Rites of the Lifebringer

[Jonoth]

Chapter 1: Rite of Strength

A pair of glowing blue eyes peer from beneath the rim of the Tauren's black hat. It has been two weeks since she left what had once again become her home, the familiar plains of Mulgore. But things had changed. She had changed. And she couldn't pretend any longer that the quiet and peace was what she needed. She had left Mulgore as the Lifebringer, the midwife to generations of Tauren, and the aid to the sick and injured warriors that defended the tribes. She returned as the Deathbringer, one part foot soldier of the Lich King and one part spirit of vengeance upon being freed from his vicious mind rape. Inside of Yvakara, the Lifebringer and Deathbringer waged war for control, one side longing to return to what was, the other longer for her to accept what she had become.

"It is as beautiful as I remember it to be", she thought to herself as she gazed upon Nagrand. The Stormshade had only inhabited this place briefly, but for Yvakara, it was perfect. It was familiar, yet new. A place that would pose a challenge to her and allow her to find who she was. She missed her clan, but in her heart, she knew that the answer to her most troubling question would not come from them. Her friends would always wish to see the mother, the giver, the Lifebringer. But Yvakara was not just the nurse to a warrior nation. She was a defender, a soldier, a killer. Arthas had done his job well, not well enough to maintain his hold on her, but enough to make her a cold and unwavering force of destruction. And as long as the war between love and rage continued within her, she would never find any semblance of peace, and the ones she loved would always be at risk.

Yvakara had been wandering through Bloodhoof Village, when an old Shaman noticed her. Seeing the confict etched clearly on her face, he called to the Death Knight. Yvakara sat beside him, and he said, "The Earthmother calls for you to once again prove yourself." For the rest of the evening they sat in silence, Yvakara pondering the words. A week later, she embarked upon her journey, leading her to Nagrand and her current challenge, the mighty Clefthoof standing before her. She grabbed her runehalberd, quietly speaking to herself. "The Rite of Strength. First of the Rites of the Earthmother." She charges the beast, beginning her first trial.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 2: It Takes A Village

The brown-skinned Orcs looked on in shock and fear at the approaching sight. Many had grabbed their weapons expecting the incoming Tauren, and the dead clefthoof she was dragging, to be a false offering, meant to distract them as the Undead would be able to attack. They still believed this as she began to take the makeshift knife in her possession and carve it open, wholeheartedly expecting an army to pop out of the beast's chest cavity. They expected that the next spat of blood on her clothes would be theirs. They expected that this horned creature would be the harbringer of their demise.

Several hours later, the fur makes a good tent, the large ribs strong in supporting it. The meat is more than enough for the next weeks. The artisans of the village are gifted with a wealth of bones to use for trinkets and idols. The tribal elder, an old woman the rest call Greatmother, approaches the Tauren in appreciation for the gift of the clefthoof, asking if there is anything she needs in return. Glowing eyes peer from underneath the hat, as the answer comes in a soft but unnatural tone.

"I wish to see."

The Greatmother looks confused, waving a hand in front of the Tauren's face.

"You are blind?"

"No. The vision I wish for is a spiritual one."

After a moment's pondering, the Greatmother understands. She sits with Yvakara, who details her story to the Orc, explaining her mission, and her desire to understand what place she has in the world of the living. The Greatmother pitied the Tauren, and she sent Yvakara to gather the herbs she would need. With a smile, she tells the Tauren to return the next day, and her journey would continue.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 3: The Vision, Part 1

The fire burns as Greatmother and Lifebringer gather. A simple flask is drawn, the elder Orc hesitant to pass it along.

"One like you has not sipped the sapta of the elements. I am taking a great chance, possible angering the spirits through such a deed. But, you have done much for us. And the only way to honor you is to keep my word. Take this, and drink of it. And we will see what the spirits feel."

The Lifebringer nods, accepting the flask. She contemplates, the Deathbringer desiring the knowledge of the ancients. She looks to the good, and she is filled with the purpose she began her journey with. This is not a selfish deed, but something her ancestors wished for all those to come. And even in her state, she was to follow the path of all Tauren coming of age.

She drinks the sapta, and then...nothing. She frowns, uncertain of what to do. Greatmother rubs her shoulder, reminding her that she is different, so perhaps what she wishes to see will come more slowly. In secret, the Greatmother begs for forgiveness, not wanting to dishonor her word but scared to have offended the spirits. The Lifebringer just waits, as days turn to weeks. Just when she is about to turn back on her long journey, she visits the plains of Nagrand, and in an open field it stands, ready and waiting.

It is a wolf. A ghostly spirit, but decayed and green. It begins to trek across the land, and Yvakara knows her only option...is to follow.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 4: The Vision, Part 2

The Wolf leads Yvakara back to the village, where the tribe has gathered. They look upon the Tauren with sadness in their eyes, and the Greatmother approaches, a larger male covered in soot at her side with a long, rolled up leather in his possesion. The Greatmother speaks, teary-eyed to the Death Knight.

"Some of the tribe have become suddenly afflicted of illness. We fear we have angered the spirits, and to calm them, we must ask you to leave."

Head drooping, Yvakara nods in understanding. The Greatmother puts a hand on the Tauren's arm, and motions for the accompanying Orc to come closer. He hands Yvakara the package, which she unrolls to find a large, rough looking sword. A vague outlining of runic patterns are etched along the blade, which she notes match the ones on her halberd.

"The power in your halberd is one we cannot make. But, perhaps you may still find use for this."

Yvakara looks over the blade, then smiles softly to the Greatmother, as well as the rest of the tribe. She peers over to find the Wolf waiting for her outside of the village.

"I understand my vision now. And it is indeed time that I go. Thank you, for helping me on my journey. It is time to return to my world."

After exchanging goodbyes, the Lifebringer and the Wolf walk off into the sunset, heading east towards the Dark Portal.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 5: The Journey of 1,000 Miles

The Tauren enters Stonard, the atmosphere of the swamp fitting to her internal struggle. She thinks how this place can seem so depressing, dark, and dangerous, yet it is teeming with life. Insects, crocolisks, murlocs, and other breeds haunt the land, seen with trepidation yet simply trying to survive to rough landscape. The Wolf wanted Yvakara to see this, so she can understand.

She rests against a tree in the camp. Her travels through Outland to the Portal provided her with many fine stones and gems, most appearing useless and valueless to the normal eye. But she never had much care for the coin value of things. Her time was one of survival, where if it did not feed or clothe it was useless. So her jewelry held a much different purpose. It helped the children of her tribe to find the beauty in all things, most especially themselves. And she adored nothing more than her duty as a mother to everyone, teaching and guiding the generations that came after her.

The Death Knight thinks about the Stormshade Clan, and the day she met Lok'magrosh. He was the first Death Knight she met that seemed to have adjusted to their unlife, and she took up the cause of the clan. Expecting them to be more of a crutch to her, she began returning to her motherly ways, offering her guidance and a friendly ear once more. Like her, many of their number were lost, looking for something to hold on to. And to her, that made them family.

Her mind passes to the thought of her best friend, a Blood Elf, which is practically unheard of in Tauren culture. To be physically near one would cause discomfort, but death had taken away this boundary, and living with the clan, she began to form bonds with them all, especially the fiery yet distant young woman who reminded her so much of her son. Arthas had tried to make Yvakara a fearless warrior, and under his control she had become cold, remorseless, and bitter. With the ice thawed, she had found herself afraid for the first time in years, not wanting a repeat of Tyrrus...

The name hits her like a boulder. Her son, the warrior who became a Death Knight, the Death Knight who she had slain. Her inability to let go led her to raise him as a ghoul, his form a mere shadow of the man he was. In the end, she realized that while the creature she had brought with her had his body, it lacked his mind, heart, and soul. Almost as soon as he had been risen, he was put to rest, this time in the hills of Mulgore. He was home, but home would not feel that way for Yvakara.

After a few days, the Wolf howls for her. It is time to move on, and so she continues her trek. It is time for her to return to the place of her second birth. The Plaguelands call.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 6: Welcome Home

The cold walls of Acherus reek with a familiarity. Something about this place, the place where she was molded into a weapon of war, seems to feel more like home than the rolling plains of Mulgore. The Tauren wanders the halls, with many sets of glowing blue eyes gazing upon her in acknowledgement. She nods in return to her fellow Knights of the Ebon Blade, making her way to the runeforge with her recently crafted blade. As she begins the process of empowering and binding the blade, a familiar voice bellows from behind her.

"Lifebringer."

She turns, her stare meeting that of the Forsaken approaching her. She smiles a genuine smile, something rare in a place of so much death. Her hand extends out, to which the Forsaken meets with a bone hand of his own. He spies the blade leaning against the forge, then looks over Yvakara's garb, remarking, "I see you have been readjusting well. Better than most at the least." She neither confirms nor denies, simply stating, "I am finding myself again. And I have been lead back here. Suffering well, Clenticles?" The near-skeleton of a man nods, "Hard at work as always. As we continue to look for purpose, we find the answer inevitably lies in war. So I continue my duty to keep our number protected. Do you need any armor? I still owe you for saving me from myself while under the Lich King's control."

She finds the memory in the back of her mind, where she has placed most of her doings under Arthas. Clenticles was stubborn, moody, and full of angst that he had never let go of in life. In death, he took his anger out on steel, his pieces bordering more on art than armor. In time, the rage within combined with the whispers of the Lich King in his head, and he decided he had enough. Attempting to cremate himself in his own forge, he would have perished had it not been for Yvakara passing by to view his latest work. For weeks after, she had taken the time to make sure he did not attempt suicide again, and at first he seemed bitter towards the Tauren for depriving him of his "freedom". But weeks later, the Battle of Light's Hope occurred, and the voices which tormented Clenticles were gone. On her last day before leaving for Kalimdor, she went to put on her helmet, and inside was a small metal sculpture of a Tauren boy. Though unable to find him to thank him properly, she had decided to take the small ornament to a place dear to her heart. She placed it in the ground next to where Tyrrus was buried, at the tree where she had taken his life.

Waking from the memory, the Wolf was just beyond Clenticles' expectant form. It howled and dissipated into nothingness, as Yvakara knew that her vision was over. She smiled softly to Clenticles, "I may take you up on that offer, but not now. There is somewhere that I must visit first." The Forsaken nods, "Anytime for you." With a salute, the Lifebringer treads down the halls yet again, once again headed to confront her past.

[Jonoth]

Chapter 7: The Willow Weeps

The place had not changed since the last time she was here. The mark on the tree where the sword had cut across was still ever-present, as was the crimson painted across it. In her mind, the Lifebringer called this place "Tyrrus' Fall", though she knew only she would understand the significance. This was where the Deathbringer was born, not just from the later tampering of her mind by the Scourge, but from when her sword cut through her son's neck.

In an instant, she is there again. She sees the looming tower of a son, both as he was in that instant as a pawn of their enemy as well as the man who had fought valiantly at Hyjal. The memory washes over her as she hears his words.

"A second chance. Look at me, mother. I was weak and hurting. Your love only kept me long enough to find my true purpose. I have power here. The strength I had always dreamed of! You must join me, mother. We were never meant for such mortal boundaries."

She sees herself, the linen dress she wore for many years, the flimsy leather chestguard she thought would be enough, and the sword in her hand. Her hair is bloodied, face and arms cut. The tears are flow down her eyes then. The tears that wish to form in her eyes now are only ice.

"Mother. There is nothing you can do, but join me. Your place is here. You will not use that sword against me, knowing who I am. Don't make me crush you like all those who oppose our might."

She watches her son pridefully sheathe his blades, extending a gauntleted hand.

"I am your son."

Her face becomes stern. Determined. The words she finally speaks haunt her like the worst of nightmares, buried within her heart and finally confronted.

"No. My son...is dead."

His head falls to the floor. Her blade is covered in reddish ichor. The look of surprise is frozen on his face. Her heart hurts worse than her body ever could. She falls to her knees beside the fallen soldier and hold him, crying until her eyes can no longer provide tears. With what little strength remains, she digs a hole for the massive Tauren, not extremely deep, but enough to house his body. She places the head where it should be, kissing the corpses forehead. The stone sword he had carried on Hyjal is buried next to him, and she stands, ready to collapse at a moment's notice.

The galloping gets closer. Both Lifebringers turn to see the approaching soldiers. Their Deathchargers halt, and the Lifebringer of the past picks up her son's runeblade. The very touch of it brings pain to her, but her rage burns stronger. She stares them down, teeth gritted, and calls out to them.

"There is nothing left. Come get what you came for."

The rest of the memory is a blur of charging steed and clashing sword, with the Death Knights taking her lifeless body to her fate. She snaps back to reality, her frown deep and anger rising. The voice comes as a surprise, echoing from behind her.

"Yvakara..."

She turns, eyes wide in surprise as she gazes at the spirit in front of her. The third Rite of the Earthmother was to commune with a spirit of the ancestors, but the one before her would be the one she expected least.

"..Swazii?"

[Jonoth]

Final Chapter: The Forked Road

The spirit gazed upon the Lifebringer, her jaw hanging in what could pass as shock. She wants to tell him all the things she has been thinking for the past decades. Tell him of the pain she felt at his loss. Tell him how she has longed for this moment of reunion. Tell him about their son, and beg for his mercy for failing to protect the only remnant of their relationship. But she could not find the words tangled in a web of uncertainty. All she could do, was look.

The spirit looks back with tenderness, stepping forward. He is as much of a mountain of a man as she remembered. She turns away as his hand reaches for her shoulder. She finally finds the words she's been wanting to say.

"How could you leave me, Swazii? Leave us? Your son...if he only had his father to raise him properly..."

He does not answer, and she does not look for one. She turns and buries her face in his chest, and they embrace for the first time since he left to meet death. After what seems like ages, he speaks.

"You did better than anyone could ask for. My son died trying to protect his people. To protect all people. He was a hero, just like his mother is."

Yvakara looks at her mate with saddened glowing eyes, answering back, "I am no hero. I am...this creature. A creature of destruction." He stands tall, holding Yvakara by the shoulders. "Your clan would say otherwise. I say otherwise. Everything you have faced, and you still strive to protect and defend." She looks into his eyes, but says nothing. Sensing her unsuredness, Swazii continues.

"You are the Lifebringer. The one who brought children into the world and warriors back home from battle. And you are the Deathbringer. The one whose sword is raised when someone threatens the safety of your clan. One path, forked into two roads. Only you can decide which you will be. But whichever you choose, it is the path of a hero. Of one destined to be a pillar to those fortunate enough to know you. To know the woman I fell in love with when the Centaur made us believe that all hope was lost. To know the woman that did not give up then. And to know the one that will not give up now."

As Yvakara takes in his words, they share another long embrace, as his form begins to dissipate.

"Goodbye, my love."

Yvakara smiles softly. "Goodbye, my love."

As he vanishes, his final words echo to her, "You are Shu'halo. Choose the path of the Shu'halo."

She sits by the tree, the brim of her hat low as she ponders his words. She digs up the ground next to her, retrieving a metal figurine of a Tauren boy. She smiles, repeating the word to herself.

"Shu'halo."


Epilogue

The armor sits on her wonderfully. Clenticles has done his usual exquisite work. She wanders through the Plaguelands, where her road diverges, forked to the east and to the west. She smiles, understanding her husband's words.

"I am the Deathbringer. I am the Lifebringer. I am....Shu'halo."

She chooses to walk straight ahead, between both paths, headed south towards the Dark Portal to rejoin her clan.