(Summery) Theozsal Darkstar is just supposed to get this package to Telaar ASAP, but the storm blew in and nobody saw it coming. Seeing a possible refuge, he ends up meeting a Sundragon who is wary of this traveler. What ends up between the two?
Wow... This was seriously supposed to be a oneshot with an Epilogue. Aaaaaand then little plotbunny suckerpunched me and here I am at 3:30 in the morning, finishing of what I started yesterday. Needless to say, minor editing is all that I have done. I split it up into around ten page sections so it was an easier read. And also, I have never played an Alliance to very high levels, so I'm going out on a limb here. Oh jeez I'm scared...
By the by... I don't own Blizzard stuff. Y'know, like Nagrand and Mag'har and Nether Drakes and all that fun stuff.
Man, I'm f p! off that I didn't get a g d Blizzcon ticket. If anyone knows where I can get two (One for me, one for Father Ray) PLEASE... PLEASE let me know. I would be forever in your DEBT!!
...On with the show.
The fields of Nagrand were swept by harshly cold winds and battered by loose debris. The sky grumbled and boiled, unfurling thunderclouds that made the Mag'har nod solemnly and bow to the spirits, who, apparently, 'felt the need to unburden themselves'. The storm built tensions in the air, pressing travelers to quicken their step on the paths across the land to a faster pace.
As dark fell and the wind died down slowly to give way to roars of thunder and slaps of lightning that struck the land, a small light in the distance gave Theozsal Darkstar a gasp of hope. He knew he was nowhere near Telaar, and could only hope that it was a campfire, and not a lamppost leading to the Horde camp. Garadar, or something like that. Theozsal chose not to concern himself with the Horde's placement in Outland, having enough trouble with his own faction to bother with. His charge squirmed again, reminding him of his course with a squall.
Wincing, he glanced around. It was not yet dark enough for his night vision to kick in, though neither was it bright enough to see clearly. He would be easy prey made easier if his package for delivery would not be silent.
Theozsal wavered, waiting another second on the beaten path that meandered south, leaning towards the firelight. It was so cold! If he could just warm himself and feed his company, perhaps he could reach Telaar before the storm reached its worst and began to empty itself of water. If his leg was aching, he chose to pretend it did not effect his decision as he kneed his mount off of their course, and towards what he hoped was a friendly, or at least neutral, fire.
And if Isel and Luftasia chose to be angry with him for not arriving on time, he had decided already to lie to them. He could only take so much of his Draenei admirers before he lost interest, to be honest.
Padding across the plains, his charge squawked angrily, as if it knew he was deliberately taking a detour. His other mount cawed in response, quieting the small beast that was tucked against the rider's bravely exposed warm belly.
In the distance, above the firelight and in a tree, some other creature roared in response to their banter. The small beast at Theozsal's front quivered, mercifully silenced, and his secondary mount grumbled to itself for a moment before screaming across the distance.
Theozsal paused, suddenly very wary. At this behavior, he was almost certain that the owner of the campfire was not of the Alliance, and that gave him enough pause to reconsider his decision. Dare he take his cargo towards enemy hands? His own hands tightened on the furs that he wrapped his charge in. The familiar weight of his swords swung easily at his waist, the welcome warmth of his mount a comfort beneath him. Perhaps he could finish the distance now, and find Telaar when the storm reached full darkness. The feathers of his other mount ruffled, a silky sound that eased his mind.
About to turn back to the road, his leg pounded a deep ache that resonated up into his chest. Swearing under his breath, Theozsal released one hand from his burden and gripped his pained leg. Concerned, his mount craned his head to try to see what hurt its owner. Grimacing, he released his leg and stroked the creature's fur.
"Easy, Nychta 'Zoou." He crooned. The pain in his leg eased lightly, enough that he was able to press Nychta towards the light again. He pointedly ignored his reason that told him to prepare for battle.
It was a nice fire pit. The sides were a smooth rock that kept the heat contained, and it was curved so the wind could sweep the smoke up and disperse it quickly. She was particularly proud of the hot coals that fell into the cusp in the curve that she shimmied just so they could. Coals were her favorite; they were the true heart of the fire. She was at ease as she fed the fire with more wood and bits of dry grass absent-mindedly, using her large sword to maneuver the stones that contained her source of heat.
The storm was picking up. She felt it in the air- some magic was stirring the boiling clouds. She paid it little mind. What harm could a mere thunderstorm bring? She had experienced them on Azeroth. Surely the ley lines that arced overhead would not cause some sort of acid rain, and thus she felt safe next to the tree and small hill that cast a shadow over her in the night.
A sudden caw broke through the rumble of thunder. Her ears perked, eyes scanning the plains across the fire. She could see little, but her senses told her something was coming. Still at ease, she laid her blade aside, angling the hilt so it was in easy reach.
Above her, her mount roared some challenge. She ignored him, instead waiting for some sort of movement.
The responding scream in the night made her eyes narrow. Her suspicions were confirmed; An Alliance approached.
Wary at last, she called her mount to her back and waited.
When the rider appeared, she was standing, her Nether Drake half curled around her, its eyes boring into the offending person.
Theozsal froze upon reaching the firelight. His eyes told him what his ears mistook as a mere Windrider. A full-grown Nether Drake curled around a shadowed figure. He noted their long ears and quickly recognized their elfish-ness, but could not see the glow of the figure's eyes to determine of what race they were.
Swallowing nervously, he hailed the shadow in his smooth common. "Greetings, traveler."
The figure did not immediately respond, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest for a few moments. He wondered bleakly if he was going to die in the next few minutes, before the champion responded in a silky common, "Greetings and well wishes, Ippeas."
For a moment he wondered if she, for her voice betrayed her sex, mistook him for someone, until he remembered the word from an old tongue. Being called 'rider' didn't seem very demeaning, but all the same he dismounted from his feline uneasily, keeping his charge concealed and praying it didn't give itself away.
"I was caught under the storm's first waves when I saw you're firelight." He explained, still nervous. "I mean you no harm, whatever race you may be."
Theozsal never thought to bother with praying to Elune before a battle, but took a moment now to pray for good fortune for the night. The worst that could happen, aside from her being a bloodthirsty Alliance slayer, would be if she was some child of an important Blood Elf family. Theozsal had heard many a tale of Humans and Night Elves angering powerful families, and were punished horribly as much as years later by a force of skilled elves.
He hoped he was never remembered for being one of them.
"Well," she began, and he detected a laugh hiding in her voice, "can you not tell that I am an elf?"
He bowed lightly. "Indeed I can. But there is no doubt that while some of our kind are peaceful by nature, there are just as many angry ones, bloodthirsty for revenge."
"Which side of the line do you stand on, Ippeas?"
Theozsal got the feeling she viewed him as some sort of curious experiment, and prayed again to Elune that she did not tire of him. He was becoming more and more sure that she was not of the Night and Elune, as he was.
"Neither, my Lady." He bowed slightly again, feeling sweat begin to grow on his brow despite the chill in the air. "While I feel no enmity towards other elves, I find my hatred for a certain Legion growing with every passing day."
Her laughter was like bells, soft as well as powerful. "How honestly you speak to me!" She exclaimed. With a wave her Drake released its curl around her and retreated to the shadows behind her. Theozsal felt slightly less threatened, and shifted his charge. "You intrigue me further; do you fear the Arcane ways?"
He blinked. "Erm, no? I have faced many a demon and many a magical power. Fearing them only weakens my defenses to them."
This time her laughter also brought her into the firelight. The flames that lit into the air also cast a soft glow to her features, and Theozsal was entranced by her sudden appearance. She was in no way a night elf; for all that she was tall enough to probably touch her nose to his chin, her face had a slender, more delicate beauty to them. Her lips were a soft pink, but her eyes were closed and denied him view of their depths.
"Then you embrace the druidic ways?"
Startled from observation, he responded mindlessly. "Of course not. While they weave themselves into the Emerald dream, I weave myself to be one with my blades, and with the shadow." Biting his tongue, the rogue called himself several kinds of idiot as the other elf was silent.
"A rogue… how interesting. My sister is a rogue." She fiddled with some piece of jewelry on her finger. "She warned me of the poisons at a rogue's disposal." Silent again, she watched him from the shadows, and he stared back, eyes wide.
Before he could as much as blink she held a large, two handed sword to his throat. Cursing, he cradled his charge to his stomach and rolled away, coming up with one hand held before him in a plea.
"Please! Anar'alah belore!" He pleaded in stuttering Thalassian. She paused, her blade at the top of a descent aimed at his head. Though he had mispronounced belore, she waited for a moment. "I mean you no harm, Ippeas! I only travel to Telaar!"
"Then you would pass word of my presence!" She snapped in response.
"No! I travel in peace, I swear!" He did not want to draw his own blade, for fear of loosing his precious charge, but should she not lower her weapon he feared his mount would step in to protect him.
Suddenly she turned and walked away. Her blade was re-sheathed and she seated herself across the fire from him. Confused, he returned to his feet, and she spoke, "You are very lucky. You will possibly never realize how lucky you are."
Theozsal blinked at her, completely caught off guard. Her face was still partly hidden by the shadows cast by her cloaks hood, but her full and shaped lips were within view, and he felt entranced as she continued, "I will not kill you now, but I must ask why Theozsal Darkstar is not hurrying to deliver his precious cargo."
The Night Elf was truly stunned now, and sat down on a rock across from her. "How… how did you-"
"How many Night Elves cross the land with a Gryphon and a black Nightsaber, with a bulging mass of furs and a squawking baby Gryphon?"
As if it knew it was being spoken of, the small catlike creature stuck its head from its wrappings to swipe the air at her. Theozsal held him slightly tighter, eyes fixed on the figure across from him.
"How do you know my name?"
Her laughter was much darker this time, and he had a sinking feeling that he should have avoided the fire light. "Why, dear Theozsal, I am supposed to retrieve the little Nipio. Why did you think you had to bring it to Nagrand, Telaar of all places?" Her hand gestured to the fields that were lit by lightening. The wind picked up again, causing the baby gryphon in his hold to grumble its displeasure and burrow back into warmth.
Theozsal waited for another moment of quiet, thinking slowly. His leg ached harder, and he fervently wished he had a proper healer look at it back at Shattrath, but he knew it would not make much of a difference.
The wind settled suddenly, and he sighed. "If you were sent to kill me, I only ask that you do not harm my mounts. They-"
"Sent to kill you?" She rose, "Do not assume that since you are still breathing I am a poor assassin. I could kill you before you ever knew I moved, make no mistake." She shuffled her cloak around her, and threw back her hood as the wind tore across the land again.
Theozsal immediately took in what shadows had hidden from him, and bit his tongue to keep from gaping. Instead of light hair, as he expected, her locks were a deep sapphire, a color he assumed she wore to help disguise her heritage. Bands of silver adorned her ears and one of her nostrils. He wondered how he did not see them sparkle, but the thought was carried away as she took his eyes with her own.
"Theozsal, I was sent to escort you from Telaar. Thrall has spoken to Jaina, who spoke on his behalf to the dwarves. A gryphon hatchling has been traded over to a Horde handler, but for what I do not know." Her eyes narrowed. "That you are dawdling in your travels only furthers my concerns."
"Hold on," he began to counter, "How am I to believe this is how the story goes. For all I know you could be a hunter seeking to steal the nestling for yourself."
She tossed her cloak aside to reveal full plate armor that shone in the firelight. Her sword he had already seen, but the tabard she wore made him pale in the light of the fire.
"Su…Sundragon?"
"The peace talks are not as successful as Jaina would have liked. Thrall wishes to ease her concerns, and thus, sent me to verify that all goes as planned, and to keep things from botching up." She rose and came around the fire to tower over him. He stared up at her, muscles locked. A Sundragon… sent to him-
She suddenly sat beside him, crooning something. He didn't catch it, but the baby gryphon scrambled from its cocoon to swipe her outstretched hand. Suddenly coming to his senses, he swept the baby into his arms and backed away. "A Sundragon… Jaina sent… I wasn't…"
Sighing, she remained seated. "You were to be informed that your contract was changed when you reached Telaar. This storm might have stopped the messenger, I worry. You will stay with me, and I will escort you to your settlement. There, you may either remain and turn the responsibility over to me, or you may continue to the meeting place."
"I don't… this isn't… I can't…"
"Do you want proof?"
Dumbly, he nodded. A hand stretched out, towards the shadows. Moments later, a small crystal soared through the air to land in her palm, fitting snugly. She said nothing, but the crystal glowed an eerie green before a grunt sounded.
"Greetings, Warcheif."
"Sundragon? What do you need?" Theozsal let his jaw drop as the orcs voice floated into the air. "Does everything go well?"
"Yes, Warcheif. Tell father his troops may have problems in Nagrand later this week though; a storm of some magical properties has built. Perhaps inquire to the mages of its nature?"
"Of course. Will that be all?"
"No, not quite…" her eyes flicked to Theozsal, who was still attempting to digest the fact that the Warcheif Thrall was having a casual conversation within the vicinity. "It would seem that Theozsal Darkstar stumbled across my little camp. He is having a hard time understanding that the simple delivery he was assigned to turned out to be not so simple, as he has yet to reach Telaar. I need something to verify my story."
"Certainly. You wouldn't like to speak directly to Jaina or Tyrande would you?"
She crinkled her nose. "No, thank you. Is there some safe word he may know?"
"Let me see… I believe the one that Jaina told me was something in elvish. Though, you may tell him that his brother Faenai Darkstar has a child named Zalthae, in his honor."
Theozsal spluttered. "But the baby wasn't due for another two weeks!"
The she-elf grinned. "Thank you, Warcheif. Any update on…?"
"Amahel has yet to send word. Don't worry," the Warcheif continued, "I'm sure she is safe. I will contact you with updates."
"Of course. Shorel'aran, Warcheif."
Turning back to Theozsal, she smiled lightly. "Does that convince you?"
He hesitated, still clutching the hatchling. "I don't know." He said honestly. "You… are a Sundragon?"
She nodded. "Though I will not reveal as to which sister I am."
"Enough of this." Theozsal nearly leapt from his skin as the Nether Drake moved into the firelight, tail skimming the ground. "Tell the Night one I will take him to his Telaar after this storm breaks." The great creature shifted, talons gauging into the ground and churning up the dark soil.
"Zatistrasz don't be silly." The Sundragon quickly replied, turning from Theozsal. "He will travel to Telaar with me, and from there to the meeting, if he so chooses to go. Knowing you, he would end up in the middle of Garadar with naught but a few lacking Thalassian phrases to hold off the Mag'har."
The Drake hissed quietly but said nothing, instead choosing to curl around the fire that was dwarfed by his mass. His deadly tail ended suspiciously close to Theozsal, who felt his two mounts shy away.
"So Theozsal," she continued, as if nothing were strange about the two conversing, "Why are you not on the road to Telaar?"
The rogue cast his eyes to the coals that burned in the fire. Seeing where his gaze was, she turned and tossed several more logs onto it, and curled her hand, bringing the fire to a blaze. He tensed at this display of power, still uneasy despite the obvious treaty between the two of them.
"I… feared for the little one." He told her. It was only half a lie, really. He had worried the storm was too much for the baby.
"I see…"
"He lies."
Zatistrasz set his glossy eyes on the Night Elf, coolly watching him as he continued, "Something pains him, though he hides his weakness."
She snapped something to the Drake in her native tongue, too fast for Theozsal to follow. But the Drake nodded and looked smug, despite the obvious reprimand.
"What ails you? Does this pain handicap you to the point that you are incapable of travel?"
"Nothing ails me, I assure you." He grumbled. Nychta crawled to nuzzle his good leg, and he let his hand fall to the massive head. "It is an old war wound; there is nothing a healer may do to fix it."
She sighed, tucking an azure piece of hair behind her ear. "If you are certain…"
"Yes." He rose, taking his now sleeping charge and placing it closer to the fire. With both hands free, he took out a small figurine and rubbed it absentmindedly. The other elf sensed he felt the need for silence, and leaned into her Drake. The storm raged on, but moved slowly away.
Several hours later, his charge woke, apparently hungry. With the Sundragon watching intently he fed it strips of tough jerky that smelled slightly stale. The youngling cawed in displeasure, and Theozsal felt the other elf kneel next to him.
"What is wrong with it?"
"Her." The rogue corrected, "She doesn't like the jerky, but it's the only thing I have for her to eat."
A ripping sound cut through the air and Theozsal looked up to see her carrying fresh meat to him. At his questioning sound, she shrugged. "Zatistrasz was hungry, and a clefthoof wandered a little too close."
The gryphon gobbled the meat greedily, sinking its claws into the bloody muscle and tearing into it. The two elves watched the grisly spectacle for a moment before she cleared her throat.
"Should your companions hunger, there is some left."
The two animals leapt across the fire, their fear of the Drake all but evaporated at the hint of a fresh meal. She turned to catch him giving her a quizzical look. "My sisters would be furious if they thought I let animals go hungry."
"Why are you doing this?"
Riseon Feravel Sundragon let the Night Elf's question sink into her mind. She toyed with several responses, one of which being very violent, before giving it actual thought.
When her father asked this favor of her, she viewed it as another chore she must do, similar to clearing the backyard of Scourge, fetching supplies for her mother across continents, doing the dishes, forging weapons, and cleaning the estate. When she was introduced to the Warcheif Thrall, she viewed it as a game, for at first, the Warcheif treated her like a child. She supposed her father must have mentioned her lack of age, but within the hour she was suddenly a source of intelligence for the Warcheif, and during her two day stay at the Valley of Wisdom, she was rarely away from the orc's side. When she was told to hurry and reach Telaar while relaxing in Shattrath, she saw it only as a favor Thrall would owe her.
But at the sight of the Elf, stumbling upon her camp and making an idiot of himself, she found herself truly astounded at his personality. He was so very different that any of the males her mother sent to quest with her, and held no similarities to the orcs and trolls in Orgrimmar either.
Most entrancing of all was the precious animal he carried and was willing to lose his life for. She never passed a thought of the Alliance's flying travel, but at such close range, she could only admire the feline grace and eagle like regality that the creature commanded.
"I do this, because Warcheif Thrall asked it of me, and I respect him more than any- aside from Father. I do this, because for once I am doing something that is important to me, as well as the Horde. I do this, because I have spent many years mucking about my estates and living easily, and when I reached the real world, I learned more than any years of disobedience and punishment could teach me." Here she briefly touched her hair and smiled, as though remembering a fond memory. "I do this… to prove something to elves with sticks up their bums who refuse to see the changes coming."
And her eyes dropped their green radiance, turning a stunningly bright blue.
Theozsal listened to her speak in silence, feeling as though he watched some revelation occur in her mind, one that he had no real right to see. He suddenly reminded himself that she was the enemy, but for all his effort, he could not feel enmity toward the young Sundragon. She touched her hair, and he almost asked for the story, but stopped himself.
And when her eyes changed colors, as he watched them, he wondered how many times she would surprise him in one night.
"Not all of us are as corrupt as Kael'thas." She muttered, and she looked up at the smoke slowly rising from their fire.
Their fire.
Theozsal wondered when it had turned into theirs and not merely hers. He also wondered at her sudden appeal to him, and attempted to remember if Blood Elves knew any seducing spells.
A small sphere of smoke, no larger than his thumb, slowly drifted towards the two elves. She beckoned to the fire, brining a red hot coal from its depths and immersing it in the smoke. Concentrating, she compressed the sphere, beads of sweat growing on her brow.
It was Zatistrasz who finished what she started, encasing the sphere in a bit of sand and turning it to glass. The show of magic impressed Theozsal, but he was utterly taken aback when she handed him the freshly made jewel, smiling.
The coal was encased in a smoky glass, making it hard to see the warm glow. He turned it this way and that, inspecting the bauble. When he looked up, he saw that her very blue eyes were on the figurine he had brought from his bags.
Before she could ask, he whisked it from her sight, tucking it deep into on of his pouches. She bit her lip, not daring to ask of the female figure that he held so dearly moments before.
"Thank you." He whispered, "For the coal. It is wonderful."
She looked away. Her armor didn't seem to fit her personality, he realized. She was very open, and it seemed the armor was merely means to what ends she wanted. "I meant it as a peace gift."
He rolled it in his hands, feeling the light warmth. "I must ask…" he began, "How did you…" Theozsal motioned to her eyes.
"My sister learned how to ease the addiction. With it out of the way, another sister was able to cleanse our family's bodies with pure Light." She shrugged, as if the miracle was of nothing. "They purified me when I was still in the womb, so I don't remember it."
Theozsal frowned. "I thought the Sundragon was an old family. Your sisters are only barely younger than me, aren't they?"
"Well, how old are you?"
"About 175." He responded easily. Her eyes widened.
"175?" She repeated. He nodded. "My eldest sister is going on 45!"
Here Theozsal was blindsided. If they were so young, she could be…
"How old are you?" He asked quietly.
"Twenty-two."
He leapt to his feet, seeking distance. "By Elune!" He suddenly felt foolish for fearing her. She was but a youngling! Probably barely out of training, and here he was already half in love with -
He froze in walking towards Nychta. That line of thinking seemed to have gone awry somewhere. He shook his head, blushing for some reason as he kept his face from her. She seemed so mature! And she was very easy to speak to, for all her appearance was disconcerting. And she was a Sundragon… what were the odds?
Glancing back at her, he found she had crooned the baby gryphon into settling in her lap like a cat, playing with one blue chunk of hair that fell over her shoulder.
Her face was slender, but seemed mature, with deep set eyes and arching full brows. Her lips were luscious, inviting despite their strange pink coloration. Long hair was finger combed away from her face, and fell in a silky waterfall barely to her shoulders.
She looked up and smiled at him. "It is such an innocent thing, isn't it?"
He drew his line of thought away from her before his maturity showed itself, instead nodding.
"You are so young… Why did your father send you on such a risky mission?"
She sighed breathily, as if this was a conversation she had many times before, and he realized she might very well have. "You forget we age differently. It is a mistake many make. I am as mature as a… say… 35 year old human I suppose, or one of your kind that is maybe 150." She shrugged. "I have lacking knowledge when it comes to age comparison. However," she narrowed her eyes, "I have seen enough of this world, and of Azeroth, that I am in no way a child. Do not make that mistake."
He nearly groaned. With every passing word, he realized who she reminded him of, and the memory was too fresh for him to pass it off easily. Without responding, he turned away again.
However, Theozsal forgot his aching leg, and turning seemed to be the last straw. With a guttural gasp of agony, his leg collapsed under his weight, and he immediately propped himself on his arms, swearing to Elune.
She fell to her knees at his side, gently setting down the Gryphon. "Theozsal? What is wrong?"
The muscles in his neck took a moment to loosen enough for him to respond. "My… leg…"
Her eyes flashed a green light, and her hands sparkled slightly. Moments later she yanked her hand back.
"By the Light!" She swore, "What enemy did you anger so, that they inflicted such a wound. And they must have somehow gotten close…"
He turned his face away. "I will not say, Sundragon."
"May I heal it? You must be in great pain-"
"No." He grimaced, pulling his leg away from her outstretched hands. "No Priest or Shaman could ease the curse. I doubt a nameless Sundragon Paladin could do more."
She was silent, a hurt look on her face. Theozsal regretted the insult, but bit his lip instead of apologizing.
"Call me Feravel." She snapped. When he looked at her with his large eyes, she turned her face away to the shadows. "It is not my true name, but it will suffice."
She could not stand the pain in his body, and instead scooped up the baby Gryphon and cuddled it to her chest at her seat before the fire. If she ignored the Night Elf, perhaps he would get better on his own.
She knew it was a foolish thought. The wound had weakened his leg, and it was now slightly broken. The muscle was being eaten away slowly; at this rate, he would be lucky to be able to stand by the end of the month.
Telling him this, she refused to watch his reaction. She knew if she was denied the ability to walk, let alone fight, she would be enraged.
"It is as I suspected." He slowly said. "I will let it run its course then. I deserve it."
She ached to ask him, but she knew he would probably get defensive, and that was no good. Instead she helped him to his cat's side, where he curled up and fell into a light sleep.
Surprised, she covered him with a light travel blanket. The storm had disappeared from the sky and was now further North east, leaving the moon to light the land. Riseon watched him sleep for a few minutes, pleased that he trusted her already, and placed a hand on his injured leg.
The break was an easy fix, but she would have trouble re-growing the muscle tissue. Her magics finally came to wear on her body, and she fell into a slumber at Zatistrasz' side, one of his wings covering her and keeping her warm.
In her dreams, Riseon healed Theozsal, and he was so thankful he told her his life story, and she shared hers. Her dream drifted off as he explained the figurine, but returned full blast with her nestling into his arms.