((This story is an offshoot of one I originally wrote about my Horde paladin meeting Zeph. I hope you enjoy it))
The place was familiar but not. Half remembered from happy childhood dreams, yet shifted- distorted without being necessarily twisted. A rock out of place, or a tree missing a limb it shouldn’t be. It was home. But it was not.
She sighed and leaned with her back against a tree, watching the clouds form and travel across the sky. The talbuk she’d tamed grazed peacefully beside her. They were within spitting distance of the outpost, out of sight perhaps, but if she concentrated, she could hear the workmen replacing the timber walls with stone, the ringing of the blacksmith, and all the other commotion she had sought to get away from.
Why am I here? Is it even right that I am here? This is not my Draenor. Her hands traced the edge of her crystalline claymore as she thought. What difference can a lone knight make? She frowned. She was fairly certain her parents were already dead in this world. Her analogue had either never existed or perished alongside them. What is there to change here? Is this world fated to be lost too?
Hoofbeats carried across the still air. They came at a quick canter. She tilted her head, as these were horse hooves, not clefthoof or talbuk that most natives of this world used. An outsider? Riding quickly. She stood and reached for her claymore, more out of habit than a feeling of danger. When the rider came into view, she needed more than a few moments to recognize her.
A Blood Knight, armored in black and red and astride a red-barded charger. The elf dismounted with a grace characteristic of her race. The dismount carried into a bow that somehow managed to insult and convey respect at the same time.
“Dame Zephilyn.” The blood elf smiled and sneered at once. “Ruminating on our place in the universe are we?” The blood knight showed her empty hands, emphasizing that the only threat was to Zephilyn’s ego.
She flushed slightly as the barb struck home. “Know yourself. Know your enemy. A thousand battles a thousand victories.” She spat back. She and the blood elf had trained together once. It seemed like so long ago.
Approaching with her hands at her hips, the dark armored knight laughed. “Very good. Your vindicator kinsman are rubbing off on you.” She paused, just out of swordreach and looked the Draenei up and down. “I can see in your stance and the quality of your armor that you’ve become skilled. How many Iron Horde did you fight at the portal? My kinsman says five at once, but I think perhaps more.”
Zephilyn shrugged. “As many as it took to get off the steps.” She paused again. “I lost count after five.” Her right hand closed on the grip of her claymore, left perched on her hip. Zephilyn met the blood elf’s gaze angrily. “You came for a reason? I find it hard to believe you traveled all this way to simply deliver an insult.”
The blood knight nodded and retrieved a tabard from her saddlebags. In a fluid motion she tossed it to the Draenei. It was the black and gold of the Shattered Sun. Vindicators, Blood Knights, Mages, and Priests. An order that had come together to re-take the Sunwell.
“You look for a cause, Draenei? The Shattered Sun came together to defend Quel’Thalas, to put my people back together. Now, we ride for your Shattrath.” The blood knight nodded to the tabard and then swung her legs over her mount effortlessly. “The question is, my little goat-girl. Are you up for the party?” A mocking laugh trailed through the air as the blood elf spurred her mount.
Zephilyn ground her teeth as she watched her depart. Miserable wretch. UP for the party? I’ve got something I can jam UP... She took a deep breath, fighting back the rising anger. Be mastered OF your mind rather than mastered BY your mind. Aureious’ saying came to her unbidden. A few more moments and she had centered herself enough to rationally think on what just happened.
She’s got a point. They’re my people out there. Other world or not. The Legion’s still the Legion. And someone has to make a stand. She lingered there for a few more hours. If she were truly honest with herself, a good portion of her wait was to avoid giving the blood knight a victory
.
Finally, hefting her claymore, she set down the path that led to Shattrath. One knight by herself would make little difference. But an order, an alliance even, could turn the tide. Besides, I’m not going to let that smarmy wench have all the fun.
The place was familiar but not. Half remembered from happy childhood dreams, yet shifted- distorted without being necessarily twisted. A rock out of place, or a tree missing a limb it shouldn’t be. It was home. But it was not.
She sighed and leaned with her back against a tree, watching the clouds form and travel across the sky. The talbuk she’d tamed grazed peacefully beside her. They were within spitting distance of the outpost, out of sight perhaps, but if she concentrated, she could hear the workmen replacing the timber walls with stone, the ringing of the blacksmith, and all the other commotion she had sought to get away from.
Why am I here? Is it even right that I am here? This is not my Draenor. Her hands traced the edge of her crystalline claymore as she thought. What difference can a lone knight make? She frowned. She was fairly certain her parents were already dead in this world. Her analogue had either never existed or perished alongside them. What is there to change here? Is this world fated to be lost too?
Hoofbeats carried across the still air. They came at a quick canter. She tilted her head, as these were horse hooves, not clefthoof or talbuk that most natives of this world used. An outsider? Riding quickly. She stood and reached for her claymore, more out of habit than a feeling of danger. When the rider came into view, she needed more than a few moments to recognize her.
A Blood Knight, armored in black and red and astride a red-barded charger. The elf dismounted with a grace characteristic of her race. The dismount carried into a bow that somehow managed to insult and convey respect at the same time.
“Dame Zephilyn.” The blood elf smiled and sneered at once. “Ruminating on our place in the universe are we?” The blood knight showed her empty hands, emphasizing that the only threat was to Zephilyn’s ego.
She flushed slightly as the barb struck home. “Know yourself. Know your enemy. A thousand battles a thousand victories.” She spat back. She and the blood elf had trained together once. It seemed like so long ago.
Approaching with her hands at her hips, the dark armored knight laughed. “Very good. Your vindicator kinsman are rubbing off on you.” She paused, just out of swordreach and looked the Draenei up and down. “I can see in your stance and the quality of your armor that you’ve become skilled. How many Iron Horde did you fight at the portal? My kinsman says five at once, but I think perhaps more.”
Zephilyn shrugged. “As many as it took to get off the steps.” She paused again. “I lost count after five.” Her right hand closed on the grip of her claymore, left perched on her hip. Zephilyn met the blood elf’s gaze angrily. “You came for a reason? I find it hard to believe you traveled all this way to simply deliver an insult.”
The blood knight nodded and retrieved a tabard from her saddlebags. In a fluid motion she tossed it to the Draenei. It was the black and gold of the Shattered Sun. Vindicators, Blood Knights, Mages, and Priests. An order that had come together to re-take the Sunwell.
“You look for a cause, Draenei? The Shattered Sun came together to defend Quel’Thalas, to put my people back together. Now, we ride for your Shattrath.” The blood knight nodded to the tabard and then swung her legs over her mount effortlessly. “The question is, my little goat-girl. Are you up for the party?” A mocking laugh trailed through the air as the blood elf spurred her mount.
Zephilyn ground her teeth as she watched her depart. Miserable wretch. UP for the party? I’ve got something I can jam UP... She took a deep breath, fighting back the rising anger. Be mastered OF your mind rather than mastered BY your mind. Aureious’ saying came to her unbidden. A few more moments and she had centered herself enough to rationally think on what just happened.
She’s got a point. They’re my people out there. Other world or not. The Legion’s still the Legion. And someone has to make a stand. She lingered there for a few more hours. If she were truly honest with herself, a good portion of her wait was to avoid giving the blood knight a victory
.
Finally, hefting her claymore, she set down the path that led to Shattrath. One knight by herself would make little difference. But an order, an alliance even, could turn the tide. Besides, I’m not going to let that smarmy wench have all the fun.
