Memories

[Krilari]

When you wish upon a Prancing Star…

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you

Darkness, encompassing darkness. This is all the woman could see, all she could feel about her barely-clothed skin. With her back pressed to the small pile of hay that lay as a bed for her, the priestess would look to the ceiling and wonder why this had happened to her. Getting kidnapped was not a new concept to the woman, sadly. She had already been captured a number of times before, all of them as if not more frightening as the last, though all of these times she would find herself asking why. Why was she taken? Why do people care for her? Why must -she- be the one tormented? Somewhere in the myriad of questions and prayers the woman would find herself enthralled by sleep, though even then peace did not come…

Silvermoon City was as grand as ever, and she had the pleasure of seeing it from a bird’s eye view… yet even as a semblance of peace took over, the horrors would begin.

In a flash of light she suddenly viewed as the scourge came marching. Another flash. They were all the closer. Another flash, she watches as the gate was torn down, how the noble blood of her kin was spilt so easily.

Once more, a flash of light. She stood in the midst of her family’s abode, watching on as the scourge pillaged and burned everything she once valued. She watched as her father and brother all fell to the floor by an abomination’s hook. Watching on as a ghoul would come from behind and kill her mother and sisters in one foul swoop.

Before she could step forward, the scene faded in a flash. In rapid succession, the visions would come. Arthas and the legions of the undead he controlled, Illidan and his massive force of demons, Varian Wrynn and the men she once called allies now pointed their blades at her throat. Every soldier, every demon, every wretched looked to see her dead… and she could not raise an arm to stop them. As they would draw all the nearer, the woman would snap awake.

She jolted up from her makeshift bed, panting heavily as she stared into the darkness. Luckily amongst the myriad of images, she had not woken her ‘Master’ who, quite loudly, snored in peaceful sleep. Even as she crouched up, her back against the wall, the visions refused to fade.

Her vision was swallowed in light, once more fading to reveal all the demons, scourge and enemies about her… However something seemed different. The representation of her stood; fearless, strong, unwavering. As the first of many blades rose to slit her throat, she cast them all back with a surge of light.

The light was blinding, bringing upon another vision as she saw a blade hovering in mid-air. Once more the visions would come in a torrent. She could see, the blade impaled upon demons and scourge alike, though as quickly the vision would snap to a figure riding through the town being hailed as a hero as it bore that same blade. She saw as the same blade that was used to inflict pain was the same to inflict justice.

Next she saw a shield presented all the same as the sword was, bathed in light as it danced in mid-air. And just as the sword, she would be assailed with visions of such a shield guarding the lives of the innocent and the weak from the world’s onslaught. The shield kept them safe, kept them strong.

The final vision came in pure white all about her, detailing her every feature as she could hear the gentle song of wind chimes clattering in the air. All at once she was horrendously confused, though she also knew what she must do.

She had to escape… she had to survive…

The vision faded and she once more found herself huddled into the corner. She would tip her head, lips muttering Thalassian prayers as her ‘Master’ snored on. Once her prayers were complete, the woman would crawl forth, her hand feeling about gently for the door. This was not all too hard as she found herself positioned not two feet from the heavy concrete slabs that guarded her. Sounding in unison, the door grinded along its hinges as her Master let out a bellowing snore which could probably challenge a dwarf’s own. As soon as the concrete found itself opened just a crack, the lithe woman would slide through and out into the open catacombs. Next came the real challenge. She looked on, seeing two bonfires crackling away into the dark caverns, a few shady figures encircled about as they shared drunken tales.

The priestess would remain low, using her small stature to remain hidden in the darkness. Once more her mouth muttered silent prayers as her mind sharpened on one single blessing she rarely recalled. Never the less she would mutter it, the blessing ringing through as if she had never forgotten it, and as she would mutter her form began to fade. The woman found herself cloaked in ethereality, and that would prove to be enough as she stalked through the forsaken halls of the catacombs. Using the late night’s darkness in turn with the natural darkness of the cryps, the priestess slowly crawled her way through the twisting halls up into the inn.

Once more she was blessed, seeing as the bartender had long hence fallen asleep at his station which in turn gave her an open shot to freedom. She scurried past the tender and through the overly-spaced gate before breaking into a full out sprint. She would pause at the steps of the crypt, looking to the midnight sky with a deep breath.

She made it.

[Krilari]

Mind, Body and Harte.


A slight groan of distaste run out from the woman’s sealed lips. By her side laid a woman known to most as ‘Dame Bastian’, but she had the privilege of calling her something else, her love. Even still in the presence of the woman she cared so much for, sleep continued to evade her. Where all of the young squires always dreamt of the day that they would join the ranks of Knighthood, it instead robbed Asha of her rest. She pondered on, how life had taken such swerves and turns. Orcs, demons, rebels and undead all alike had fallen before her in the engulfing flames of war. Yet even still found her form trembling and twitching with nervousness at the thought of truly ascending the gilded stairs, of taking her place at the foot of the alter to meditate and pray, of taking up the Knight’s Oath to truly protect all she held dear even if it would mean her life. A wayward glance would fall upon the resting woman at her side, eyeing her every peaceful movement as thoughts continued to swarm her mind. Could she really bring herself to separate from Aliz? Could she bear the loss of her only loved one.. or worse yet, could Aliz bear the loss of her? Questions would continue to flood her mind, swiftly dispersing any chance of rest.

Instead of fighting a losing battle, Asha would rise from the bed, donning a robe over her thin nightgown as to shield her from the brisk winds of Stormwind’s winter. With gentle footfalls she would descend the stairs of their apartment, slipping through the aged wooden door as to take to the city’s streets. Once more the relentless thoughts would batter her tired mind, following her as tightly as her shadow casted by the moon.

“Can I do it?” She would mutter. “Can I take the oath? Am I fit to take another under my wing?”

A sigh would whisk from her lips, playing into the cold air as she looked on to the canals. The cold waters would lap calmly, showing her shimmering reflection in the moonlight. Slowly she would pull her gaze up upon the starry night, muttering once more to herself. “He will watch over me… With the Creator’s might, there is nothing that I can not do…” She would glance to her sides where weapons would normally lay. “He is my sword and my shield, my strength and my wit. All is possible through Him.”

The woman would come to nod to herself in an approving air, the distraught expression twitching into a more joyous expression.

[Krilari]

The Cleric's Creed

Within Northshire's great Abby did an armor-clad woman rest, her mid-drift pressed eagerly to the rim of the marble table as her quill whisked away through the rugged pages of her Libram. All about the ragged book lay sheets of paper that had been used as rough drafts for her final penned work. Inspiration, she thought, a true inspiration from Him. Finally she would come to lean back into the limestone chair, peering to the final result of her worship and work.

Spoiler:

~The Cleric's Creed~

I believe in one God, all-mighty
Creator of all,
Lord of the living and deceased,
who through his own will came to be,
and through his will, Azeroth as well.
I believe in the communion of Spirits and Saints,
who have come to model their selves in image of God,
through their trials and tribulations,
their souls did so very glow,
illuminating the path so that others may follow.
I believe in the Light,
the living will of our Lord,
set into place upon this mortal realm,
so that others may come to bask in his glory.
I believe in a life after death,
and that no mortal,
baron, beast or otherwise,
may rob me of this salvation.

[Krilari]

The Master

Gathered round and round, men and women from all works of life gathered about the ruined village. None knew one another, each a stranger, but instead they all came to one man’s call, one soul they all held in common. This very soul, corrupted and twisted as it was, sat in the center of his village’s ritual circle with his mind lost far off into the musings of his daily meditation. With the gentle influx of strangers, each raising a brow to one another, he would come to rise with a blood-stained glaive held in each hand; his eyeless gaze gracing across the heads.

“…Throm’ka.”

It would a simple sign, yet one of much importance. His words spoke of honor and respect to a crowd that most likely gave him none, to a crowd that was more likely to fear him. Yet even then they followed his word, his advice, and after a lengthy speech, they followed his lead.

The group set off with haste, aided by the speed of a Ley Walker’s ability to teleport, and would soon come to appear just upon a dirt path along the rigid Blade’s Edge Mountains. Immediately the sound of clashing blades and screaming pain became apparent to the group as they stepped upon the path leading to Ruan Weald. As they slowly stalked up the way, the full value of the battle became apparent; A legion of felguards had descended upon the Cenarion encampment, and thus locked its inhabitants into a losing battle. Tauren and Kal’orei fought side to side, back to back, yet even their tempered steel was falling against the might of the demonic onslaught. Thus, without hesitation, the brave of the group barreled into combat, blades held high and their voices bellowing in a vicious war cry. Beneath the crushing might of the Hunter and his companions, the invading legion of demons had been forced well back to one of the many natural stone bridges that dotted Blade’s Edge. It would be there that the tables would turn.

Infernals and Wraithguards came crashing upon the group, their unholy charge spearheaded by none other than the cunning Nathrezim. From there the group found themselves enthralled to combat, fighting against what seemed to have been an endless swarm of the blazing beasts until final strike could be brought down by one of the Mag’hari upon the Dreadlord.

For a moment, the entire group celebrated, their arms thrown into the air and weapons held high in victorious cries and cheers… yet soon the sky would grow black, the air grown thick, and tremors would roll from the depths of the mountain.

“So bit it…” A demonic voice rumbled out, filling the air with its every word. “I will have to finish you myself..!”

Before their very eyes, the warparty’s victory came crashing down with one of the massive hooves of a Annihilan shook the very ground they stood upon. Some stood in awe, others shook with fear, yet the Hunter stood, glaives bore and voice growling.

“Run!” He barked once. “Kagh! Kagh!” He barked once more, though this time in the ancient orcish tongue.

Some refused to run, their arms held high and claimed to stand by his side, yet even he would know his fate by now.

“Fly, you fools!” He called once more. “Warn Ruan Weald! Warn the Wildlord!”

At this the hunter stepped forth to challenge the Pit Lord’s advance, fel beginning to build up and along his form as he would do so. At that the demon chuckled in a dark, taunting gesture. “You think you can challenge me…? Pathetic… I will slay you, insect, much as I will slay everyone else!”

The fel that gathered around the hunter soon began to seep into his form, tightening his posture, empowering his strength, transforming his person. When he arose he was not recognizable as a mortal once more, yet instead he became just as the demons had. The hunter had transformed into the very thing he hunted. With another taunting breath the Pit lord lunged forward, his massive blade crashing into the ground that the Hunter stood upon, yet with luck the hunter had managed to roll out of the way. With blades alit with felflame, the Hunter ran all down the belly of the beast, his glaive carving a massive gash from which its blood seeped freely.

Before the demon could think twice about it, it lurched forward to guard the wound made. “What ar-… I will crush you!” It cried in pained anger, yet by then it had been too late. The hunter, even demonic in appearance, had shed a mortal whimper as he accepted his fate. With a hand he took up one of the latent infernal stones, soon supercharging it with his own fel until it took them both in a massive fiery death.

While the Pit Lord had fallen, so had the hunter, seared and crushed beneath the weight of his prey.

All around the others had gathered, peaking out from behind stones and tress, each slowly approaching as led by none other than the hunter’s own kin, his sister. When they arrived they found nothing but the charred corpses.

[Krilari]

The Student

Hours later...

A lithe form weaved through the darkness of the forest’s night, weaving from tree to tree until she reached the cliff where a bridge once stood. With a cursed vision she peered down into the canyon, picking the faintest scents of fel lingering below. Beneath the cover of her blindfold, the Student’s brow furrowed until she worked up the will to carefully trek down the dangerous path that lay nearby. Almost constantly her eyeless gaze lingered upon the two sources of fel that ebbed into the twilight sky.

Eventually she would reach to the depth of the canyon, coming upon what would be found to be the rubble of a collapsed bridge, and it would be amongst the wreck and rubble that the two sources of fel burned away, one fairly brighter than the other.

Despite her sight, despite the form of the corpse, how little remained of the charred skin, she could already see who it was, whose corpse laid before her. The Kal’dorei bent down, scrapping rubble and rocks out of her way until the charred and reddened corpse laid before her, its two weapons still well in-tact.

For the first time during the night, a hint of distaste crept upon the woman’s apathetic visage. Her lips carefully creased into a scowl as she uttered a few low curses. With a gloved hand she reached down, taking the first of his glaives before her gaze lingered upon the remains of the Pit Lord beside.

“So this was your final hunt..?” She uttered, voice laced with slight shock. “Impressive, master, impressive…”

She crouched, taking up his second glaive before eyeing the two weapons.

“…Just as your path had ended, mine has begun… Such is life. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… we all return from where we hence came.”

The figure rose, both glaives clenched tightly in her balled fists. She spared the corpse one last gaze.

“And so the hunt continues.”