herself sway on her perch at the peak of the great mountain, and thought about slipping away.  She was so tired.  Her body moved as if not propelled by her own will.

She wasn't done.  They weren't done.

With what?

Even she wasn't sure anymore.  Waking and sleeping seemed to have no differentiation, her work was rote at this point, digging and writing, sifting through artifacts, scrolls, sorting and theorizing.  She talked to herself, out loud, sometimes shouting against the wind.  The Pandaren had finally given up on her endless quest to find ... whatever it was she was searching for.  She wandered campsites with maps in her hands, pointing at the stars and the position of the sun, occasionally stopping to scribble illegible notes in the margins or right across a mountain range.

She rarely ate, slept erratically, dreamed terrible dreams, and hallucinated the terrible beings that were haunting her.  Her hands were dry and scabbed over, bathing not being a priority, eating being even less so.  Her normally tidy and well-kept clothing and weaponry was covered in dust and grime - she frequently misplaced her tools and would resort to using her dagger and hands to dig.

Lena turned and faced from where she had come, watching the path she trekked in the snow disappear.  Weak on her hooves, she wobbled and swayed, the wind nearly toppling her.  How relieving it would be to just let go... stop trying.  She looked at her hooves again and realized she couldn't decide what to do.

The noise in her mind was just static at this point, growing louder to block out other thoughts, increasingly driving her mad.  She could barely make out words - only sinister accusations, mocking, and laughter.  Until they came together in one reverberating voice as she stood on Mount Neverest.

It is standing right behind you. Do not move. Do not breathe.

She stiffened. glancing at the perilous footing under her.  An invisible force seemed to lazily snake itself around her body.  She froze in fear.  It tightened around her, squeezing.

Krastos. Lena's mental connection scattered back to the surface.

KRASTOS!  IT IS HERE FOR ME!

Kelrythis

(Another non-Lena character sketch)

Kelrythis spat in the dirt and exhaled her cigar smoke in the waning light of the Vale of Eternal Blossoms.  The rolling plains seemed to wobble before her eyes, but that was probably just the liquor.  Forcing a yawn, she lifted a hand to her jaw, checking, as always, for broken bones or dislocations, luckily finding none.  She'd be bruised tomorrow, but, she thought, it was almost worth it.  Her plate boots were heavy when she started trudging back up the long stairway.  That temper of hers was really going to get her in trouble someday.  If it wasn't the temper, it would be... well, everything else.

Approaching the door of the Golden Lantern, she wonder what on Azeroth she was doing in Pandaria.  She had no agenda here, but Shadows had all but relocated.  Personally, she'd rather be settled into her usual barstool in the Blue Recluse.  Or maybe even spectating in the new Brawler's Pub.  She was sure she could do better than some of the 'talent' she'd seen there. She leaned against the doorjamb and let her eyes follow the paths of those milling around inside the tavern.  One thing she did like about Pandaria was the readily available supply of good beer.  Those Pandaren might be odd creatures that were a little too touchy-feely for her, but the knew their booze, and they were happy to share.

Kel took a restorative breath and dove back in, swiping a pint from a passing barmaid and taking a large gulp as she kept her eyes on the destination.  Along the far wall, a figure sat alone at a table for two, hands clasped around a pint.  Such a pretty little thing, Kel thought to herself.  She shouldn't be alone.  Her lips curled in a wicked smile as she took another gulp, draining the mug, and reached for another.

The rotund Pandaren bartender gave her a sharp, disapproving look as he wiped down the counters and sorted glasses and mugs, but didn't intervene this time.  She'd done her time, taken her time out, and now she was rightfully back in the bar.  All she had to show for her troubles was a bruised cheek.

Her eyes darted around, landing on various women, and her eyes shone.  Pandaria, at least, brought out the beautiful people.  She started making her way through the crowded space toward the lonely girl at the table, but a very intoxicated Kaldorei woman caught her arm.  Kel didn't mind the night elves - they had their moments.  Many of them could be quite attractive, if you were into that... pale... bouncy... thing they did.  But Kel's eyes were on the prize tonight - the girl at the table was a draenei, like herself.  Some might call her xenophobic, but growing up and growing old in a body like hers for all these millennia, really made her want to observe another draenei woman's figure.  See how she moved, watch her hips sway, tease her tail - even downright silly things, like play with her hair.  Kel's lip curled at the pang of femininity she expressed to herself, quickly squashing it, drowning it in another deep drink of her beer.

Mostly, she just loved watching them.  But feeling them move under her, at the touch of her fingers or her lips was also a pretty good feeling.

Shadows ranks consisted of so many women, but Kel knew better than to shit where she ate, and besides, most of them didn't really know, or want to know, about her predilections for women.  The men would leer and drool inappropriately, and the women would probably avoid her, so she didn't talk about it.  It wasn't unusual for draenei to remain single for long periods.  Who wanted to settle down for eternity when there were so many options, so many new ones every day?  Kel toasted herself at that thought and downed another beer.

Kel sauntered close to the table, attempting to swing her hips to the music the Pandaren band was playing and be casual, surreptitiously glancing at the girl, who was staring into her mug.  She didn't look sad, necessarily, just a little lost.  Uncomfortable.  There was a story there, and Kel intended to find out.  Plopping down in the chair across from her, Kel sat down her mug with a heavy hand, the girl raising her eyes, startled.

"Hell of a night, isn't it?"  Kel gave the girl a grin, baring her teeth.  Probably a little over-exuberant, she thought, as the girl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.  Sometimes, you can tell.  Sometimes, the fun part is finding out.  You never know what you might find out if you go for it.

And Kel was going for it.

Gyllandre

(While this is not Lena, this is a character sketch based on this image:  http://25.media.tumblr.com/1dc297fb8fd9bbbaa0dbbe955a255ee2/tumblr_mh32cvVGI01s49934o1_500.jpg)

Momma!  Momma, where are we going?!

Gyllandre sat up in her bed, panting slightly, eyes darting to the dark corners of her quarters.  The dream was back, and crystal clear.  She was a very young draenei child, her white skin still unmarred, toting a doll her mother had made, tripping after the tall, lanky woman on the tips of her hooves.  Reaching for her.  Catching her tail between her tiny fingers and trying to get the woman's attention.  Her mother smiled serenely down at her daughter and continued her smooth, silent stride while her child ran to keep up.  Her mother was dressed in a flowing tunic over tight cloth leggings, her ashen skin smooth and unbroken where she showed it off along her shoulders and chest.  Her horns were long, gracefully curved, offset by the ridges along her forehead and solemn, peaceful expression that she wore.  Gyllandre gathered the blankets up in her hands as she remembered, her mother's face imprinted forever in her mind.

But then she was gone.  In the dream, a tiny Gyllandre found herself in the middle of the dirt road, grasping for her mother's tail and coming up empty-handed, bewildered and frightened by the darkness closing in on her from the adjacent forests.  Her mother was nowhere to be found, only a wisp of her scent still traceable in the air.

The priest pushed the blankets away and stood, drifting toward the chest at the foot of the bed, where she kept the ancient doll she had carried as a child, pulling it gently from it's place and cradling it to her chest.

Hundreds of years ago, her priestess mother had been taken by the orcs.  Her warrior father had been killed in the initial siege of Shattrath City.  Her mother could probably still be alive.  But in all likelihood, had been either killed or corrupted by the orcs.  Even now, every time Gyllandre visited Shattrath, her true home, she would slowly make her way through the Lower City, eyeing the Broken, wondering if any of them remembered her mother.

Now, she was all but living in the Shrine of Seven Stars, in Pandaria, after years of living on the run with the other draenei.  Upon landing on Azeroth, she readily signed up with the military forces, offering her Light-healing to the troops in need as the race clashed with the Horde and aligned themselves with the Alliance, but more effectively using shadow-magics to bend and twist enemy minds, making them drop their weapons and lose their senses while her allies advanced.  The Pandaren race smiled upon her for her balanced approach to the world, using Light and dark and keeping, even superficially, an even keel.  The trainers praised her for this, and she understood that it was the way to keep the influence of the Sha under control.

She curled up at the foot of the bed, still clutching the fraying doll.  She had been taken in by family friends, raised as one of their own, as was the newer tradition of the draenei.  Her mother had said that before they left the tranquility of Argus, it was rare that a child would grow up without a family.  But as the legion continued to pursue them through the universe, it had become an unfortunate outcome.

When she was small, small enough to still fit in her father's palm, she remembered how her parents would smile over her.  She had been born with such pale, white skin and hair, and her eyes glowed the lightest blue.  She had been Daddy's girl, always charging enthusiastically toward him as he would come trundling home from training or his patrols, jumping into his arms, doll in hand as he scooped her up and nuzzled his nose against her cheek.  Her mother was a priestess, she remembered, always feeling the warmth of the Light that the woman carried within her.  Gyllandre remembered how she smelled, warm and sweet, like the wind and grasses in Nagrand.  They lived on the edge of Shattrath, and Gyllandre was happy to spend time in either setting.

Stroking the doll's head, Gyllandre tucked her legs underneath her bottom, and sighed.  Long ago, the doll had lost the scent of her mother, of her home in Shattrath.  It had been burned as the orcs made their march into the peaceful city.

Momma!  Momma, where are we going?

She could still hear her little-girl voice pleading with her mother, wondering where they were headed.  Gyllandre squinted at the memory, trying to place the scenery.  Terokkar?  Probably.  What happened to her mother?  The dream always stopped just before she found out, leaving her grasping for the memories.

Gyllandre looked up at the knock on her quarter's door.  "Andre?" a muffled voice asked through the wood.  Tachros.  He always called her Andre.  "Andre, it's nearly time for training..."  He always sounded so tentative, as if worried he might upset her.

"I'll be right out, Tachros."  She sighed and replaced the doll in her trunk, locking it and tucking the key into her pocket as she dressed in her battle gear, ready to face a new day.