Together

Lena loosened her grip on the letters, afraid to ruin the already fragile paper, as Kras stroked her hair.  She closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against his arm before standing up, lazily dropping the blankets and moving closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, massaging his shoulders.  Her big, gruff, tough, intimidating shaman needed her as much as she needed him.  She smiled and leaned her body into his, kissing the top of his head.  His hands wrapped around her waist, almost engulfing it, and he lifted her easily into his lap on the bed.

“I am sorry for snooping, Master,” she whispered in his ear as she curled up against him.  But he didn’t seem angry or disappointed.  His hand slid up and down her bare back, sending shivers throughout her body so much that her fingertips tingled pleasurably.  He shushed her quietly and held her there, his large, rough hands stroking her skin.  He liked teasing her, but this seemed more like exploring, reacquainting himself after being away so long.  She didn’t mind.

She purred softly and nudged her head under his chin, still holding the letters, and peeking at one, skimming over it, hardly remembering when she wrote such flowery prose.  The time with the Sha’nash had hardened her in certain ways, apparently.  Now that they were pioneers, setting off with a brand new order, and starting from scratch, she suddenly longed to be the draenei she had been.  Doing whatever it took to take care of herself and Kras, and of the order.  It had been many ages since Kras had joined an order she belonged to, and she smiled at the thought.  Perhaps they worked best when they worked together.  And at least they now had a combined safety net that would let them survive a very long time, and indeed could add to it as they continued their work.

They sat there quietly for a long time, listening to the sounds of the human city outside the open window.  Lena lifted her eyes and noted again the shield and daggers on the wall beside the window.  She also spotted a large axe she hadn’t noticed before in the corner beside Kras’s side of the bed.  The bedroom seemed an odd place for such things.  She raised an eyebrow and pointed at them, “Must we really have weapons in the bedroom, Kras?”

 

Future X

Thuleos pulled the door shut behind him with a barely audible click. The storage vaults for Shadows had been dug into the side of the hill, built right underneath most of the settlement, and were always kept cool and dark. His small lantern would have to do. He couldn’t risk any more light. The scent of fresh herbs and smoked meats invaded his nostrils. Here, the officers, namely Nhadiya, kept stock of the resources that fed, clothed, and supplied the community. For many centuries, the vaults were consistently kept full, even in times when resources were thin on Azuremyst Isle. Thuleos shuffled past many shelves of fresh foods, fruits and vegetables native to the island, the ongoing harvests, things that would be used immediately. Next was a small room, kept cooler than the others, full of meats from animals that the likes of Thuleos himself hunted.

Thuleos had finally left Lena to sleep. He, however, continued to think as he sat in the chair by her bed. Finally, he had a concrete plan. He had slipped quietly past the druids around their campfire, knowing their whispered conversations in Darnissian would keep them distracted from any noise he made. Now, in the dim light of his lantern, he breathed a sigh. Beyond the food items, there were several more rooms, full of other supplies that kept the community clothed, busy with crafting, and well-stocked in case of any emergency. In the furthest room, there was a supply of new, never used armor and weapons. In the event that the Shadows community needed to defend itself, there were resources available, though for many centuries, they hadn’t heard from the outside world. Thuleos stepped into this room, eyeing the section of leathers and mail armor, frowning slightly. He pulled a small pair of leather pants in a mottled brown shade from the shelf, and held them up, amazed that they were so small, that Lena would likely still be swimming in them. Almost as an afterthought, he added a belt, just in case. A leather tunic would cover her upper body. Grabbing a few more pieces, he paused as he gazed at helms. His face darkened as he realized that a helm would likely have to wait until her eye healed completely. He would have to take great care in not wounding her further. He’d have to be the one to keep her clean and bandaged and apply the salves. On his way out, he considered the healing herbs that Nhadi used, hoping he was picking the right ones to make the salves. He was trained in basic combat triage, but Lena’s injuries were much more intricate.

After adding more basic supplies to his pile grabbed a couple spare packs from the wall, stuffing all the items into them before swinging them over his back. He picked up one of the spare rifles he had created, examining it, being sure it was balanced and well-crafted, suitable for Lena’s smaller frame. He made his way carefully back to her house, noting that they’d have to get moving quickly. The dark of night was turning to the grey of morning, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun gave away their every move. Inside the house, he carefully nudged Lena awake, hoping, praying he wouldn’t be met with screaming terror. Whispering her name, he urged her to get up, shaking her shoulder gently. She finally opened her eye and stared at him. He showed her the bag, pulling out the items of armor. She was tired, and moved slowly, but he helped throw off the blankets and swung her legs around off the bed. Holding up the pants, he silently asked for permission to help her dress. She nodded lethargically, and he bent to pull the leather up along her legs. Her fingers weren’t quite as nimble as they once were, but she managed to fasten the belt around her waist, keeping the baggy leather from sliding down her bottom. Thuleos handed her the tunic and turned his back as she shucked her robe and pulled on a thin shirt, then the tunic. He knelt on the floor and slid her hooves into light leather-soled moccasins that would help her move silently, muffling the clack of her hooves against harder surfaces. If she was going to be a tracker, she needed to be stealthy. It wasn’t necessarily standard, but until they trained, he would rather be safe than sorry.

Putting a small, soft loaf of bread in her hands, he stepped outside again to find their talbuks. The beasts looked at him calmly followed easily after he loaded them with the supplies. Lena’s relatively new mount, Sabel, reminded him in many ways of one from long ago, Pryt. She had always had a way with the creatures, asking for loyalty and getting it back tenfold. He hoped she had not lost that aspect of herself since her capture. He ducked back into the house and led Lena outside, holding her half finished bread and helping lift her into the saddle. She sat there limply as Thuleos mounted up, reached out for her reins and guided her talbuk to follow his.

The pair set off to the north, headed toward Bloodmyst Isle, the long-abandoned hold of blood elves. As far as Thuleos knew, all the sin’dorei had left the northern islands of Kalimdor, but it was hard to be certain. He glanced over to Lena, who was swaying slightly in her saddle, with some worry. He hoped she could manage the trip.

Future IX

Lena’s eye shone as she nodded slowly, offering the rifle back to the hunter. Her missing eye was covered with the leather, her hair ruffled all around the string. She slept, barely, fitfully. The blanket fell from around her shoulders and she swayed. Thuleos stood with a sigh, taking the rifle and leaning it against the house again. The elves were sitting around their fire just out of earshot, but he could hear the Darnassian language trilling between the group. They were here to help, he reminded himself. He had never really been a fan of the other races on this planet, but he supposed the night elves could be trusted after so many years of fighting and dying together. But he would be damned if they would do any more harm to Lena, even in trying to help.

He wrapped an arm around Lena’s shoulder and guided her back into the house, lifting her into the bed and tucking her in. Pulling a chair close, he sat and leaned back, watching her watch him. She still hadn’t spoken more than a few short words since they found her, and most wondered if she ever would again. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, stony faced. Other than the nightmares, she showed little emotion or interest in anything, until he saw her pick up his gun. Then it was clear. Vengeance. No, that wasn’t quite it. Revenge was more gracious a word for the fury he saw in her face. While he was more than eager to seek out those who killed his uncle and did this to Lena, he knew he had to keep his taste for blood in check.

She stared at him, laying on her side. Her body was still sore. She itched, both physically and figuratively. She was ready. They were going to tell her no, they were going to tell her she wasn’t to be involved, but she rehearsed scathing words slowly in her head as she planned conversations. They weren’t going to let her avenge her lover’s killing. But she would anyway. Thuleos would help. She knew he would. They had to uproot the Underground. But she had to get back into fighting shape immediately.

Thuleos watched her blank face for a long time, having unspoken, unmoving conversations, until she finally rolled over and he assumed she went to sleep. She was going to go back, and he knew it. She was going to go give the Underground a taste of her fury. But fel if she was going alone. He sat and watched her back for hours before getting up and returning to his post outside.

They would start training tomorrow.

 

Future VIII

Thuleos was standing watch outside Lena’s house, as usual. It pained him to think that this was now hers, and hers alone. Krastos was gone. After discovering Lena, Shadows had, in short order, solemnly gathered his body, placing it on a pyre far from the settlement and from the remains of the Exodar and burned it. The Shadow Watch community stood far away, concerned that draenei were partaking in a death rite that was appropriated from the orcs. But they had no choice. His body had been too badly decomposed, and there was concern of contamination or poisons that could be spread. Since no one knew – apparently not even Lena – what had happeend, Maeorra insisted that she wouldn’t put it past the Underground to plot such a thing.

Frowning, he remembered that day. Lena was bodily held upright, Thuleos on one side, Nhadiya on the other, near the pyre. She was still mute, but quite obviously hysterical. He had tried to insist that she stay away, but she stubbornly and clumsily mounted her talbuk, swaying in the saddle as she tugged on the reins with broken fingers and joined the small procession. When they reached the location, she silently lurched forward and placed Krastos’s favorite shield across his chest, kissing her fingers, then resting them on the shield. When she finally swung around and retreated from the body, Thuleos noticed how dull and lifeless her remaining eye seemed. Her wounds were still so fresh. What happens to her now?

–

The druid’s spell had finally calmed her, and Lena fell into a deep sleep, her screams dying down to whimpers, and then to silence. Nhadi quickly ushered the men out, then quietly set to making sure Lena hadn’t undone any of the healing progress she had done. Satisfied that stitches and bandages were still in place, Nhadi snuck out of the room and closed the door behind her, eyeing the men with concern and motioning them to follow. Thuleos remained at the door, but the pack of druids followed with light steps back towards Nhadi’s home, where Arloth and Maeorra were already attempting to outline a plan.

–

Weeks went by, and Lena remained silent and all but glued to the bed in her home. Her body started to heal, with great help from Nhadiya and the Duskheart family. But it was clear that her spirit was broken. At night, they all went to bed with trepidation, praying it wouldn’t be another night of screaming and nightmares and thrashing, breathing silent sighs of relief when the sun streamed through the trees every morning.

One night, Lena woke in the darkness. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she shuffled quietly to the front door of the house. For a long moment, she stared at the doorknob, willing herself to reach for it. She finally gripped it, wincing as pain shot through her still-broken fingers, and opened the door. Thuleos was sleeping, arms crossed, and chin dropped to his chest. He was snoring. She watched him for a long while, swaying on her hooves. She had overheard muffled discussions of what Shadows were going to do. It seemed no one had a clear plan of retaliation yet. Her eyes landed on the rifle propped up on the side of the house.

Lena had a plan.

She reached out and picked up the rifle, surprised by it’s heft. She’d never used firearms, but had sometimes watched Thuleos showing off for the order, Kras grinning with pride. Her eye narrowed at the memory of Kras’s smile. It felt awkward in her hands. She was used to staves and wands and even daggers. This was cool, smooth metal that could deliver a kill shot from much further than even her spells. Her face hardened. They took away her magic. It was gone, and for all she knew, for good. She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, they destroyed her power. Since her return, she had desperately tried a few spells – conjuring the cakes she used to love, summoning her arcane familiar, even calling a small flame to the palm of her hand, and nothing. She knew she had once been able to do those things – her memory told her that much, but she wasn’t able to remember the incantations, and she could no longer access that power.

She was staring at the gun in her hands, a little unsure of how to hold it. She tried to mimic the stance she had seen Thuleos use, and in her movement, she noticed him watching her. He was awake, and surprised to see her up and about. Lowering the rifle she gazed back at him defiantly. He knew he had an opening, but a small one. They watched each other in tense silence for several more minutes.

You want to learn to use it, don’t you?

Future VII

Eladea smiled quietly and shapeshifted again, loping ahead of the group. Her ears pricked forward and her tail swished happily as she trotted along the trail. Her draenei were still here. She anxiously ran ahead, then back to Maeorra, who lead the group, rumbling softly, and shooting ahead again, then stopping short at the edge of the settlement, ducking behind a bush. The panther sniffed the air and peered through the branches. She leapt out as she spotted Nhadiya, the Caretaker. The Duskheart family greeted the priestess heartily, and Eladea pranced at their feet, finally nudging Nhadi’s hip with her nose. She rumbled softly in her chest and drew her lips back in a toothy panther grin as Nhadi fussed over her and stroked her fur. Nhadi was one that was always happy to see Eladea in her panther form, rarely batting an eye at the druid’s preference for being shapeshifted.

A keening sound nearby caught Ela’s attention, and she tipped her head, ears swiveling in the direction of the sound. She looked up at Nhadiya and rumbled inquisitively, her brow creasing when the draenei pursed her lips. Ela sat, tail thrashing through the grass and wondering what the sound was. Her ears twitched and she peered in the direction of a smaller house set back in the trees. As the other druids chatted away with the draenei, Eladea slipped away, quietly prowling toward the house where the sound was coming from.

Just outside sat a large draenei man, wearing full leather and mail armor, with a rifle leaned on the outer wall of the house. The keening noise was louder, obviously coming from inside, and the man looked pained. She vaguely recognized him, but was having trouble after all these years putting a name to his face. Someone was inside, and it appeared he was standing guard over them. It sounded like a woman crying, or moaning, or someone in obvious distress. Ela sniffed the air as she grew closer, her yellow eyes blinking slowly behind the leaves of the bushes. Tensions were certainly high here. Sitting back on her haunches, Ela watched the hunter. If Maeorra and Nhadi were still around, Arloth was surely nearby. She couldn’t remember the hunter’s name, but gasped sharply as it occurred to her: What if the crying woman was…? She shook her head and tried to dismiss the idea.

Eladea started as the crying suddenly spiraled into loud, painful screams. She lowered herself closer to the ground and crept forward as the hunter shot up from his seat and bolted inside. Her ears rang as the woman continued to scream, inching inside the door, fairly certain that she would be unnoticed, as there were clearly heavier matters at hand.

Eladea sat down hard when she saw Lena sitting up in the bed, battered, bruised, bloody, screaming louder than anything the druid had ever heard from the mage.

What happened here?

Future VI

Eladea was in her beloved panther form, curled up by a small pool in the shade of Darnassus. Her ears pricked forward, listening as a long unheard hoot of a messenger owl was heard returning to it’s roost, and she lifted her head, sniffing the air. There was something familiar about the scent left in the trail of the owl’s path and she stood, stretching out her massive paws before her and arching her back. She couldn’t quite place it, but she knew it was familiar, and friendly. She ambled along the walkway toward the tree and saw the Duskheart girl also making her way – but at a much faster pace – to the same place. Ela narrowed her eyes and thought hard, still trying to place the scent in several thousand years of her own history, and her plodding quickened as well, as if drawn to it.

While the younger night elf retrieved the owl and gently rubbed it’s head, chattering softly at it, Ela approached and sat, curling her tail around her feet, still bewildered. Araeliea pulled the parchment from the tube and squealed, sending the owl fluttering. What on earth… Eladea let out a soft rumble in her chest and followed the girl as she dashed off, likely back to her father.

As she trotted along, it dawned on her and she stopped in her tracks, just outside the Duskheart home. The owl had come from the southwest. The familiar scent was - could it be? Were there still draenei on Azeroth? Eladea’s yellow eyes widened and her tail twitched anxiously, ears straining forward to hear the excited girl shout to her father.

Eladea could only sit back on her haunches as she listened to the nearby ruckus the message had created. If panthers could cry, certainly her eyes would be welling up at the tug of fondness in her heart. After her time with the Sha’nash, she had followed the Shadows of Argus, lead by Nhadiya, Maeorra, Arloth, Glyllena, and the human, Isadori. Ela had drifted away after the passing of the human, opting to return to Teldrassil and the ways of her people. She was always out of place with the draenei, even when the newer order was far more inclusive of the other races and other professions and talents.

And when the Exodar had finally taken off for good, she mourned briefly, the loss of good friends, sage defenders of her world, even if it was not their own. It was one of the reasons Eladea had elected to return to her people. She couldn’t bear to lose more people in her life, like the younger races who passed on within the blink of an eye of her own race, or the draenei who clearly longed to return to Argus. She stayed in Darnassus, taking comfort in the familiarity of where she was supposed to be.

But if there were still draenei on Azeroth… She thought hard. Why had they stayed? Ela chided herself for assuming that draenei were unable to survive for long with the majority of their kind returning to the Exodar and hopefully to Argus. Her head snapped up as she peered at the Duskheart home. What if it was herdraenei? The ones she knew and loved and fought beside for so many years?

Doubt and Anger

From Lena’s journals:

The longer I spend time in Pandaria, the more I realize the cause and effect that the Sha have on this place and the people here, and even ourselves, those of us who have all but invaded the land.  

 

I have gotten whiff of rumors from the order that there is unrest between a few of our members.  Are some of us more susceptible to our emotions?  Are we listening to the whispers of doubt, anger, anxiety and negativity that the Sha plant within us?  

 

We must be resolve in this.  I have been studying faithfully with Lorewalker Cho, but even I can feel the tugs of uncertainty in my heart.  What are we doing here?  Certainly, the land is ripe with resources and history and legend – but is discovering it all worth the risk we pose to others?  To ourselves?

 

Whilst exploring Kun-Lai Summit last week, I heard it.  I heard the Sha speaking to me, echoing within my head.  I felt it reverberating in my heart.  Those around me must have also heard and felt it, for I saw their eyes and the flashes of uncertainty within, as if they were tasting rage for the first time and unsure what to do with it.  

 

And then, along the road between Grummie settlements, I saw it.  The Sha of Anger that Cho had mentioned to me.  It was a horrible, awful sight to behold.  It curled up from the ground in hideous black swirls, the creatures within a close radius immediately turning on one another, and starting to howl and charge those of us who seemed innocent bystanders.  I swiftly rose higher in the air on the flying disc that Cho had bestowed to me to avoid the fray, and was greeted by an even more gruesome sight.  I was face to face with this thing, the Sha, and it glared and cackled, roaring taunts to all nearby.  

 

I felt rage like nothing I had ever felt before rising in me, and it scared me.  As the Sha’s influence over the nearby creatures grew, it laughed, urging the beasts on.  Backing away to remove myself from it’s power over me, I let out a roar of my own, spreading my arms and shouting to be heard over it.  

 

COURAGE.  DO NOT FALTER!

Light, do not fail us…  Shadows of Argus cannot fall now.  There is too much at stake.