Azure eyes pierced into the stone wall ahead of them. The off-white bricks were speckled with copper-tinted markings, and the occasional vulgarity singed or runed into the wall. Isarai refrained from offering herself or Ruthios a running commentary, as they were soon to be greeted.
The two were sat in a pair of creaky wooden chairs positioned against the opposing wall, nestled crudely in the backroom of one of Dalaran's many bookstores. Isarai turned to Ruthios. She couldn't tell whether or not he was looking at her, as the half of his face she could see was deadpan through the deep scars marring his face, which had only through the recent years began to show signs of age, and the eye of that side obscured by a singular, mechanical goggle. He seemed to be looking straight on like she had been, until he gently grazed his leather-clad elbow into hers. The corner of his lips upturned into one of his rare half-smiles that was meant to be reassuring.
Isarai leaned in a little closer, her messy, tousled blonde hair swayed with the movement, resting slightly on Ruthios' broad shoulders as her plump lips parted with the vaguest of movements, her delicate voice but a whisper for his human ears only, yet still too loud for comfort for her elvish ones. These very ears diipped in an attempt to ease her own paranoia of being louder than what she wanted. "Why are we here?"
Ruthios' shrugged, the motion itself causing the strand of hair to slink back from his shoulder and back to Isarai's own. He had no words, but his posture and another graze from his elbow told the little elf to be patient. She felt herself pout, but resisted the urge to sigh and instead tightened the fold of her arms, mimicking Ruthios' posture.
He smirked, which lasted but a second as the bookcase to the right of the duo shifted with a groan, exposing a deep hole in the building. Isarai's slender brows shot up in vague surprise. She gave Ruthios a questioning look, but he was already half-way through the newly discovered entrance. With haste, she followed until she was in the comfort of his heels.
The cave was just that; dark and decrepit. Isarai began to feel uneasy as various thoughts of the cave giving way on them, trapping the duo beneath the rubble and choking them of their last breaths. Her breath hitched as she fought the claustrophobia, with Ruthios shooting her only one concerned look, before turning forward again and following the pathway. He had heard vague rumours circulating the seedy underground of Dalaran, yet never had the pleasure to experience it himself. Though, he could've sworn they were sewers, and not caves. This little mystery-tinged fact caused him to instinctively cup his course fingers around the hilt of the sword at his hip, even as a dim light ahead of them became evident, exposing jagged rocks pointing down at them from the roof of the cave's tunnel.
They reached the end and looked down into a small pit, surrounded by the very same jagged rocks. It faintly resembled illustrations of the Orcish fighting rings that Isarai had been shown by an elderly gentleman who claimed to of lost his pinkie toe upon stubbing it against one of the 'blasted things', an attempt to swindle Isarai from kicking tables in a strop for the future. It worked. She didn't want to lose any of her toes, and had ceased to kick tables since.
The same hesitancy caused Isarai to climb with care into the pit, still acting as Ruthios' shadow. She blinked her blue eyes in an owlish manner as she looked around, trying to ignore Ruthios' disgruntled glower. Though, he remained quiet.
Isarai took another moment to peek out from behind him, looking up, down and around. She eased her weight from one foot to the next, her ears pointed to the ceiling in an effort to listen out for any sign of life. Intelligent, or otherwise.
Impatience irked her core, causing her to adopt the same look of irritability as her mentor. She gave him a look. Can we go already? She wanted to ask.
Ruthios seemed to understand, and shared the same feeling of annoyance at his time being wasted. Just as he rolled his shoulder in gesture for her to head out first, an unworldly growl emitted from the shadows of the way they came. The two looked up to see a distorted creature, who's face was made up of that of long rows of pointed teeth and singular, sharp claws for feet. It was spiked and it's skin scaly and blood red, with a tangled, shaggy mane along it's back. It's tail swished back menacingly, before it let out of another gurgled cry. It hurtled forward, all teeth bared.
Isarai felt herself freeze, while Ruthios charged straight into the fight. He aptly swung his sword and slashed at the felhound's right front leg. It let out a pained cry, and tried to snare Ruthios's head between it's jaws. The human flung himself back, granting the creature a bash to the side of his head with his shoulder in response, offering his own menacing snarl. The beast's tail whipped through the air blindly, whipping Ruthios with such a force that his body tumbled back.
Isarai squeaked and began to move forward to Ruthios' aid, only for the beast's body to quiver, it's 'snout' turned up into the air. Immediately, it's mane hackled and the creature looked in the little elf's direction. Her blue eyes widened. She remained still, but the felhound released another guttural roar and charged.
Isarai's hand flew to one of the pouches at her flank, throwing it down to the ground and swarming her in a hazy fog. Upon inhaling, the felhound recoiled and wheezed, it's 'snout' pointed to the ground as it haplessly scuttled around for it's prey, only for Ruthios' sword to impale itself through the length of the felhound's chest just as the human's feet met the beast's back. Another cry followed, this one pained, which only intensified as Ruthios' sword emitted a golden glow even from inside the creature. It's scales crackled, oozing fel and rays of Light before the creature began to disintegrate into an ashen husk, it's cry bouncing off of the walls and causing Isarai's ears to twitch and lower as the fog discarded through the Light, exposing her form. Ruthios' spotted her, and immediately wrenched his sword out of the creature before it fully had time to smoulder, leaving but a pile of ashes in it's wake.
Isarai stared at the creature, then at Ruthios', who approached with a concerned scowl. She thickly swallowed and got to her feet, not bothering to dust the dirt from her kneecaps.
"Bravo, brava," A sly hiss of a voice emitted. The two looked but could not see in any direction as the world around them dwindled, the jagged points, the pit and the cave shifting into a different form: a room, with spectators of various faces and races, whom all stood with a mixture of expressions. Some impressed, others not so much.
Isarai felt herself slouch, instinctively taking her place at Ruthios' heel, her form barely visible from his flank, peeking out just enough to see the speaker.
To call him a man would be far from the truth for either her or Ruthios. For he stood with a duo of horns sprouting from atop of his head, pointing up and outwards much like a stag's. His body was crackled and naked from the waist-up, with a dim flow of fel seeping from between the cracks, with an even brighter glow emanating from the tattoos decorating his chest, illuminating the faint curvature of various muscles. But what caught Isarai the most were his eyes; visible even beneath the simple black blindfold, with the same fellish glow radiating from these, slithering upwards like green smoke.
"Valein," Ruthios almost spat, then his eyes crossed over the other figures. His eyes narrowed deeper at the realisation that there was not one but four Blood Elves amongst the company. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"The only pleasure owed was granted with that impressive display, Mr. Blythe," The Illidari coo'd in Common. His grin was coy, and his arms moved to fold themselves across his broad chest, which he seemed to puff upwards. "And of course, the pleasure that comes with greeting the little lady. The orphan elf you took into your care, I assume?"
A derisive snort came from one of the Sin'dorei standing at the back. Isarai couldn't help but take notice of the typical elvish beauty: soft, silver hair that was perfectly clipped and primped into an elaborate up-do, the falling tousles the most delicate of ringlets yet so firm and poised in their hold, barely grazing her creamy shoulders which were left exposed by a halterneck, the collar lacey and gold, exposing the silky skin underneath which curved into two soft mounds, which deepened into a red love heart bust, flowing regally into a floor-length gown, which seemed to flow along the length of her long legs despite there being no breeze. The sleeves were off-shoulder, disguising her frail arms which were held at her front, one hand clasping the other as she looked at the human and the Quel'dorei with a look of disgust. Her nose was pert, her eyes a stunning emerald, and her lips the colour of roses and still as lush even in their sneer. Her chin was as sharp as her gaze. The lavish gold belt tied the outfit together and seemed to cup her dress flatteringly to her slim, slender figure. Isarai inwardly shrivelled, though fought to not show her insecurity in her expression, offering the beautiful elvish woman a look of her own.
"The one and only," Ruthios answered for Isarai, the pride not stifled in his voice as he, too, shot the red-clothed elf a look. "It has been a long time."
"Too long," Valein agreed with a smile, then elaborately dismissed the topic with a wave of his clawed hand. "No matter. Meet your new comrades."
"Comrades?" Isarai whispered, mostly to Ruthios.
"My, it has a tongue after all," The red-clad elf spoke again. Just as expected, her voice was as beautiful and lulling as her apparel.
"A sharp one, when provoked," Ruthios both assured and warned her.
"Then they'll get along just fine," Valein drawled out with a chuckle. "Now, if we would all like to introduce ourselves, perhaps tell our new friends a little about each other." The Illidari shot the elven mistress an amorous grin, who upturned her nose. "Very well," Valein grunted, and rolled his eyes. "I introduce Lady Dawngrave. She specialises in the research of the dark arts, and is a renowned scryer."
"Renown baby-muncher, more like," A muttered voice emitted, followed by a few select snickers. Isarai looked towards the voice, but merely saw the grumpiest of female orcs, clad in spikes and metal, with her arms folded across her chest and her fists clenched. Isarai looked back to the Valein before she found a way to anger the Orcess.
Lady Dawngrave hissed what Isarai could only presume to be an insult in the Elven tongue she never thought to learn. For this reason, it fell on deaf ears, but even the little Quel'dorei could sense it's malice.
"Play nice, ladies," Valein warned. He looked at the Orc. "You, go."
The Orc sneered from behind her tusks, one of which was chipped. Her skin was a deep grin and littered with scars and slashes, some recent, some visibly old. She held a shortsword and a mace at either flank. Isarai only just noticed the tattoos on the orc's muscular body, poking out through the aspects of her armour. "Karona. Orc. I go smash with my fists, swing a mace, and occasionally jab shit."
She gained a few chuckles, though Ruthios simply tilted his head with curiosity as the other voices spoke up, one by one.
"Chyri Ala'nor," Another elf spoke up, this one soft-spoken with a kind smile, which brought out the dimples in her plump cheeks. She offered a slight nod to everyone gathered. She had choppy, shoulder-length brunette hair with a fringe that she swatted from obscuring one of her eyes. Her skin was tanned and she was clad in beige and black armour that allowed for flexibility rather than protection. She wielded a bow, so Isarai could only assume she was a markswoman of sort. "Farstrider foremost, family disappointment second." Chyri, too, was offered a chuckle or two, though mostly a sneer of Lady Dawngrave's behalf.
A Night elf was next. Her bluish skin and silver eyes made her stand out in the crowd. She was smaller than most Night Elves Isarai had seen, but just as mesmerising. Her eyes were framed with wing-like tattoos, spraying across her temples and dancing just along her cheekbones. Her mane was a deep navy, and tumbled neatly to her hips. Her voice was soft, just like Chyri's, but seemed as warm and welcoming as a mother's lullaby. "Myhlea, here," She offered with a wave of one of her toned arms, causing her clean, white robes to tousle, with a rope-like material clinging the thin material to her body around her waist in a modest fashion. Isarai noticed the material was actually patterned, barely visible with small, silver studs, forming various swirls and curls along the length of the dress, causing her to feel suddenly very underdressed. "I am one of the Sisterhood, but I offer my services as a healer to the public. I often spend most of my time within the infirmaries of Stormwind." Ruthios gave her a respectful nod, then looked onwards.
"Twinkles," a pig-tailed, pink-haired, pixie-like gnome sang out with a chime. "I'm may be short, and I might be stubby, but I can shoot a sparrow without the bow and arrow." The gnome looked at Chyri. "No offence, chicken."
"None taken," The elf assured with a chuckle.
Isarai couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the next elf; of course, his eyes shone with fel, but contrarily seemed soft and warm. His chocolate brown hair cascaded down to the length of his shoulders, choppy in nature. His clothes, like her own, were primarily that of leather, and his shirt loose-fitting and sleeves cuffed. He wore a waistcoat, which made him look scrubbed up despite the faint markings of ink, oil and dirt. His jaw was sharp, coated by a gathering of cropped stubble. He was well built and teetering just at the tall-end of medium height, yet he still likely towered Isarai. His shoulders were broad, perhaps not as broad as the male next to him, but this male seemed catered more to agility and speed than brute strength. His gaze caught Isarai's, causing her to snap her eyes back to the floor as he spoke, his voice, though tinted with the usual of Thalassian gaze, was rougher and Common-laced. Her ears twinged with familiarity. "Avir," He said, his tone smooth and not clear of any decipherable emotion. "I'm not an alcoholic," He reassured. Some chuckles, again. Isarai's brows plucked upwards. "I'm a blacksmith." He spoke simply, concluding with a shrug before looking to the elf at his side.
This one was tall, broad, and the living epitome of warrior. For an elf, his muscles bulged and heaved, his broad chest rising with each breath and his body coated with decorative plate. His hair was the colour of gold, intercepted by a singular strand of deep, onyx hair braided into his own, his blonde beard thick with days old stubble. He wore various insignias, and his voice was as stern and grumpy as his expression, his eyes hawk-like. Across his back was a long, big, and presumably very sharp sword. "Anirion Sunstrike. Bloodknight."
Another Night Elf spoke up. He had striking silver hair, blue skin and faintly golden eyes. He was broad and tall, and clothed himself in simple leathers. His smile was warm and his voice deep, though it seemed to melt pleasantly on Isarai's ears. "Hi, I'm Kailen, and I'm a Sentinel of Darnassus. A pleasure to meet you all."His eyes bounced to each individual of the group, and Isarai took notice how he even regarded her, almost surprised to see his smile hold in place for her and the other kin-elves.
"And I am Valein, your fabulous leader!" Valein cackled, then composed himself. "If I do say so myself. Welcome."
"Charmed," Lady Dawngrave said with a kurt roll of her eyes. "Pray tell us why a lady found herself mandatorily having to concede her right to afternoon tea to be introduced to these… people. Or lack of." The noblewoman hissed, barely peeking from the corners of her eyes to the high elf. Isarai grit her teeth.
Valein clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pointing a fingergun at Lady Dawngrave. "That is a fun story yet to be told! But I'll give you the spoilers, for bein' pretty and all." He grinned, ignoring the pure expression of disgust on her face. He waved his hand out. "You have all been carefully selected to take part in my own personal anti-Legion movement. We may be small, but each of you have been selected for a crucial purpose and skill. We have our own mission and our own victories to uphold in the battle to save Azeroth."
"And what of my deployment back to the Broken Shores?" Anirion questioned with a perk of a slender, golden brow. "And what do the Illidari have to say to this?"
"Oh, they love a good suicide mission," Valein snickered, then looked at Myhlea as her eyes popped open. "I'm kidding. Totally kidding. Just don't die, and, y'know… safe. Real safe. Well, not really, but you get the jist of it. Cool beans?"
Myhlea's own brows furrowed inwards, her face a pure look of confusion. "Beans…"
The Illidari brushed himself off. "Speaking of, you should all go and get your provisions packed."
"And if we refuse?" Karona was the next to speak, her yellow-rimmed eyes narrowing into slits. Valein grinned at the challenge, approaching her with his own seedy stare, even without the eyes. He reached up to tousle one of the short braids of her purple hair.
"Well, your superiors will not be happy with your refusal to aid Azeroth in favour of supporting the Legion," Karona glowered. "Of course, I'm aware that is not the case but… why else would you refuse this once in a lifetime gig?"
"Aside from it being the one and only gig, with the risks at stake?" Avir tilted his head, the words slipping off his tongue in a manner that did not come across as challenging, but simply curious.
"Reputation tells me you are one to love a fight, Sunborne." Valein quipped back. "I hope this notion in fact precedes you, as I and the Illidari do not like to be disappointed or made a fool of."
Isarai felt her teeth nibble into her plump lower lip. Ruthios seemed to notice her discomfort, rolling his shoulder in a subtle way to graze the back of his hand against her arm. She looked at him, and he caught her glance. He didn't need to say the words for her to understand. It will be okay. She felt herself relax and took a deep, silent breath.
"Now, provisions, everyone! Travel light. Necessity over quantity," Valein's voice rang, waving his hand as a vault opened up in the opposing room, a dim, magical glow exposing what Isarai assumed were portals. The group began to filter out, with Ruthios walking ahead before Isarai. She started to follow, only for Valein to clamp his talon-adorned hand upon her dainty shoulder, causing her to audibly squeak. The group hesitated and turned to face the two.
"You still haven't introduced yourself, Little Lady." The Illidari hummed, tilting his head with a look of intrigue. "And likewise, I was not able to do my research on you. Mr. Blythe keeps you well hidden in that ivory tower."
Isarai could feel the scowl twitch at her lips. All eyes turned on her, causing to feel uncomfortable. She sucked in a breath. "Isarai Blythe."
"Nuh uh," Valein said. "I ain't buyin' that. That's not the name they call you. What is it again?"
Isarai clamped her mouth shut. Luckily, Ruthios spoke in her favour. "Shadowdancer."
"How quaint," Lady Dawngrave mockingly lulled.
"And powerful," Ruthios' added, his tone sharp. He placed his own hand on Isarai's shoulder, reeling her more towards him and away from Valein. The Illidari backed off by lowering his hand and instead folding his burly arms.
"Is that so?" The Illidari's tone was one of interest. "Powerful enough to face the Legion?"
"Impeccably." Ruthios quipped. Isarai's eyes bounced back and forth between the two. She did not take pleasure in being between the two of them.
"Very well," The Demon Hunter smirked, glancing Isarai as the others began to move once more. "I look forward to seeing you in action, Shadowdancer." And with that, the Illidari trailed after the other comrades.
Isarai gave Ruthios a questioning look, but he shook her off. "Come. Those provisions won't pack themselves." She did not fight this, following her mentor's footsteps through to the next room, and through the portal to Stormwind, leaving with as much clue over the situation as they had arrived with.