World of Warcraft®

"It's going to be a while before I'm able to return."

The words followed the stream down the cliff side. His limp arm swayed on the left side and the healing totem pulsed. With every hum the blood flowed more rapidly throughout his body. After releasing a slight grunt, Taz pulled himself up from the rock wall. Rather or not it was an ambush, his entire unit was wiped out. What was left of himself? Was it anguish? Rage or frustration?

...guilt? Yes, guilt. It was all that was left. His brethren, the Kazk'ah Atal'ai, were all gone. The elite of the Darkspear, trusted to dismantle the Kor'kron generals and their guard. He was all that was left. Could there be a sha of guilt? Tazjiin counted down the known sha. After his run-in with the sha of anger he had no intention of falling prey to their darkness again. No, there was no sha of guilt. It was nothing but his conscious. But it may as well be a sha.

Two weeks to a month...give or take a week. It would take that long before he recovered. Until then , he would remain at his sanctuary atop the waterfalls of Azshara. This had always been his safe-haven. Ever since he left Sen'jin when he was young, it was a place of safety. Now it would be his hospital and the place for his recovery.

If anyone needed him, however unlikely, this is where he'd be.

Another ambush, another siege, another blood-caked battlefield where too few survived and even fewer came away somehow stronger for living through it. Minds riddled with agony, wracked with pain as they needlessly relived the carnage, the undeniable terror which inevitably ensnared even the most stalwart as they realized their untimely defeat. Eyes once bright with courage and burning with blood thirst faded to a sickening ash as the ax fell upon their throat.

Too many live to witness these moments and fail to be blessed with death, a silent respite where they no longer need remember. For all of Azeroth's heroes, the true strength of the world lie within the thousands of souls plagued by the memories, those who live to tell of what they've witnessed and what they learned and -somehow- remain sane.

Unfortunately, those heroes were not within the charge of Liralithe Duskraven. She had joined the Blood Knight Order not to find those rigid warriors, but to soothe those haunted by the memories, those whose minds had caved under the weight of all they had witnessed. After all, where would heroes be if no one called for a savior?

It was with this question in mind that she headed to Ashzara, following Lady Liadrin's orders as she had since day one with the Order. Intel had arrived that an isolated group of elite Darkspear, the Kazk'ah Atal'ai, had become all but a smear upon the fields save one male, a shaman. This mission was far from usual for Liralithe, since this shaman in particular was known for his prowess, his innate affinity to the elements he wielded. He was not helpless, he was far from broken or lost, but he -had- watched his brethren fall brutally at the hands of ones who should have been allies..... and with the Shas wreaking havoc upon every soul in Azeroth, one could never risk leaving a distraught soul untended...or at least Lira couldn't. She would uphold this sacred charge. She would find this shaman and soothe his bruised soul before it was too late.

Slinging her gold-threaded velvet bag over shoulder and latching the reins of her charger to a sturdy nearby branch, she strode along the narrow path that led to the alleged location of shaman's humble haven. Eyes intense, their vivid lime hue outlined in ebony, her slight frame plodded quietly and effortlessly, her mind reveling in the peace her creed had brought to her which she so longed to share with all she met.

“Tazjiin, may the Light guide me. You will know a calm heart again.”

((MOAR))

A day or so had passed since the shaman had retreated to the edge. No one had visited him, no one even knew he was there or at least that's what he though. Earth erupted around him into a barrier as a twig snapped behind him.

"Why do you travel this off-beat path to my place of solitude?!" His words trembled and a feeling he had never felt since he was a child rippled through his body. Fear. There was no fear while his friends and warriors died around him. No trembling or sorrow. How come he felt it now? He didn't even see what stood behind him on the path.

The lonely shaman waited behind the wall of rock, still weary of his condition...and what might happen if he let his guard down.

Halting her steps, Lira's mint-green gaze fell steadily upon the pure manifestation of serenity that sprawled out so splendidly before her. Just ahead, the shaman's haven had been masterfully positioned to provide optimal comfort as well as strategic advantage should the catastrophic day come to pass when war would ravage this virgin paradise. The perpetual autumn that graced this land with it's gold, crimson, and vermilion palate would perplex even the most adept of artists...it's being marred was unforgivable. It was no wonder then why Tazjiin would have sought refuge here.

The snapping of a small branch beneath her heavy boot reverberated through the tranquil cliff's edge as Liralithe weaved her way towards the earthy abode just ahead. It was as if the Light itself whispered in her ear when she realized with a jolt how menacing she might seem to arrive unbidden at this injured shaman's sanctuary. Her lilliputian features and placid nature could scarcely hold a candle to fear of the unknown. As Lightborn Justicar, she could never forgive herself should she invoke unintentional trepidation within the heart of a distressed soul.

Placing her cumbersome velvet satchel upon the ground, she fixed her eyes upon a camouflaged gap amidst some trees just ahead, surmising it as a lookout point as she dropped to one knee. Crossing her right arm across her chest, palm opened against her shoulder, Lira lowered her head in the display of humility and honor she had assumed since her induction as an esteemed Lightborn. He was her charge this day. If Tazjiin was yet another war-plundered being shielding itself within the sanctuary's protective arms then, by the Light, she would guide him delicately to health and mental respite once again should he accept the blessing of assistance.

The diminutive elf held her position, her equanimity undeniable. Lira appeared to radiate with an aura of reassurance knowing that first and foremost, Tazjiin was an wounded animal. He must -not- feel threatened.

Sensing his cautious yet meticulous inspection of her approach, she knew the best course of action was to patiently wait.

The elements crumbled in front of him. He didn't understand why the elements suddenly would not listen to him. Your duty is to protect me and yet you flee?! All of those thoughts of feeling helpless constricted the troll, and he felt that sting of fear once more. Calling out once more to the wind for assurance or help, the roar bellowed off of the cliff as wind swirled behind him and pushed him towards the blood elf.

"Why are you pushing me towards them?!" Finally the wind seemed to lift him off and plop him rather angrily directly in front of the tiny elf. Yet, with all of her small features Tazjiin was still frightened. Perhaps the wind knew better than he, that this one was here at the benefit of his wounded state. Without a moment's hesitation the shaman was humbled before this being that emanated a radiance of civility. He postured himself onto his knees and bowed quietly to the elf, while his left arm continue to limp to his side.

Everything calmed around him, his anger and frustration had caused the elements so much turmoil that with the sudden change of demeanor the elements were able to calm themselves. The waterfall itself seemed to quiet itself. The troll's expression relaxed as he knew he'd be safe for now. Maybe the elf could teach him something that he needed to know. With that thought, the troll lifted himself and positioned himself onto his knees.

An awkward toothy grin escaped him as he spoke. "My name is Tazjiin."

Liralithe trembled as the elements raged about the cliff, the waterfall itself seemed to cry out as the wind whipped about her hair, forcing her off-balance. The hand that had laid respectfully across her chest to her shoulder now shifted to the ground aiding her in remaining upright despite nature's raw fury.

She didn't panic, she didn't flee. It was her duty to see that this shaman received aid and that sacred charge she'd upheld since her induction as Lightborn Justicar was one she would sacrifice her very life to uphold.

Trusting the Light implicitly was second nature to her. Lira allowed it to flood her mind with that near-unnatural peace, her minty eyes fixated upon the ground until the savage earth chose to settle around her. The Light had blessed her with tremendous power, but the elements were something outside her jurisdiction and she had accepted this fact long ago.

As the wind abated, retreating into silence allowing the little elf to regain her sight and hearing, she sensed a presence: one filled with trepidation and anxiety, confusion and hesitation. It was perfectly clear who this troll was as she lifted her eyes from the ground, a nervously grinning shaman looking directly into her eyes. Replacing her arm across her chest, she met his gaze politely and smiled, one that rivaled the reassuring beam of a mother upon her child- an expression that undeniably told the onlooker that everything would be alright.

“Tazjiin. I am Liralithe Duskraven. I ask you forgive my intrusion upon your sanctuary,” She rose to her feet, gesturing for the shaman to do the same, extending a slender though strong hand towards him, her eyes carefully scrutinizing his face and injured arm as she continued. “I know you've needed aid, good sir, and seek to hasten your recovery. Your people need you to fight.”

The perpetual aura of tranquility that radiated about her sought to infiltrate the injured shaman, her voice departing from her lips like a windwool blanket upon a frigid soul. The elements had proven to be, as always, a reliable ally in properly discerning the paladin's intent as she approached, forcing the shaman to heed their call and allow her an audience. Liralithe held his hand firmly in hers, confirming her words as someone worth trusting or at the very least granting an opportunity to prove themselves. She stood once again, meekly awaiting a reply.

Light guide me...

A softness quietly crept across his face. He understood what she was there for. The kor'kron ambush had twisted his emotions so greatly that Tazjiin was afraid of being afraid. But this elf...this Liralithe...something emanated from her that soothed the very soul that fidgeted about inside him.

"You are here to heal me? How did you even know I was here? These waterfalls at the edge of Azshara are my haven. No one knows that I visit here." His confusion was prominent on his face. However, his thoughts followed the water down the cliff.

He grunted as he lifted himself from his knees, only to quietly settle down on his lanky troll butt. The troll nodded to his mangled arm resting to his side. "Are you here only to settle my spirit? Or can you fix me physically as well?" Taz was somewhat short with his request, although he didn't mean anything by it.

The waterfall seemed quieter after his question. Even the elements themselves seemed to wait for the answer.

Liralithe understood perfectly the shaman's need for a reply. Tazjiin had relied upon his precious elements for reliable, indisputable answers his entire life. Her warm sage eyes searched his own once again, their intensity following his every move. He had settled upon the ground, a slight smile slipping across his features. Despite his traumatized and impaired state, this shaman -the very last of his brethren, the Kazk'ah Atal'ai- sat as humble as a man could, awaiting her words though utterly void of any substantial reason to trust her. Though he was far from the first and would scarcely be the last of those whom Lady Duskraven would visit in this war-ravaged world, there was something about Tazjiin that impressed her. He was different somehow.

Her hand fell upon the hilt of her lustrous silver hammer, swiftly and calmly slipping it from it's sheath before stooping to place it on the ground by her side. This shaman was no threat to her, so why harbor a tool of judgement in the presence of one so meek? Removing her right gauntlet, diminutive digits wriggling free of their plated prison, a smile warmed her lips as her gaze rested upon his own with every delicate move. Taking a knee once again, this time she seated herself upon them both, sitting upon her heals so as to sit eye-level with the broad and handsome troll.

“Tazjiin, there are four nearly unknown envoys deployed for the Blood Knight Order known as the Lightborn. Each of the four serve a different purpose. You must forgive me for withholding every answer you seek, but rest assured...” Lira's eyes closed briefly as she inhaled slowly, her right hand stretching towards the man's chest before they reopened suddenly, a sun-touched glow radiating within them, her voice like a crisp ocean breeze caressing his senses, “I am the Lightborn Justicar and you have suffered a grave injustice. You must be healed...in body, mind, and heart.”

As the last words departed her roseate lips, her fingertips reached him with a penetrating warmth, the sensation infiltrating his ribs, his lungs...his heart. The faint golden glow that emanated now from her entire being, the genuine smile that weaved upon her lips, the depth of her focus...it was obvious that whatever her intentions, it was useless to resist. Why, though, would he so much as attempt to? Tranquility is a natural anesthetic- every soul fights to surivive, grapples and claws for every breath and this Tazjiin's guilt, his fear, his anguish was soon to crush his very soul.

Liralithe Duskraven would perish before the macabre tendrils of darkness consumed yet another broken spirit.

Despite the odd suddenness of her actions, the swiftness of her gesture, she had complete faith that this shaman -this profoundly unique tamer of elements- would understand her intent unequivocally. Perhaps though, now able to clearly identify her as an agent of the Light itself, propriety would deem she ask his permission.

Withdrawing the amenity of her touch, her right hand gingerly folded into her lap. Liralithe's eyes continued to gleam, that peculiar equanimity seeking to soothe Tazjiin's doubt despite the intensity locked behind her viridian stare as it fell steadily upon his mangled arm.

“The time to avenge your brethren draws near. Please... let me help you.”

Light, let this come to pass...