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Thoughts of Sprocketeer entered her mind, she pondered how the horrible peck had reacted to her vacant cell. Had she known the nasty creature was in fact the law she wouldn't have reacted as she had. Although there was some satisfaction of goring the pathetic fiend. The dwarf that had aided her? Well that was unfortunate, at least she hadn't been hurt badly. Now this. Running from the Watch. The last thing she would have thought of surfaced. Knabo, that damned dwarf she had hired to kidnap Nabbi. He’d actually been useful. Now he’d shown up dead. This was something she had suspected for some time. Her own hands drew the path that untimely lead to his demise. She tasted the bitter guilt, responsibility she tried so hard to discount.

The letter she had written to her probation officer had been problematic. Lying was foreign to her, her curse didn't allow false words to pass from her lips, but writing was not speaking. Her penned admission and intimidations she hoped were enough to spur them to look only at her. Her suspicions were strong on who the guilty party was, but her word now drove her actions. Her life depended on her oath, and a shield is a shield, no matter the penalties.

Noikona let out a shaky sigh. She recognized her trail would be effortlessly tracked, but some things had to be done. Armor, weapon, supplies and transportation. Her haste had left an obvious path of breadcrumbs, one that would soon lead them here. She bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder, the sea looked back. Her eyes misted, a burning sensation coursed through her nose as her throat constricted. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn't let herself. She had shattered all expectations of impressing him now. She had been living in a fantasy thinking that someone like him would ever look twice at her. She had stepped over the line.

Turning back she began taking what little supplies she had from the saddle bags of her stolen mistsaber. Carefully she packed them into her satchel, there wasn't much, but enough to get by until she reached a trading post. She gasped as a slight tinge of pain trickled up her arm from her finger. She stared at the hand bracelet. The blue gem on her forefinger glowed brightly, its homing signal activated. She could only trust the warlocks tampering had in fact done its job, disbursing its signal across Azeroth, making it impossible to pinpoint her location.

She swung her satchel over her shoulder before untying the mistsaber. Either the Watch would discover the mount or it would find a new home. Right now it was traceable, a nicety she could not afford. She didn't look back as she began to walk west. The remnants of Theramore slowly disappearing in the miasma behind her.

A day in a half later

The room was minor but well designed. A sturdy timber door opened to a small sitting room which was only large enough for a chair to be pressed close to a petite bookshelf. The chair was modest but solid enough to tolerate the full weight of the plate armor which now hung from its back and sides. The bookshelf contained no volumes, its weathered shelves instead held various packets of herbs, stacked neatly in an orderly fashion. The floor was covered with a thick dark brown fur. An arched opening across from the chair led to the bedchamber which contained a bed, washbasin and small wardrobe. A large draped window above the headboard gave an impressive view of the bustling trading town of Everlook.

Noikona set on the edge of the bed, her eyes looking down at the hand bracelet she wore. The dull gray metal reflected little, if not swallowing light itself. On the base was the emblem of the Alliance with an inscribed number, her number. From the base extended five digits, one for each of her fingers. Each one had its own finger ring which tightly warped around first and second joint of each finger. The appendages moved and flexed giving no hindrance. On her forefinger, a blue gem glowed brightly, piercing through thickest of gauntlets. She flexed her hand watching the metal move, Grim had warned that to tamper with it could result in the loss of her hand or more. She frowned as she turned away from it. No questions had been raised as there were many stranger things in the world.

She stood, taking the few steps into the sitting room. Her eyes caught sight of the armor which had been supplied, it needed to go. It had served its purpose but was hardly adequate if she were to defend herself. Fortunate for her was the number of Dark Iron Dwarfs in town. It was easy enough to barter as there was an aggressive amount of competition between the shops. It would be later today before her order would be ready, but the wait was worth the comfort. Until then she must find something to do. Then she would be on the move again.

A few days after Noikona was taken into custody.

Her slumber was fraught with thoughts that were not her own. Places, things she had not seen before. The whole while she was filled with an under-toe of boredom, laughing at her from a distance. She awoke to the dank uninviting yet familiar site of her cell. A place she was becoming oddly familiar with.

Three nights it had been, three nights since she refused to answer the Watch’s questions. Their probing had been thorough but even in their insistent interrogations she had declined to reveal anything. How could they fathom? How could they comprehend that her word bound her to protect? Now she was unsure if the curse even mattered. This was a friend, she would do anything for a friend, a friend deserved everything she could give, and she had nothing more to contribute other than her own life.

Stubbornly she sat up, from the reverberations echoing down the halls it was daybreak. Soon a meal would be brought, starting another day just like the previous. She didn’t expect her case to be of high priority. She had taken the responsibility, there wasn’t much more left than her sentence.

It had been the longest walk she had done in many years. Only five days ago, every step she had taken seemed to cause the weight of the world to crash down upon her shoulders. She never looked up, just down, watching the cobblestones pass under her hooves, a guard on either side of her. The city gates rose above her head, vanishing behind. The walk to the border past with a blur, there was no words exchanged, no farewells, just silence. The uninviting lands Stranglethorn before her, the familar forests of Duskwood behind. Silently the Watch left, knowing Orwyn had already warned her of the penalty for returning.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts Noikona rose from her chair. For the past days she had rented a room in Hearthglen, but now it was time to move again. She had no idea where to go or who to contact. Only a fleeting image in her head, which she had tried to hastily sketch. Even if she found the one she sought, she didn’t know what she would do. She now only wished to find out something, anything.

Her own thoughts taunted her “You can’t fight it. You are what you are. This is what you’ve been all your life. Quit opposing it”

She took another step, dust blew around her hooves, the endless desolation of Netherstorm spread in all directions. She walked on, it was the only thing that she felt she could do. The Holy Light that protected her soul was now only a spark in a deep expanse of shadow. She was suffocating, her mind raced as she peered into her own soul, keeping a steady gaze on that tiny spec of purity.

Again her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, “Give into your hate. Become what you once were. You have held back far too long and for what purpose? Loyalty? Friendship? Love?”

Noikona’s eyes looked skyward, the Pale Lady looked back, its cratered surface mirroring her own damaged soul. Her hands shook, as she delicately took out two of her most treasured possessions. A broken mirror and a friendship bracelet. The gems on the bracelet sparkled, she whispered “How can one like myself have friendship?”

She looked down at the mirrors reflection. She spoke to herself “We have seen allot. We have done much evil. What have we gained? Wealth? Power? Nay. They are only fleeting trinkets and shiny bobbles and power that slips through your hands like the sands on the beach.”

The weight of the shadow pressed down on her shoulders causing her to crumple to ground, she held the mirror tightly in her hand refusing to turn away, its edges cutting deeply in her hand. She continued to speak “No! I will not have it anymore. My Lady Adrazel, My Lady Azheira and my friends deserve more. You don’t control me. Yes we have done much, you were wrong, but you didn’t know any better. You didn’t know what friendship was, you didn’t know what love was. You were only out for yourself and what you could achieve.” Her voice trailed off “You didn’t know any better.”

Emerald flames flickered from her eyes as she gazed at her reflection, she spoke “Noikona Thulane Momlir, I forgive you”

The mirror shattered.

Darkness overcame her as she lost consciousness.

Cursing herself for saying too much, Noikona left the Watch’s headquarters with great haste. She returned to the Recluse working late into the night. Although the bar always remained open, it was quiet. She looked over the tables sighing, what would Officer Corlys do? Noikona had all but admitted to a crime, but it had been so long ago. She frowned as she reflected, regardless it had to come out eventually. She had seen with her own eyes Lady Azheira shield that bastard dwarf, twice. Noikona’s face darkened as the images raced through her mind. Twice she had called fire down upon Knabo and twice Azheira protected him. This action erased the suspicions Noikona had of Azheira having any foul play in the dwarf’s demise. Had Azheira wanted him dead she wouldn’t have bothered raising her shield, as Noikona was more than willing to end him for her.

She leaned against the bookshelf at the bar entrance, her words came out in a whisper “Then who? Who killed him?”

Her eyes narrowed as Nabi’s face crossed her mind, she shook her head dismissing it. No she was doubtful she could have done such a thing, although there was plenty of motive, it was just not her character.

She thought hard. There was the possibility of the Syndicate, I mean after all she had hired Knabo to kidnap the gnome. His face was seen by them, she grumbled dismissing that too. No, everyone involved in that plight had fled or was now dead.

A feeling of dismay washed over her. The only person that made sense was herself. She had motive and had attempted to send him to the grave twice before. The only thing she had was her word. The word of a criminal. Her eyes drifted down to her bracelet, the blue gem on her forefinger pulsing dully every few heartbeats.

She left the bar, heading for home. For now she would act as if nothing had changed. Wasn’t like things could get worse.

An assortment of colorful expletives echoed through the forest from behind the garrison. The blade of the sword buried itself deeply in the moist earth. Noikona approached it, a deep scowl ran across her face. Gingerly she grabbed the hilt, pulling the weapon from the soft soil. Her gaze looked back at her practice dummy, a practice dummy a bit out of the ordinary. Great care had been taken into its construction. It was human sized and dressed. Silver threaded boots, leggings and tunic adorned it with a black panama style masters hat hiding a meticulously drawn face. A white trimmed, black tabard rested over the chest with a dark blue all Seeing Eye on its center.

Noikona adjusted her grip, the hilt felt foreign in her involuntarily altered hand. Without her pinkie, her control felt labored and difficult as if half of her strength had been sapped from her grasp. The ring finger no longer had a partner to work with and struggled to adjust. Parry’s, lunges and swipes now became painful if not near impossible, it felt as if she were picking of the blade for the first time. Raising her shield she charged, starting with a shield slam. She quickly followed with a wide slash to the midsection, backing up to send the blade forward. Before she connected, the weapon once again flew from her grip, this time skipping off a stone, sending a spray of sparks over the dew drenched ground.

She shook in anger, all her rage management disappeared. Emerald flames erupted from her eyes. Her breath showed like steam in the early morning air. She tucked her chin to her chest and charged the practice dummy. Her deadly sharp horns piercing its midsection. Raising her head she shook the dummy back and forth as it was still lodged to her horns. With a powerful flick it flew from her, landing several paces away. She sprinted to it and began stomping and kicking it until all that remained were a few pieces of silver trimmed fabric. After several heartbeats she let out a labored breath. Her eyes slowly returned to their lilac color and the sounds of the forest could once again be heard. She sighed deeply as she retrieved her sword. She didn't look back as she left the area to go start breakfast.

((This was originally posted in the Blueflame Phoenix thread - http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/13733703480.
But it is also appropriate here as Lola's part of the story needs to conclude.))

“Shkully, you’re being a complete moron aaand you know it. Arthash Menethil was NEVER a member of the Tauren Chieftainsh.”

Hoots and cat-calls echoed from the other side of the table, where the rest of the Nun Munchers and Jaw leaned or lurched against the wall. Skullmulcher, the band’s lead vocalist, lyricist and publicist sat staring up at Azheira with the ugliest smirk she had ever seen. It phased her not, however. She stood firm, hands balled into tight fists and planted argumentatively on her hips.

“A moron, eh? You are th’one who doesn’t know your Chieftain ‘istory. Or ya are just too drunk ta remember?”

Frustrated, Azheira threw her hands up in the air, dropping them back into a not-so-neat fold across her chest with an exasperated huff as she flopped into her seat. More hollers erupted from the band and Jaw gurgled something completely inappropriate.

“Probably the drunk as !@#$ bit, cause ya can’t even get my name right. S’not Skully.”

“Fine. Shkullmuncher, you are being a complete moron.” The peanut gallery erupted.

“Tha’s Skullmulcher, Missy.”

Azheira’s hand paused midway to her drink. “But the band name ish Nun Munchersh. I thought…”

“Nun Munchers from ‘ell, actually.”

“Oh.” Her fingers found the shot glass and brought it to her lips. Taking it in one gulp, she tried really hard to not cough, failed, and the Nun Munchers chortled raucously. “Yeah, yeah, drinking ish not my forte.”

“Doing fine, Miss Azheira,” Clearly smitten, Edgar smiled shyly, his beefy jowls a bass drum of vibration. Fretless and Capo, lead guitar and bassist respectively, both reached over and shoved him. Hard. The grotesque splat of decaying flesh reverberated throughout the bar.

Her face contorting into a repulsed squish, Azheira flicked a lump of rotted goo off her shoulder. It hit the eye of an orc two tables over. This, of course, started a brawl.

Fists flew.

Literally.

Fretless removed his right hand and smashed it into the nose of the nearest orc. The orc retaliated with a knee to whatever was left of Fretless’ groin. Capo took out two orcs with one swing of a chair to their knees. Jaw stuck his extremely long tongue down the throat of one orc, choking him to death. Skullmulcher charged in smashing a few heads. When he reached the largest orc, he grinned wolfishly before picking up the green skin and sending him flying in Edgar’s direction. The abomination promptly rolled, smothering the orc. The fight was over almost before it started. Still, the Nun Munchers continued pounding the orcs for a bit. And each other. Just to work out the kinks.

Azheira sat quietly, sipping her whiskey, slowly this time. “Perhapsh we should have had that nish quiet dinner in Shilvermoon after all.”

“Well, ma chère, I do believe that might have been best for someone such as yourself, hm?”

Azheira turned slowly, her state of inebriation affecting her movement and manners. Bluntly, “Who. Are. You?”

The woman now standing at Azheira’s side pouted. “Ah, yes, you have forgotten moi, have you not? As well as many other things.” With and affectionate smile, she reached up, gently touching the tip of Azheira’s elvish ear. “I am one who is…concerned for you.”

Blinking, Azheira tried to focus on the woman’s face. Too much drink had made her brain feel like cotton candy, fluffy nothing and sticking to everything it shouldn’t. But something seemed familiar about that voice.

“Concerned…for me? Why?”

“Ah, ma petite, I can help you remember those things you have forgotten, you see.”

Azheira shook her head in confusion. “The Old Man ish already helping me. Did he shend you?”

The woman eyed the Nun Munchers warily. “We will speak privately. Come, ma petite.” Her fingers snaked around Azheira’s upper arm, dragging her up and towards the door.

Skullmulcher slid a bloodied hand through his greasy mane and started to call out for another round of drinks when he spotted the woman next to Azheira. “Boys.” One word, spoken in a death growl and the band and jawless one had her surrounded.

In a panic, the woman tried to cast a demonic teleport, but Skullmulcher was too quick. With an efficient snick, her neck was broken, head flopping comically to one side.

“%^-*. Th’Dread Lord is gonna kick our collective asses fer not taking her ta Silvermoon like we said we was.”

Carly warily eyed the gem sitting on the table in front of her. Until two nights ago, it had been a lovely, but perfectly ordinary claret colored stone. That night, as she was eating a late night snack and catching up on some studying her teacher had assigned, the gem began vibrating. It had rattled so violently, Carly thought it might just fall off the nightstand. She had tucked it into the blankets on her bed as it continued to shake for several minutes.

Carly had debated with herself about trying to contact her teacher. After all, the elder warlock had been the one to give her the gem. But her teacher had been so evasive lately. The woman was hiding out in cave, for fel’s sake. At that time, she decided antagonizing the very powerful woman who was instructing her was not the best option.

After thirteen minutes the gem’s vibrations became more acute. The agitation had become so intense, a sliver of a crack appeared and shortly after that, the quaking stopped.

Since then, the gem merely hummed. It wasn’t just humming, though. It seemed to be a song. An aching slipping quietly out of the stone, permeating the air around it with a sulfuric melody. Carly did not know what to do. She had not wanted to contact her teacher before, but now it seemed imperative.

Sighing as she stood, she slipped the gem into her pocket. “I guess it’s time for a trip to the Wetlands.”

With nothing else to do, she drew well into the night. The mural at first appeared to be abstract, without meaning, but as time went on a meticulously drawn fireplace took shape, complete with a roaring fire and stockings hanging from its mantle. On the side she drew a grand Christmas tree with ornaments of ever shape and size. Under its branches lay presents and a small train that wound its way around the trunk.

Sighing heavily Noikona took a few steps back to get a better look at her work. She bit her lip as her eyes looked at the fireplace. Somehow an unmistakable resemblance of Corlys could be seen amongst the flames. Her eyes shifted to the Christmas tree where several of the hanging ornaments resembled Imperon, in different poses of agony. She rubbed her temples, frowning as she sat on the edge of her bed.

The torchlight from outside her cell cast strange shadows on the walls and for once the stockades was surprisingly quiet. Noikona lay back on the bed looking at the ceiling. A wave of disappointment washed through her. Had she only kept her anger in check she wouldn't be here right now. Resorting to violence always lead here. She knew this but her actions just felt right at the time. Another wave threatened to suffocate her. A wave of fear. Fear of those around her losing patience and walking away. She closed her eyes as she drifted off to sleep, with thoughts of how to prove that she really was trying to change.

Huddled together in the back of the cave like some sort of dark and dastardly pow-wow the demons hissed and bickered their way through a conversation. Illyrak hovered slightly above the other two, as if holding court. Rhirezza and Kilrax didn’t seem to care. The baby’s screams echoing off the walls of the cave had them completely preoccupied.

Kilrax gave Rhirezza’s chest a pointed stare. “The kid is hungry.”

The whip came fast and hard, spinning through the air above the void walker’s head. “I’m a shivarra, not a baby feeding machine.” She pulled the length of leather back and twirled the tip around her ample bust line. “Besides, these are just for play anyway.”

“Well, we have to think of something. We’re almost out of formula and if the kid starves we are going to be in big doo-doo.”

“Will the two of you SHUT UP?!” Illyrak’s myriad of eyes were focused towards the cavern’s entrance. “She’s here.”

Kilrax turned, smoothing out the edges of his blueish-black cloud. Rhirezza made sure her cleavage was plumped up before also facing the ingress. The three of them stood, or hovered as the case may be, at attention, awaiting the arrival of their mistress. They all tried desperately to ignore the baby crying in the background as a cloaked figure approached. Illyrak’s eyes twitched. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t quite place it. Intently, he stared as the woman slowly drew near.

The face covering hood of the cloak shifted back and forth between the trio of demons and the baby basket. Her pace quickened as she strode towards the inconsolable child and picked her up, cradling her carefully. With her back to the silent demons, she took care of changing Kaalis’ diaper and prepared a bottle with the meager rations of formula left. Once the child was settled, the woman pushed back her hood and the quiet demons were mute no more.

A cacophony of hisses and howls filled the cavern, but Illyrak floated forward, his voice demanding answers. “Your aura is that of our mistress, yet your face is clearly that of her student. What have you done with her?”

Carly frowned. Confusion etched across her petite features. “I haven’t done anything with her. In fact, I came here to find her. I believe she called me.”

The demonic trio exchanged odd glances. Illyrak began to move in a wide circle around Carly, examining her from every angle. “She hasn’t been here in days. When you approached just now, however, I sensed her. And your manner of speaking…you are not stuttering. Why? What-have-you-done?”

Carly’s teeth worried at her lower lip. More out of habit than anything else. She certainly didn’t seem afraid or timid as she used to. Her eyes held the demon’s gaze – also an unusual occurrence – as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the gem her teacher had given her. The sulfuric song had been muffled by the cloth it was wrapped in, but as she unfolded it, the music became clearer. Holding the deep claret stone out for the demons to see, she opened her mouth to ask about it, but their actions stopped her.

Rhirezza sucked in a sharp breath. Illyrak’s eyes blinked rapidly in unison, creating an odd image of a fly under a microscope. Meanwhile, Kilrak’s cloud threatened to lose its shape as multiple tendrils whispered away. The observer recovered first. Eyes glowering at the other two, he quickly moved to a subservient position. Rhirezza and Kilrak immediately followed suit.

Carly’s eyelids closed in a slow blink. When she opened them, they shone with a yellow, feral hue.