World of Warcraft®

The young Draenei walked quietly to the open journal. Her plate armor glinted in the candlelight and clinked softly on the padded carpet. She knelt, produced a quill and ink from a belt pouch and began to write in an elegant script.

I, Zephilyn, Squire of the Pia Presidium have undertaken my pilgrimage. My tale lies within this journal.

The five had gathered at the windswept, desolate place. The great Dark Portal towered above them, the two statues of cloaked guardians gazed down upon them, as if judging them all. A dispassionate observer would probably note that they were as physically different from each other as might be possible. The group comprised a young Draenei, a human, a worgen, a great cat, and a ghostly being shaped like a cat. Yet they might be a physically disparate group, in character and purpose they were quite similar. They were a party of knights, squires, and even an initiate of the Pia Presidium, or Holy Guard.

Zephilyn glanced up at the portal again. She felt a cold trickle of nervousness tinged with excitement charging her energy. It’s been years since I’ve been back to Draenor, I can scarcely remember it. She corrected her thoughts, No, not Draenor anymore, Draenor is dead. Outland.

She made eye contact with her companions. Sir Broodin, her knight and mentor, returned her gaze, merely blinking in response. Caytamar, a fellow squire nodded reassuringly. Barklin, the worgen initiate didn’t notice, he was busy preparing his equipment. And lastly, Lady Jataa, or more precisely Lady Jataa’s spirit though some type of cat familiar. They’re all here for you, Zep. They’re your friends and comrades.

She cleared her throat with more than a little nervousness. “What lies beyond the portal may be dangerous. Stay close. Our path today is what the orcs refer to as the “Path of Glory”.” She spat the last words. “It runs directly from the Dark Portal to Hellfire Citadel. It is paved not with stone, but with the bones of Draenei that the orcs slaughtered.” She swallowed. Perhaps father’s bones lie there? She shook her head. No, father died at the entrance to the Exodar. Slain by blood elves, not orcs. “We walk this path today to prove that though the Light may be dimmed, it cannot be extinguished.”

With that, she stepped through the swirling green doorway. With barely a heartbeat’s disorientation, she opened her eyes to see a blasted landscape. Two sets of great stone stairs lead down to the base of the pedestal. The landscape was tinted an ugly shade of orange and brown. No plant life, no trees. Nothing but the wind whipping across the cracked soil, carrying eddies of dust. A strange moon hung in the sky. What lay before her was nothing like she remembered from her childhood and it emphasized the death of the world she thought she’d remembered.

As her senses came back to her, she could hear the clang of steel on steel, hurried shouts, and demonic growls. A horde of demons was pressing against the guards at the base of the portal. Sir Broodin suddenly shifted shape to the form of a great bear. Before Zephilyn could draw her blade and bound down the steps, the bear was in amongst the fray. A few heartbeats later, Zephilyn and the others joined him in the swirling mass of demons and guards at the base of the steps. Like a rock-boring drill, they cut through the demon hordes and tore the heart out of the offensive before it started.

She paused to catch her breath, the last of the demons scampering away into the hills, back into their fel portals. Zephilyn knelt down and touched the ground. The path extended further into the distance. And, amongst the dirt and rock, she could see bones beneath. She closed her eyes and touched them, seeking to find the soothing power of the Light.

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Onlir had wandered many years through the spirit realm, drifting farther and farther away from the mortal realm. He couldn’t be sure how long it had been. Centuries can pass for a departed spirit and seem to be scarcely an eyeblink. He had felt the outsiders come some time ago. Not long after he’d passed. He’d occasionally felt the pinpricks of Light that meant a priest or paladin of some power had traveled nearby.
The calling he felt now was different. Yes, he could feel the tiny spots of Light and feel the undercurrents of power flowing through them. But one of this group he could sense and feel.

Cuzi? Surely not. She was safe, with the rest of the refugees.

He struggled to see the mortal realm and set his perceptions on the strange group of five, recovering from a battle, . A great bear chuffed and rooted in the earth but it possessed far more than an animal’s awareness. A wolf that walked on two legs, the likes of which he hadn’t seen. A human who carried the light with him. Some kind of ghostly cat that somehow felt like a Draenei. And then the one that had called him, he could feel her reaching out to the Light as she knelt. A paladin. Zephilyn? It can’t be.

Pride filled his heart. Always the explorer,my little one. Yet, she stood here with such strange company. Clearly welded to a purpose, what could she have come for? Why return? But, it is not safe there! The orcs and demons still hold a strong sway. A small group could not stand against even the weak descendants of the horde that had crushed his civilization.

“Go little one. Go away. It is not safe.” He focused, as much as he could given his time away from the mortal realm, struggling as if shouting underwater to will the warning to her.
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Zephilyn felt a tremor of the Light pushing back through the ground. A tone of foreboding tinged the pulse of energy, but she could not make out how or where it came from. Undaunted, she stood and walked with the group down the path of rock and crushed bone.

Ahead of them, the demonic forces had regrouped. A great pit lord stood at their head. With scarcely a sideward glance at her companions, she charged towards it. She beat her sword against her shield, taunting the great creature. “Fel creature, your grasp is slipping! The Pia Presidium comes for you! By the Light!” The great beast's claws raked for her but were turned aside by her shield. She used the momentum to spin her, she darted between the great beasts legs. Focusing her mind on her blade, a holy light glimmered along the edge. Her eyes sought vulnerable points to strike. Backs of its ankles? Too thick. Knees. Yes. With a quick turn, she planted her feet and levered her blade slidelong into the back of the Pit Lord’s knees. The blade bit deep and the unexpected force pitched the great demon down to the ground. With another lightning quick movement, she reversed her blade and leapt onto the demon’s back. The huge creature twitched, bellowed once and then lay silent.

As she recovered and moved to assist her comrades, she saw that their demonic foes were already routed. She felt the battle fury pumping through her veins, exultant. “You you own this place, fiends? Not right now! The Pia Presidium comes for you!” She raised her blade in triumph. The ghostly cat-form of Jataa silently watched her.

Sheathing her blade, she nodded to the others that the journey should continue. Chastened and surprised by her own outburst, Zephilyn’s thoughts ran back to the more somber as they marched. The three spires of Hellfire Citadel broke the tortured horizon as the group continued on.

“There it looms. The Citadel of the Shattered Hand.” She glanced at the others. “Glory Indeed. What glory is there in slaughtering those who thought you their friend? Slaughtering the defenseless?” Broodin, now returned to his more comfortable cat form, roared agreement. Her fellow squire Caytamar replied in his thick brogue, “I see no glory in thees.”

Zephilin turned one corner of her mouth up and simply replied, “I suppose we are not orcs.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught what she thought might be a frown from the ghostly form of Jataa’s familiar.

As the group neared Hellfire Citadel, several scouting parties of Shattered Hand orcs drew close. After the first was driven away, the rest kept their distance. Clearly these five were powerful foes and best watched from a distance.

As they stood at the end of the path, the great black spiked walls of the orc fortress looming before them and the canyon walls to the sides, she knew they had reached the end of her journey. She turned to address her companions, “Here lies the end of the path. If others have words to say or wish to blink..” she made a sidelong smirk towards the cat form of Broodin, “Please say them now. I will speak when all are done.”

Lady Jataa’s familiar was the first to offer her reflection, “Before you lies a terrible scar. The bane of an entire race. When we finish here, I would like to show you something more.” Caytamar and Zephilyn, the two squires, shifted somewhat uneasily but nodded agreement.

“Does anyone else have words to add?”, she asked the group. Barklin, new to the order, simply shook his head but remained attentive. Broodin’s cat instincts appeared to get the better of him as he played with the remnants of an orc.

Caytamar stepped forward, speaking with a solemn voice, “I have seen many a tragedy… and felt much sorrow over a loss. I say that as much as this is a monument to cruelty et es a place of remembrance and bravery. While these remains rest here I do’na see tha light abandan’n them. Tha Orcs have had their victory, but en tha end… there will be no light for them. She nodded with respect of his words. He finished, “Rest with peace brave souls.” And then knelt down again.

Zephilyn felt her nerves twitching as it became her turn to speak. What lessons should be learnt from this? What would Aureious, her mentor, have said? She could almost hear his voice. She closed her eyes, knelt and touched the bones on the road again. Rest, ancestors. Father. I cannot cleanse this permanently, but perhaps we can at least lessen your suffering for a time. And we can remember. She prayed silently for a moment and then stood to address the group.

“There are many lessons we can take from this. I will give two. First. We Draenei almost became the engine of our own destruction. Because we desired to become more… to reach for power beyond our grasp. We opened ourselves to the taint of the Fel. That taint followed us here, to this… And it corrupted the orcs and drove them to slay us. I drove them mad enough to pave some kind of road with our remains. Not even allowing a proper burial.” She paused a moment, letting it sink in. “And yet. Who stands on this ground now? Who in the end, is victorious.” Her voice rose as she spoke, ringing off the canyon walls.

Icy fury passed through her veins. “The Righteous. The Just. The Light.” Punctuating each by slapping her fist into her open palm. “They have had their victory. But it was incomplete. And it will never be complete. So long as we stay true to the Light. So long as we remember what others sacrificed to give us the chance to stay true.” She gestured to the bones, the fury subsiding. “Rest well, honored ancestors. You have not died in vain.”

She knelt back down and finished, “Your people remember you and your sacrifice.” Her hand reached out to the bones. She felt the hotness of a tear trickling out of her eye as she touched the smoothness of them. Noticing her friends watching her, she rubbed it away self consciously. “What? It is dusty.” The lame excuse floated out, a twinkle of mirth in her eyes covering over the sadness.
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Onlir’s spirit watched the small group through the veil separating the spirit world from the mortal. He had felt a long forgotten father’s pride as he watched his daughter drive the demons away. And he had felt her reaching out to the light, reaching for him. He tried to reach back, but his essence was too weak. It had been too long since he had passed.

I know you will remember little one. I know you will give our family and people honor. But life is about living as well, little one. Do not give your fury over to hatred. Find something to love. Hold it dear.

Knowing she was safe, with good companions, Onlir felt a great peace wash over him. He could go now. Clearly his little explorer could handle herself.
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She felt there was more to say, as her friends watched caringly. “You know I am young, for one of my people. I was but a child when we fled.” She gestured to the bones. “My father stayed to try to hold our foes back. He could be out here, somewhere. I suppose, his soul is.”

“Only part o him… He es with tha Light.” Caytamar spoke, breaking the silence and reassuring her. Yet she knew he was right. She could almost feel her father. Like the feelings on one’s fingers when reaching for an object just out of her grasp.

She looked at the group and then the path again and simply nodded. “You are right in that. I can feel it. And he knows what we’ve done this eve. Thank you all.”

As the group started to break up, she held up their hand, halting them. “I believe Lady Jataa had something she wanted to show us?” Zephilyn shifted her weight and nodded to Jataa’s ghostly form.
The cat familiar nodded, then spoke, “Come, takes to the skies with me. Before we return, I wish to show you one more thing.” After calling for their mounts, the group took wing, heading south. Zephilyn leaned in the saddle of her Hippogriff, taking in first the broken shattered hills of the Hellfire Peninsula. Small groups of demons and corrupted animals moved below her, but none sought to attack the group.

The change between the Hellfire Peninsula and Terrokar forest was staggering. No longer painted in reds and browns, the landscape below was a mixture of green alien trees and blue burbling water. Perhaps this looks more like what home was? I can barely remember it. So many trees. Flying just above the treetops, the group eventually broke out into the plains of Nagrand and landed on a small island in the middle of a lake there.

As the group dismissed their mounts, they gathered in a small circle at one edge of the island. Jataa’s cat form sat on its haunches, surveying the group. “This is the throne of the elements. The center for the connection between shamans and the elements.” The cat paused, frowning. “It is also where I lay my lifemate to rest.” Zephilyn bowed her head respectfully, feeling sympathy wash over her. It was replaced first by surprise, then embarrassment at Jataa’s next few words.

“I was among those who chose to live among the orcs. My lifemate, was a shaman orc. He had stayed behind, when our people fled. He stayed to stop the madness his people were causing. But he managed to escape through the portal, before it was lost the first time. And when the New Horde came to be, he joined their ranks. He fought the demons alongside humans and elves at Hyjal. He traveled through the Portal’s second opening, searching for signs that our people were not lost. “ The ghostly cat paused again, as if gathering herself.

“He traveled to Northrend… to stop a tide of doom. And it was there, he was betrayed. Left for dead, by his own people. Never knowing what had become of myself or our people.” Zephilyn shook her head quietly. I suppose this proves that individuals can vary. Although it is not surprising that an orc with true honor was betrayed by his fellows, now is it? Jataa continued on as the pair of squires and initiate listened. Broodin had long since slipped away to his own devices. “I..was able to recover his body. How it remained intact, only the Light knows. But many of my dear friends, other Knights of our order, helped me bring his body here. His body was burned and the ashes scattered to the winds, water, and earth.” Her tale complete, Jataa looked directly at Zephilyn, and in Zephilyn’s mind the ghost cat’s eyes bored into her. “What do you believe is my reason for bringing you all here, Squire Zephilyn?”

She shifted her weight uneasily from one hoof to the other. This is exactly the kind of question Aureious would always ask, she thought to herself. And there never is a right answer. Let me answer the best I can.

“I believe it is to show there is nobility regardless of the form it takes. Whether it is orc, human, elf… or Draenei. There is potential for good, or evil. Yes?” She paused, gazing at the scenery, wide open plains with talbuk and clefthoofs grazing, the clear water ripping peacefully across the surface of the lake and she added without thought, “And it is a pretty place.”

Jataa nodded in reply. “Yes, that is partially correct. The Orcs made a terrible mistake, but there are many among them who fought against the evil of the Legion.” She chuckled, continuing, “Yes it is one of the few places that still is pretty. But there is one more reason that I brought you here.” She paused, as if hoping the squire would do the sums and reply with more.

Zephilyn shook her head. “I am afraid I cannot name it.” Best to admit you don’t know, than to guess or lie. She met the ghostly familiar’s gaze.

Jataa frowned. “I heard the anger in your words. The hatred within them. The feeling of revenge. I broguth you here, because I too, felt what you feel. My lifemate was killed, for protecting our people.” A hard edged sadness crept into her voice. “I felt the anger and hatred for a long time.” Jataa smiled softly, “They took more from us than most would care to admit.” Father and Home, What more could they have taken? Mother? Zephilyn thought. “However I did not bring you here to tell you that action fueled by those emotions is wrong. I would be a hypocrite if I did. Know only this. Our choices are our own. The Just do so accordingly. “The cat began to fade as her spell weakened. “Think on both sides for your testimony.”

Caytamar and Zephilyn both nodded, considering Jataa’s words. She finished, “And know, that all of us… I am proud.” With that, the ghostly cat winked out of existence. The two squires and initiate were left to ponder her words.


The young paladin paused as she prepared to put her last thoughts to paper. In a few moments, they came to her and she pursed her lips, and finished.

My own lesson is that rising to the defense of innocents is good. Removing a danger or threat is Just. But one must be wary when judging solely by appearance. Hasty judgments, fueled by emotion, can be harsh mistakes. It is a hard lesson, but one I must strive to learn and in so doing, bring myself closer to the Light.

She then delicately placed the quill and ink back in a belt pouch, bowed her head for a moment and then stood. The candlelight flickered for a moment, catching the white and gold of her tabard as she softly left the room.

Jataa sat on a bench just behind the Cathedral near the pond, in Stormwind. She felt the wind blow gently on her face, heard the noises of Sisters of the Light chattering as they took their daily walk and the sounds of children racing around in their games. She frown slightly, still adjusting to the blinding of her eyes, as she lost herself in thought about the event that had taken place...when she suddenly felt a slight tug on her skirt, followed by the small sound of a young boy.

"Lady Lightsworn, I just saw one of your Order's squires write in the Pia Presidium book," the young boy said.

Jataa smiled. "Did you now? Why don't we practice your reading skills, by you reading the entry to me."

The young boy smiled as he pulled himself onto the bench by Jataa, and opened the book in his lap. "I can do that! I have been practicing every day!" The young boy turn the pages until he found the last entry, and began to slowly read. "I, Zephilyn, Squire of the Pia Presidium have undertaken my pilgrimage. My tale lies within this journal....."

Jataa smiled, as the young boy finished reading the entry. You will do just fine now, Zephilyn.. she thought to herself. But her thoughts were disrupted as the young boy spoke again.

"Lady Lightsworn, how can an Orc be noble? They destroyed Panderia, and hurt a lot of people. The soldiers who come to the church to pray and receive blessings all say the Orcs are better off dead."

"It is true, that many Orcs helped to destroy Panderia under the leadership of Grom Hellscream, but many others stood against him too. Following a dark path to the extent the Orcs have, is not something only Orcs do. Anyone can be persuaded by a leader they respect, to commit terrible things. What makes someone noble, in these circumstances, is if that person is willing to do what is right, even if it means defying the leader and the rest of his people. Even, if it means that person's death." Jataa frowns slightly as she spoke the last few words.

"Like Uther the Lightbringer?" The young boy asked.

"Yes, Just like Uther the Lightbringer."

The young boy carefully closed the book. "Thank you Lady Lightsworn. I have much to think about. Enjoy your day!"

Jataa smiled. "Your are welcome, and thank you for reading to me. Now run along." Jataa listened as the young boy's steps grew distant. She smiled and carefully stood up, leaning against her staff and carefully and slowly, following the sounds of the dwindling footsteps back to the Cathedral.