Shadows (BFA)

“Help Me!”

The warm crackle of the fire, the harsh scent of smoke, the haze that shadowed the landscape.

“By the Goddess!”

The shouts were like a chorus from a choir of hell, the screams seemed endless, and damning

“Mama!”

The druidess shot up from her small sleeping space, going to clutch the necklace around her neck, panting as she looked around trying to remind herself that she was in Stormwind, or at least it’s outskirts. The disgraced Spymistress stared blindly into the small makeshift tent that surrounded her, the gentle sound of rain dancing across the canopy. Closing her eyes she gave a gulp as tears streamed down her face. She opened her locket looking into it and then snapping it closed once again.

“Even in your final slumber I could not protect you” she whispered softly stroking at the coffin shaped trinket, “I couldn’t protect any of them, all of the lives sacrificed, all of horrible things I have done in the name of the Kaldorei empire, and what did it get me?”

“Mama!”

The shout seemed to cry out again, the vision of the child being pulled away by a sentinel passing her vision time and time again. In this lonely moment she could do little to silence the horrors that plagued her mind. Alone in the small tent she could but clutch the small locket wiping the tears away from her eyes as she took a deep breath. Already the Alliance prepared for their counterstrike. She had seen the soldiers marching and gathering, the catapults and Dwarven contraptions rolling slowly into place. The full wrath of the Alliance was being brought to bear and part of her knew that soon it would become difficult to ignore the song that cried out in the streets.

“No we have to go back, Mama!”

She looked away gulping down another sorrow as she stood slowly, using her staff as a walking stick she managed to hobble from her tent to look down upon the mass of soldiers gathered, the countless tents, the gentle plumes of smoke. She knew many of her own people, or what was left of them, would be marching rank and file with the Alliance soldiers, carrying the banner of revenge, of a blood oath that could only be satisfied by a slaughter that would be unmatched.

Sighing softly she shook her head looking away, even in her brief trip to the tournament, she could feel it in the very air, it was thick with a tension that need only the faintest of sparks to engulf the whole of it. Gripping the walking staff she gave a small growl swinging to punch the tree directly in front of her, something to give her feeling.

“What about mama!?”

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this” she whispered softly to no one in particular, “We took every measure, we assassinated the provocateurs, we silenced the war hawks, we used every resource available to end this strike before it even began and for what?” She looked to the tree like it would somehow answer her, “For the horde to rise up and burn the whole of my people alive in a blaze of blood lust?”

Sighing softly she went to return to her tent, once again looking down at the small coffin shaped locket, glancing at the picture “I’m sorry… I have failed you, failed our people once again” rubbing at the small glass frame, “Goddess Forgive me for the crimes I have committed, they were in vain, they have done nothing. Even after all the death, all the lies, all the subterfuge, all the Spouses and Parents I had to tell they would never see their loved ones again the very worst of the world still came to rear its ugly head”

Staring blankly at the area around her “Crispy” she shook her head and laughed, “Well I suppose it’s better than Knife ear right?”. She couldn’t grow too comfortable in this little tent, and she knew at some point she would have to return to fulfill whatever duty it is the world saw fit to give her, but for now it was difficult to even look into the eyes of her own people. The scale of the sorrow was something well beyond her own ability to comprehend, and the pain that she felt from the very essence of life around her echoed like a crashing wave.

There was no escaping this, even as the tournament grounds played host to all manner of creature, the temptation to drop all pretense, to make them pay for what they had done coursed through her blood. She wanted vengeance, but even in that she found her motivations muddled. War beget war, and fear of war is what prompted this conflict to begin in the first place. For every strike there is a counter strike, endless conflict. Perhaps in a way the tournament could act as once last attempt at peace, but she knew given the grievous wound her own people suffered the chances of such were… slim.

The drumbeat, the oncoming storm of war echoed ever closer by the hour, the tension and the anger drowning out the sorrow and loss. Her emotions were like a swirl and something she was trying desperately to at least contain, but it was proving ever more difficult, ever more problematic. She could feel her balance faltering and prayed that in the coming days an answer would at least let her know.

“You have to help her!”

She closed her eyes and tucked her legs against her chest, taking in deep breath, the night would be long.