A/N: There's a story behind this, LOL. Look, basically, every time I start playing a new alt on WoW, I come up with a story for them. These days, I write them out and post them here for your enjoyment. So...yea. To anyone waiting for Hellfire's next chappie, I hope this can hold you over for a bit...For the record, I do plan on it being a romance...it just fit into so many categories! Angst, tradgedy, hurt/comfrot, romance, drama, adventure...So I settled for the last two 'cause they're pretty broad xD
Onwards...
Candlelight flickered brightly, tiny beacons mounted atop tall scones and countless layers of melted wax. The warm glow illuminated grand, pale marble columns, floors, and walls that were pitted with simple yet gorgeous stained-glass windows, their colors muted in the night.
On any other eve, the wide hall would have murmured with strains of hymn and prayer, perhaps softly spoken chants or teachings in the smaller, bookshelf-lined rooms that diverged from it. Tonight, however, the sculpted cathedral was occupied by a reverent, hollow silence, broken only by harshly echoing footsteps and the whip-like snap of a cloak.
At the far end of the great cathedral hall, in front of a small rise of steps that led to up to a raised dais and the alter upon it, were three figures. One was slight and soft, womanly curves just showing in the mold of thick robes. Another, though just as tall, and perhaps near as thin as the former woman, was much different, clad head to toe in heavy armor, a greatsword sheathed across her back. The last of them towered far above the other two, chest alone nearly as broad as the woman might stand shoulder-to-shoulder; he too was garbed in armor, and a great hammer hung from his shoulders. Two Human women, and one Draenei man.
The warmth of the candles…reached none of them.
The armored woman was pacing in tense strides, her blood-red cloak cracking with each turn. Her posture was rigid with barely-contained tension, her features twisted into a snarl. In a sudden whirl she faced the other woman, her bright blue eyes quickened with a vindictive light in no way related to the mild radiance lighting the room. She stabbed a finger at the man, her arm rife with small tremors—of anger or fear, none knew.
"You cannot ask me to venture alongside that creature, that abomina—" She cut off as if choking, her jaw snapped shut around the words. But still, they hung in the hungry air.
Abomination.
"I will not work with this…man, Priestess. I beg you, reconsider." She finished in a visibly strained tone. The robed woman, the Priestess, stared at her solemnly, her sweet features smooth and reserved.
"'Tis not my will, Lady Dawnslayer. You know this. Do not turn from the Light."
The armored Lady Dawnslayer sneered, but her accusing hand fell.
"Priestess, I cannot do it. To trust in something inhuman, it cannot be condo—"
"Would you surrender so quickly, friend?" Finally, the man spoke. His voice was a deep, serene bass, a rumble made light with the unique tones of the Draenei. "You seek kure, redemption. To do this, you must walk in the Light, yes."
Dawnslayer went still, just for a moment, and then she was facing the Draenei, her enormous blade bared with a singing rasp.
"What do you know of the Light, creature?" She spat, raising the blade high above her, to his throat. Golden vapors misted around her fingers and wreathed up the sword's edge, and the righteous fire shining in her eyes flashed.
"Peace, friend." He said in the same gently urging tones. His only response was the biting edge of metal pressed against his neck.
A beautifully carved, gold-adorned staff clanged against the flat of the blade.
"Stop this, Lady Dawnslayer. You are a paladin. Do not turn your back on the Light." When the Priestess gained no response, she tried again. "This man is not only a fellow paladin, but my friend, and he is also an ally of the Alliance, as are the rest of his people. As High Priestess, I am ordering you, by the power given to me by the Church of Holy Light, stand down Dawnslayer."
"You need not say such things, my friend." The man admonished, raising his large hands in a placating gesture. "This friend is no threat."
Surprisingly, Dawnslayer laughed. It was a short, barking sound, full of spite, but it was genuine still. The Priestess shifted uneasily.
"For all your years, you are a great fool, creature, to think the wolf with its jaws around your throat means not to harm you." The man smiled at her, the smooth, deep planes of his face warping like molten rock.
"I do not think so, friend. I believe the wolf a wiser beast than many."
"Wisdom," Dawnslayer hissed, her previous humor fading like morning mist. "Does not temper instinct. And instinct demands survival. I shan't let myself be killed by one of you horse-footed demonkin."
The Draenei's face hardened in the blink of an eye.
"We are not Man'ari, girl. You would do well to remember that."
"And so the beast bears its fangs. I was beginning to believe the tales of your monstrosity a peddler's jape." Her lip curled. "It is satisfying to know my assumptions are founded, creature."
"I would call you friend, girl. You are rash, and your heart is full of rage and pain. These are things experience and compassion and time will heal; but you must seek them." Dawnslayer opened her mouth to speak, but he overrode her. "No. Enough insults. You seek to become Kurenai. You seek atonement in the Light. This needs respect, tenacity, and compassion. You have these no longer. You must reclaim them."
"That may be; but my atonement has nothing to do with the likes of you. I cannot be purified if I keep such corruption company."
"You say I am corrupt. As are you."
"You do not seek redemption, creature. You seek to shepherd me, and I am no sheep."
"No." He looked down at her, but her eyes would not meet his. They simply stared through him. "I am not here to lead you about, friend, though you would benefit from proper guidance. My presence is the will of the Naaru. O'ros granted me vision, and in it I saw you, and I knew that my future and your own were intertwined."
"I'll not condone you because your gods deigned it."
"The Naaru are not gods, friend. They are creatures of the Holy Light, and they are closer to it than any of us can comprehend." He brought his hand to the blade at his throat, but did not push it away. "Peace, friend. I beg you."
"Please, Lady Dawnslayer." The Priestess, previously forgotten, murmured.
Dawnslayer closed her eyes, her lips pulling back in a snarl. She tipped her head back, breathing deeply. In, and out. In, and out. In, and out…
She lowered her blade.
Shoulders slumped, greatsword hanging limp in her grip, she looked much smaller than she had.
"Why are you here, Draenei?" She asked tiredly, as if exhausted by the greatest of burdens. Her eyes had gone dark, and compared to their earlier brilliance they now seemed hollow.
"To save you." He said simply, and she barked another laugh, this one bitter and aged.
"You cannot save me. Nothing can."
"Then why are you here, attempting to do so?"
For the briefest of moments, she looked at him, her eyes flickering up…just one second…and then away.
"My reasons are my own, Draenei."
"As you say, friend."
"Do not call me 'friend'." She turned away, walking past the High Priestess, up the stairs, stopping before the alter.
"Then what would you have me call you?"
A pregnant pause…and then…
"Tenaebriis."
"Tenaebriis." He repeated softly, tasting the unfamiliar word that twisted oddly on his tongue. "Tenaebriis Dawnslayer."
"Yes." She replied, though it had been a statement.
"I am Luuxn. May the Light emrace you."
"And you." The response was quick, automatic perhaps.
"Lady Dawnslayer…?" The High Priestess trailed off, half-prompting, half-questioning.
"Laurena," She murmured. "I would have your forgiveness for my acts of violence in this hall. 'Tis not befitting a sanctuary of the Light."
None of them mentioned what she did not seem to regret. Perhaps, it was not expected.
"Of course, daughter."
"Thank you."
She stood there, before the alter, for a handful of minutes, and silence reigned. Her fingers would tighten spasmodically around the hilt of her weapon, but otherwise she was still. Her posture warred, her shoulders rising and falling in conflict.
And when they finally slumped, either in victory or defeat, she spoke again.
"Let us be gone, Draenei. I'll not linger."
"So be it." Luuxn said kindly, his benevolent demeanor returned. He looked down at the Priestess and nodded to her, smiling. "Good fortune to you, my friend. May the Light embrace you."
"Light bless you, Vindicator Luuxn."
Tenaebriis descended the steps, pausing briefly at Laurena's side. She laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Light bless you, High Priestess Laurena."
"Light bless you, Lady Tenaebriis Dawnslayer."
With that, the paladin sheathed her sword and walked from the Cathedral of Light, out into the darkness of the night.
And the Draenei followed.
125 Days Earlier
"Legionnaire." A young man garbed in raiment of red and white acknowledged, snapping into a respectable salute. The gangly fellow he'd been chatting with simply stared, and was sharply elbowed for it. "Fool! Show your respect!" His companion hissed at him. "That's one of the Crimson Legion!"
"Oh! Uh…L-legionnaire!" He stammered, eyes wide and fearful with the dawning prospect of having possibly just insulted someone far above his rank. The woman glanced at them as she passed.
"Crusaders."
With purposeful strides she continued towards the abbey, mounting the milky-pale steps to the sounds of Guardsmen hailing her.
Inside the abbey, she was greeted with the faces of several scarlet-clad priests, clerics, disciples, and defenders. At the head of them all was a woman armored in red and gold, a marked shield and a mace at her side. Her face, framed by stray auburn locks from her simple bun, may have been considered lovely, even youthful, if not for the alert, aged quality to it. She stood stiffly, militant, but her pretty, stern features slipped into a tempered smile as her eyes lit upon the newcomer.
The woman drew the great blade strapped across her back and dropped to one knee, bowing her head to the hilt of her sword before her in a knightly pose. In an even tone conveying the utmost respect, she addressed the auburn-haired commander.
"High General Abbendis." The general inclined her head slightly in return.
"Legionnaire Dawnslayer."
The High General raised a hand and waved away the others present, who paused but to salute before quickly marching out. When the last of them disappeared through the carved stone entryway, a true—and perhaps a tad mad—grin broke out across the general's features, and she extended her arm toward the prostrate Dawnslayer.
Dawnslayer stood swiftly and strode up the to the general, clasping her forearm tightly, smiling at her, and pulled her into a brief embrace. When they parted, the general took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length, studying her. After a moment's scrutiny, she crinkled her nose in an almost-dainty fashion.
"I so wish I could so time has not been kind to you, Tenaebriis. Evidently, it has been much kinder to you than to me."
"Nonsense!" Tenaebriis laughed. "That mad sneer of yours is as beautiful as ever, Brigitte."
"You won't be laughing when I have you named a traitor." Brigitte Abbendis muttered tersely, but the good humor lingering on her lips took away any malice. Tenaebriss sighed softly, stepping away from the general.
"Time has not been kind to you, old friend…" She paused, and sighed again. "Eight years…You have my condolences. I am sorry. Your father was a brilliant, honorable man. He knew the truth of the Light." Brigitte's visage darkened.
"Thank you, Teneabriis. But that was eight years past, and I'll not ressurect those ghosts now." Her eyes were dancing steel. "No, I'd much rather bury the world in the ashes of those damned corpses. Eight years they have known the fire of Holy Light for what they've done, and for many more will they burn for it."
"Aye. We shall smite those unholy creatures all, and have back our homeland."
The High General clasped a hand on her friend's shoulder, but now the bare smile she gave was grim and set.
"It is good to have you here, Tenaebriis. One of the Crimson Legion! Your skill will purge hundreds alone."
"Thousands. And many more." Her tone was black, vicious with the zeal of such dark promise.
"And many more." Brigitte agreed. "Go. Find Valdemar. Speak with him, and afterward, rest. We've much to do."
"Yes, High General." Tenaebriis bowed her head, stepped back, saluted once more, and left.
Dear Lucaius,
I arrived at Tyr's Hand today, Brother. Brigitte is here. Brigitte Abbendis. Remember her? I know you do...you fancied her, you told me so!
She's a hard woman now, Brother. Strong. I admire her. She's High General now, did you know? You must. Her father would be with you. You were both such good men.
Brigitte and I will fight for you. We have been, and we will continue to do so until the Scourge are annhiilated. Once that is done, I can join you. Finally, we can see each other again.
I miss you, Brother. But I must be strong. I will see the Light brought to Lorderan. For you, Brother. For you, I must be strong. I pray to the Light that I can be as stronger as Brigitte is. She is so righteous. It burns in her. The flames leap in her eyes and I believe she will truly smite the undead monsters.
But my heart, Brother...It feels as if a hot coal in my chest. The fire is flickering, Brother. I think of you, and the flames roar, they do. But it seems as if even as I burn everything around me, I cannot feel their heat. As if I too am dead.
Perhaps I died with you Brother. I suppose it is a good thing I will burn this when I send it to you. These words are traitors to the Crusade and myself.
Take care, Brother.
A/N: Could reeaally use some tips from anyone who RP's a draenei. I've been reading guides, but it's hard. =/
Reviews are love! XD Thanks for reading, my dears.