Night Terrors

A distant scream, muffled by walls and shouts

Her eyes darted about the room, there was a bright light directly above shining down, more intense then staring directly into the sun. On either side two men in blue lab coats, their hands gloved, and their face covered with mask. Her mind races as she struggles against the bonds, though a quick glance would show there were no bonds at all.

The sound of a drill echoed against the walls

Intense pain, shooting horrible pain, she could not see, she was blind, what had they done? Her face was covered in blood. Her face covered in a cloth like bandage, the agonizing pain would not stop though. Her ears would not stop ringing with all those mechanical sounds. She felt at her face and could only feel the blood-soaked bandages.

Light, just barely visible through the cloth, the sound of scissors cutting away at layer after layer. Slowly the weight of the fabric started to fall from her head onto the floor below. As the bandages fell away a mirror stood before her. Those were her eyes, but were they? What eyes stared back at her?

“Fae, Arcane, deception, reconnaissance” a voice echoed in her head, a throbbing pain against the back of her neck

The screams, again, the masked men surrounding her

The world seemed to come to a stop as she heard them speak “Count backwards from 10” and as she did the world seemed to get hazier and hazier. Upon waking it was like an anvil sat upon her chest, countless machines beeped and whistled and chirped. She was restrained and could not move. Others watched carefully taking notes

Splash

There in this tank of water, but she could breathe as if she walked the land, her eyes cut through the haze as she focused on her target. A legion soldier working on some manner of corruption. With surprising speed, she was upon him, their gazes met, and he was locked in an eternal slumber from which there would be no escape. Endless torture in his own mind, but locked away, safe to slit his throat.

---

The druidess shot out of bed; her whole body covered in sweat. Her heart was racing as if she had just run a marathon. She simply began to weep rubbing at her eyes that were hers, but they were not. She took in each breath knowing that her lungs were her own but at the same time they were not. The voices echoed again and again, but the screaming had never been hers.

The pain had always been welcomed, accepted, like a pact with the devil. Closing her eyes again her mind dwelled to the orders she had given the research division, to enhance her form so that she could more easily engage the forces of the legion. 

A Bounty (BFA)

It was a quiet night there in the confines of the steam jungle town. The waves crashed against the rickety pier work that the Goblins had paid the lowest possible bid for. The druidess sat, staring out into the night sky. Before her, a small plate of spider kabobs seasoned the way she enjoyed. Taking a deep breath, she gave a bit of a burp relaxing into the chair, letting herself sink down.

She had needed the rest and relaxation after getting trapped for so long on that strange little island. Lucky for her, she usually found a bit of a good time in places like Booty Bay. Humming, the woman reached for a little book she had brought along with her, that was until a knife slammed into it.

Her head turned only to see the tip of an arrow on a rather precarious path for her face. It took less than an instant for years of battle-hardened training to kick in. With a firm shove against the base of the table, she forced the chair she was sitting in to fall backwards. The arrow’s feathered tail brushing against her nose as her body seemed to make its way towards the ground.

Grunting as she hit the ground with a thud, she drew her attention to the direction of the knife and arrow. Meeting her eyes were two orcs looking rather proud of themselves.

“So, this is the great Alnarra Stargrove, so-called spymaster” one of them huffed.

“You’d think if she were so good, she wouldn’t have even let us this close hmm? Easy to track and even easier to kill” the other teasing.

The druidess was now laying on her back. Her eyes staring up at the sky with a facial expression that one could only describe as irritated. Giving a long sigh, she closed her eyes “If you leave now we can put this all past us and no one needs to die tonight”

“The only one that’ll be dying tonight is you” the closer orc grunted. “The head of Alnarra Stargrove goes for a good bit of coin in the right markets” he sneered.

 She seemed to nod, her eyes glancing over “Well I offered” she smiled.

It had taken years of training, of leading Section 28. Now though, the once calm and kind druidess shaped into a killing machine. Much to her chagrin, it seemed that a demonstration of that machine would be getting used once more.

She pushed off against her hands beginning to do a backflip. The orcs responded in kind. Knife and arrow whistling into the night sky aiming with lethal intent for the woman. Their path was soon interrupted as roots erupted from the wooden floor beneath knocking them into the wall and window frame alike.

Landing like a cat, with grace upon her feet, the silhouette of a night elf vanished. Soon the glaring silver eyes of a saberon fell upon the two intruding green mercenaries.

“We know all about your claws Ms Cat” one taunted. He pulled an axe from his back and charged towards the lithe anthropomorphic feline.

The druidess reacted, once again roots shot from the woodwork. This time it was not to change the direction of the axe, but rather pooling like a knot in the saberon’s pawed hands. With a moments breath, the Ironwood seemed to stretch out forming two blades that caught the edge of that axe between them.

Pushing back against the raw strength of her attacker her eye caught sight of another arrow. Launched while she had occupied herself with the first orc, it's target was her head. Taking a deep breath, the druidess's cheeks billowed outward followed by a purple fireball erupting from her mouth. Colliding with the missile, the arrow disintegrated into ash in the windless room.

 “This may be a better fight then we were hoping for” the orc bearing down with his axe shouted at his partner. “The bitch actually knows how to fight”

His comments generated a grunt as the second bow-wielding orc. Within moments, he knocked back a second arrow, no intention of letting it get caught up in a stray fireball.

Growling into the night sky the orc eyed his opponent. That axe bared down upon the woman’s twin blades forcing her to buckle. “Last chance,” she said with a calm expression.

“For you,” he seemed to smirk. More force swelled before the axe seemed to cleave its way through the Alnarra's defences. The ironwood blades seemed to shatter. the massive blade drove into the woman’s chest. Blood sprayed across the Green skin of the orc as a howl of laughter seemed to erupt from the two mercenaries

“Get er head,” the bow-wielding Orc said with a pant, putting his arrow back in the quiver at his side.

As the Orc pulled his axe back there was a gasp of air from the saberon woman. As if choking on air, she lifted her fingers and seemed to be pointing towards the back of the room. The orc confused for a moment turned from what he was sure had been a successful kill. His eyes began to fill with horror.

The bow-wielding orc gave a confused glance at his partner before turning his eyes to the same spot. His own jaw dropped.

The saberon stood before them, unscathed. Holding in her hands were the same two blades that had snapped like twigs moments earlier. The prey they were sure they had killed before seemed to vanish like a swirl of dust leaving the axe to drop to the floor.

Those silvery eyes though, there was something different. Any illusion of peace had vanished from them. Staring for any length of time seemed to make both men almost sick to their stomach. sweat dripped from their neck, and the whole floor seemed to feel as if it was moving.

As if moving in and out of Shadows the Purple Panther like woman got ever closer. Both men felt as if their bodies were so heavy, their mouth dry, their heads screaming in pain. The room seemed to spin as the shape before them crept forward. The moonlight filtering through the broken boards above illuminated the slow steps towards them.

The bow-wielding orc could not even seem to lift his bow, “But how…” he managed to whisper.

“Shh…” was all that greeted him in response as clawed hand seemed to puncture the whole of his abdomen. His partner watched in horror as those claws shone in the moonlight now stained in blood.  They pushed through the entirety of the bow-wielding orc’s form.

Slumping forward the orc began to choke on his own blood as Alnarra pulled her clawed hand back. She tossed the green form aside like a ragdoll.

Approaching, the axe-wielding orc’s eyes met Alnarra’s own. He seemed to almost find himself lost in the ocean of thoughts that invaded his own. The room vanished, replaced with a whispering forest. His arms and legs now bound and tied trees with thorned Ironwood. He struggled but it seemed to only cause pain.

“Who wants my head?” she asked

“Go to fel bitch” the man spit. In response, the thorned roots squeezed tighter and found new and more horrible places to wrap themselves. He could only scream in pain

“Already been, didn’t agree with me,” she said looking down at her bloody paw “My head, who?” she asked again

“A man named Hieren Dawnwater, of the Forsaken,” he said with a choked breath. “I don’t know where he is, we’re supposed to deliver the—” he choked again. his eyes unable to focus on the almost serene forest around him. “Silvermoon” he managed to make out with a whispered breath.

“Thanks” she said before taking one of her ironwood blades from earlier and shoving it through the man’s throat and into his skull

The illusion of the forest seemed to vanish, and the Orc’s corpse hit the ground with a thud. The druidess looked around and shook her head, her eyes glancing back to her book from earlier. Removing the knife blade from it she chuffed “I was going to read this” she said in a scolding tone to the two corpses.

Project Snowclaw: A journey of self

Alnarra was wrapped in a heavier then normal cloak as the wind swept peaks of the north loomed over her shoulder. Giving a sigh her breath froze in the blistering wind, the snow falling with accumulation in feet rather then inches. Shivering she looked for her next location. Her raid of the Section 28 lab in Grizzly Hills had revealed the lab only recently abandoned and a cascade of experiments on druids for almost 10,000 years, going as far back as the war on the Satyr

.

It had also given her the next hopeful clue in her search, a supply route that was identified in some of the paperwork had most of it coming through a small outpost located in the bitter north of the Storm Peaks, buried amongst the rugged terrain and hidden behind countless miles of rock and snow. Had she not spent so much time trying to get used to the various Section 28 facilities when she had started, she imagined it would have been impossible to find

Finally, there it sat before her eye; the doorway marked with several different keys. Arcane, Fel, Druidic, Shamanistic, and more all to ensure that whomever entered was capable. Luckily, she had managed to make a few fake keys for herself, quickly sliding each of the magically imbued devices into their slot, listening as the door began to whir to life with the sounds of mechanisms beginning to unfold behind it.

Her last adventure had proven to be laced with guards, but far from anything she was concerned about handling. Here though it was possible that what waited for her was far more than a common guard defending an abandon outpost. This was even during her tenure an active facility that was used to move supplies, experiments, and more through the Section 28 supply line. She had even met with the overseer for this depot during one of her staff meetings.

Making her way in, she was quick to shift to her Saberon form, conjuring forth an Ironwood Halberd. She wanted to make no mistakes with this place and had no intention of being taken off guard. When she entered though, the lights were dim, and the entire area seemed almost abandoned. Her ears and hair stood at attention listening and waiting for the tiniest sign of life.

It did not come, not even the faintest drip of water upon the ground was heard, instead only the quiet chill of the frozen north, not something she particularly delighted in even on the best of days.

Then she heard it, a voice

“Well well well… the prodigal daughter of the claw returns?” the whispered voice asked with a laugh.

She tried to focus on the source of the sound, unsure of where it might be coming from, to prepare herself for what she assumed would be the inevitable strike

“I told the priesthood that letting you go was a poor waste of time, and that eventually you would come crawling back to us one way or another”

Her eyes twitched, trying to find a shadow in the room, any clear indication of who or what was stalking her.

“Of course, you’re not here to return are you? You’re here about project Snowclaw”

“Who are you, show yourself” she stated calmly, holding her Halberd tight against her frame ready to strike at whatever wished to come leaping at her from the shadows.

“Oh now why would I go and do a thing like that when Tormenting you like this is so much more fun,” the voice practically grinned with excitement “You know they never let me come to the staff meetings, they said it might… dampen the mood”

The druidess let her eyes continue to search the room, starting to call upon Fey Magics to enhance her eyesight

“Oh there it is…” the voice whispered “Those enhancements, the training, all finally coming together. The eyes, the arcane shards pulsing through your blood, the augmentation to prevent the negative effects of chronomancy. The shamanistic charm they implanted in your lungs to help you underwater.” An open mockery in the tone

Alnarra was quiet still, clearly whomever ‘it was had made themselves aware of the seemingly countless little modifications that Section 28 had made to enhance her combat capabilities

“I told them you were enough, that the mastery of Fae, Ironwood, and This Saberon Form that we guided you too would be all that were required”

She paused at his last words, blinking a bit as she took a moment to try and take in what he had said.

“Oh look at that, the cat has come out with her curiosity and she doesn’t even know what it is she is hunting for. A finely crafted weapon that cannot see an answer so plain it is in front of her face.” The whispers continued now seeming to come from a variety of directions. “Project Snowclaw, the results of which are standing right in front of me and she doesn’t even realize it…”

Alnarra shifted in her position before speaking  “What do you mean?”

“You of all people should know that Section 28 doesn’t take risk… we never did and we never will. Our plans must be perfect, unknowable even to those who are supposed to know. It was all part of the plan my dear. From giving away your father’s position, to stationing your children at the same outpost, to sending Veraldan and yourself on that suicide mission”

The druidess suppressed growled, a deep seething hatred rising in her but she dare not speak, not shed this illusion of calm she hoped to maintain

“We needed the perfect weapon and well… you saw how spectactually the druids of the pack had failed. They lacked control, lacked stability. But a druidess? Now that might show some promise. And with these results we can create a more… stable tomorrow” it boasted

The druidess could take it no more and she began weaving her hands and fingers together an in intricate fashion, what followed was the saberon woman spitting a purple fire from her mouth lighting effectively torching the entire room. The shadows gave no answers even exposed to light, no person, nor source of the voice to be revealed

“Temper Temper” the voice chided “We created you, do you think we don’t know exactly what you’re capable of. From the fae magic implant in your eyes to the ironwood which you grow, it has all been according to plan. Though I must admit, I did not expect you to come… so far” a small laugh followed “Nevertheless, plans have been set in motion and you brought us such a wonderful treat to experiment upon next~”

“Inodraen!?” She called out a look of shock and horror on her face

“Yes who would know that you would draw yourself so close to another druid with such a delightful and… useful tie to Ashamane” the voice snickered “But I’ve teased you enough. Till next we meet Alnarra Elsora Stargrove”

The voice stopped and the druidess roared with contempt. She felt utterly played

Project Snowclaw: Grizzly Determination (BFA)

_{The druidess sat with a quietness about her. Her eyes drifted towards the sky above, flickering her ears with an almost annoyance. Having come to the Grizzly Hills almost four days ago, she already sensed a palpable lack of reason for being here. There was no evidence of a Section 28 base, nor any reason to believe one had existed in the region. Nevertheless, her informant in Desolace had assured her that the answers she sought would be here. So she sat at the small cabin, her eyes scanning across the documents with a certain laziness.}

_{Reports from scouts, horde and alliance both, sat on the desk scattered like leaves in the fall. Every one of them had sorted through and categorized without so much as a whisper of help. The ink from Alnarra's quill replaced so many times that she lost count. Yet she knew she must persist if she wished to gain any insight into this secret project.}

_{Striking out from the cabin on a late summer's eve she began to make her way towards the fallen world tree. It marked the land alike a scar upon a patient, rotted and festering. the hope was the residents of this land, the furbolgs, could provide insight her own people couldn't. So she marched to the almost city-like structure they had constructed in the fallen tree. It was curious being in a place so holy to druids yet feeling so disconnected.}

_{Her reason for being here was far from religious and if anything, she wished to leave. The sooner she returned to her wife and the Storm Glaive the happier she'd be. It was at least relaxing to escape the drums of war that beat across the land. Here though there was a silence, almost unsettling in its nature. Biting her lip she took a deep breath and approached one of the fubolgs.}

_{The creatures, even with their ties to Elune, were devoid of the intelligence gifted to elf and man. Still, they could communicate, and as she explained the nature of her hunt the creature seemed to laugh.}

_{"They said that you would come, though I did not expect their tongues to ring true" the furbolg explained. "The people who spoke are far to often tied to shadow and lies that the off chance of the truth is rare."}

_{This certainly sounded like Section 28. Lies and shadows were the modus operandi for the organization. In light of the news, the druidess began to think this trek hadn't been in vain. Looking the beast over she demanded more.}

_{"You are the cat they sought to grow" it responded, "Near the sea, they gather, look there for your shadows".}

_{It was a frustrating response, but at least it provided a clue. Without hesitation, the druidess thanked her recently met furbolg friend. While she had reason to question why the first furbolg she spoke to might have the information, she was in no mood to. Throwing caution to the wind she made for the nearest coastal region.}

_{Though she expected something to be waiting for her, all she found among the sands was the howling wind. There were no tracks and no signs of any sort of base. Instead, it was the calm waves crashing against the sands like the land itself was breathing. A growl overtook her as she kicked at the sandy beach wishing this was not some game.}

_{"Come out damnit" she demanded of no one in particular. "I do not have time for these games, I need answers" her shouts continued. "What is project Snowclaw, and why was I never b--".}

_{But before she could finish her sentence the word Snowclaw set events in motion. As she stood on the beach, a shockwave of energy began to pulse through the ground. The druidess looked down with a mild concern before shifting. She had no intention of finding herself caught off guard in a place like this.}

_{With a heavy sigh she raised her claw-like hands in a defensive posture, her hair stood on end. Then from behind, she heard footsteps on the sand. As if out of thin air 4 men in hooded robes appeared, each holding a dagger.}

_{"Really?" the woman questioned shaking her head. The words were brief; yet, as it did not take long for the hooded individuals to make their attack. They charged headlong and the druidess met each with a treant cloaked in Fae magic. "Evens the odds" she smirked handling the man attacking her by throwing him over her head. As he hit the soft sand of the beach roots reached up from the depths of the earth to drag him beneath.}

_{Another man fell as the fae cloaked claw of another treant pierced his gut leaving him to bleed out on the sands. It took little time and effort to make short work of the attackers. A fact that also made the druidess uncomfortable. Still, though, this was no place to be getting cold feet, there must be an explanation for this trail.}

_{Looking about she caught glimpse of a change in the waters. They seemed to be breaking on something not there before. A smirk crossed her face as she made sure all her assailant lay dead or dying on the beach. She was going to get her answers one way or another.}

Project Snowclaw (BFA)

The woman walked quietly through the storm-soaked streets of a small village just north of Ferelas. Her ears gave a gentle twitch as she pulled the hood of her cloak above her head keeping her head low as she glanced at the cobble work below. Alnarra was on a mission to find answers, and if that meant employing less then ethical tactics, so be it. The druidess had always known that Section 28 had gone to great lengths to compartmentalize information. Even as the commanding officer of the organization there were always projects and matters kept away from her peering eyes.

One such project came to her attention though a small anonymous letter in the mail. The envelope had no markings, no scent, and the letters were all taken from a mixture of books and newspapers. Questioning the postmaster proved less then helpful and attempting to trace the letter had been fruitless. The contents though bared a matter that Alnarra thought might be worth investigating.

Project Snowclaw

DRK 135.23 – 123.35

You need to know

That’s all the letter included, a simple message with a set of coordinates found in the norther region of Darkshore. Though ravaged by the war with the Horde, the druidess had managed to find her way to the area to scout the coordinates. Sadly, when she arrived there was little more then rubble and ancient ruins long since abandoned, but she refused to give up on this curious lead.

Hours of research in her small campsite, digging through countless missives and buried reports had lead her on what seemed like a goose chase. She had determined the coordinates given in the letter once served as home to a Section 28 Laboratory constructed during the initial wars with the Satyr after the sundering.

Based on the information available it involved what later became the druids of the pack, long since sealed away in the Emerald dream. Finding the pieces and collaborators on the project proved difficult and even after multiple visits to the war-torn site of the lab the druidess was still left with little.

Yet she persisted. One comes to learn that in the industry of spy craft random messages often mean a great deal more. Her research into this ‘Project Snowclaw’ had led her here, this small village in Desolace. Looking through the tents there was a mixture of creature inhabiting the small trading village. Tauren, Centuar, Kaldorei, Goblin, Orc and Troll all made their home here. This village did not belong to the horde or alliance, it did not take part in the war. It was simply home to those who lived there.

Looking down at her notes, the druidess casually glanced around, she was here searching for a researcher who had been at the Darkshore labs, and afterwards taken to living a life of seclusion in this place. Asking the locals for a name did little and it became apparently quickly that whomever this researcher was they had gone to great lengths to ensure they not be found.

Skins, leathers, and the stink of boiling fat loomed heavy on her mind as she went tent to tent holding out a small artist rendition of the man she was looking for. But at each stop she found nothing but blank stares, confusion, and annoyance.

Perhaps she had gotten the wrong village, or perhaps the information was outdated. In a period as turbulent as the last 30 years, even information only days old could be made irrelevant by the constantly shifting sands of war.

And then the knife blade was pressed against her throat…

“Why do you search for a man who has been dead for ages?” a voice whispered into her ear, a drop of spittle splashing against her neck.

There was a grumble, but she finally spoke “I come searching for answers which he may have”

The blade pressed closer causing the druidess to take a sharp breath as she prepared herself for a fight. Alnarra steeled herself however, violence was a last resort and she had no intention of spilling blood today.

“Tread carefully into research abandoned or buried, you might find the answers leave corpses” the ragged voice whispered once more.

“I’m not afraid of such answers, I gave such worries up when I accepted my role in helping to create those corpses” she retorted, her silvery eyes darting to the side, trying to catch a glance of her would be assailant.

A small laugh followed, and the blade retracted “Alnarra Stargrove, Former Commanding Officer of Section 28… I thought I might see you one day”

As the blade moved away the druidess spun around to look upon the source of the voice and what stared back at her could best be described as Nightborne, she raised a curious eyebrow “If you come for my blood then you just missed your opportunity”

“Quite the opposite, I have been expecting you commander, though I did not think Section 28 would so quickly dismiss such a project” the Nightborne snickered

“Project? Project Snowclaw” The druidess retorted.

“Yes… No” the man responded “Both,” he took a deep breath “I am the researcher you seek”

“You are nightborne” she stated flatly

“And so, was your wife for a short period of time was she not?” the man retorted

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she nodded. This was some manner of illusion magic. Given the skills and capabilities of some of Section 28’s greatest researchers she grew increasingly unsure of whether or not the man standing in front of her was really there, or if he was what lay hidden behind layer after layer of disguise.

“Be clear then, if you know of Project Snowclaw, what is it?” the woman asked “Why would someone want me to know about it?”

A snort and a laugh, followed by a roll of the eyes “You” he responded simply before looking around “Perhaps it is better to ask some of the victims though hmm? I hear rumor that stationed in the great woods of the north, where the wind swept tundra meets the frozen troll empire, there lay an old worgen man who can answer your questions”.

And with a whisper of the wind the man vanished into the air around them leaving the druidess eyes scrambling to find answers.

This had only lead to more questions and more frustration, and she suspected that it was far from over. She would have to head back to the Enclave and Storm Glaive in Ferelas, less her trips start to draw more attention, but for now at least she had a lead

A Fallen comrade (BFA)

Humming softly the druidess was working on a small letter to the editor for the Booty Bay times, intending to complain about the midday parties celebrating prophets that the goblins seemed to be so happy to host. She had moved here shortly after her expulsion from Section 28, hoping that she might return to her former apartment and lay low. It had at the very least let the druidess keep her ears to current affairs, and when she could she would pass along the knowledge and information gained to the appropriate parties. Though she wasn’t fighting directly in the war again the Forsaken, she felt that at the very least her contributions might help.

But as she was writing she suddenly stopped, something was terribly wrong, a whole of pain wracked her form and she went to stand clutching at her chest. It was if a piece of her had been torn away, though she could not grasp how. Images flashed before her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek as she looked towards the door. A frown spread across her face as she straightened herself, nodding slowly and then going to gather supplies.

When her wife entered the next morning carrying the Orange and Crimson feline, there were no words that needed to be uttered, nothing that needed to be spoken between the two. Instead the druidess did the only thing she felt was proper, the manner that she had been instructed to do since her time as a child. Every Kaldorei was familiar with he ritual, as the Nightsabers were just as much a part of their lives and culture as the moon itself. A table with a number of small trinkets and items had been prepared, and a light satin cloth laid upon a table. Surrounding this were a number of candles each lit

The druidess bowed her head softly as she helped Elyxndria lay their fallen comrade across the cloth, gently going to wrap the form, speaking any number of prayers with each fold of the cloth, each tiny step measured and committed. All the while she held the hand of her beloved, squeezing at it softly as she knew the pain she bore must be beyond measure. Since the day she had first known the Sin’dorei, Ghost had been a constant and loyal companion.

There were nights that the two shared that only the Springpaw was aware of, times of weakness, sadness, and happiness only shared with the beast. So she took very special care, using a fragment of druidic magic to remove one of Ghost’s Fangs, a ritual so practices and slow, caring for the remains no different then that of a child or loved one.

Placing the fang upon a necklace she began to pray before handing over the fang and accompanying leather binding to her wife. She gave a weak smile as she spoke, “Let her watch over you now and forever as she always has” before turning away, imaging that Elynxdria had her own host of rituals she wished to perform.

Still, it was impossible not to mourn the lost of the fallen feline, in many ways Alnarra had grown so attached to the loveable beast that seeing her like this only seemed to cut into her heart. She was yet another loss in a string of losses, another death in the cruel and needless war, more then that she had grown to adopt Ghost like she was no different form one of her own saber’s

Sighing softly she went to excuse herself. She knew already the source of this death, the cause of the feline’s demise and it tore her asunder. On one hand, she had hoped that perhaps she had made some progress with Astra, some manner of reaching the person still inside; however, the feline that lay upon the table inside was more then enough proof that perhaps such efforts had utterly been in vain. All the while there was a boiling anger, beyond words, beyond thought. The rage that ran through her veins seemed to grow with each passing day, the struggle to not simply take herself to the Kul Tiran homeland and murder Orc, Troll, Sin’dorei, Forsaken, Tauren, Nightborne, Goblin and more.

She wanted nothing less then to feel the whole of her form coated in the blood them all for what had transpired, and the springpaw’s lifeless form was yet another reminder of that boiling rage. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, tried to maintain her balance. If it slipped now there was no telling if it could ever

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.