Izarian took a heavy was sitting on the stairs by Curiosities & Moore looking at all the adventurers passing by, hoping for the chance to prove themselves on the Broken Isles. Just looking at them made her exhausted. She had been like them once, but eventually, it wore her down just like it would them. Or maybe not, who knew. Emeilla didn't seem to tire out, and now look at her, Huntmaster of Trushot Lodge. But all Izarian wanted now was to walk around, take in the sights, and work her trade. She felt for the satchel of jewelery on her side. It wasn't very big, but it held some different colored pieces for sale. A necklace or two here, some rings there, even a nicely cut gem from a Dawnlight that she expected to fetch a pretty copper.
The Draenei pulled her slender tail into her lap. She was hoping they would all sell pretty good, at the very least. She hadn't been to the Broken Isles in weeks. Her gold was running low, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going the way she had. At this rate, I'll have to sell off some of my furniture, or even some of my prized armaments. She shuddered at that thought. She didn't want it to come to that. Many of those held dear memories of hers, memories that meant little to anyone else save those with her at the time. She let go of her tail and reached a hand up to her spear, drawing it out of its harness and holding it out in front of her a moment. She didn't remember where exactly she found it. She remembered that she was in Ulduar at the time, but she didn't remember exactly where in the sprawling compound she picked it up. Its dull bronze head thrummed with the power of the Titans, a yellow glow emanating from the center of the spearhead. She took a moment longer before replacing it within the harness strapped to her back.
Izarian glanced into the shop and checked the time. It was getting late and she needed to sell these items before the day ended if she wanted to make it throughout the week. Slowly stretching her legs, she pushed herself off the ledge she was sitting on. She hit the ground with a light clatter of hooves on cobblestone and straightened up. She took another moment to stretch again and walked down towards Greyfang Enclave. Out of all the places to peddle her wares, she found that Stormwind was the easiest and most lucrative of the major cities. Adventurers new and old went through the city every day, as well as being the Alliance capital, made sure there were peddlers on every street. It was for this reason that Izarian bought a house in the city. It wasn't impressive, of course, but it was better than having an alcove aboard the Exodar, especially now that it was being repaired. Izarian finally reached the interior of the Enclave and felt herself instinctively walk towards the stairs leading up. She had to stop herself from climbing the stairs to the portal that sat atop the small flight of stairs. The portal to Light's Hope Chapel glowed with holy light. Izarian had to take a step back and shake her head. She hadn't been to Light's Hope in a longer time than she had been avoiding the Broken Isles. Too many people there were trying to kiss up to Highlord Snowdon for her liking. Not to mention all those stuck up recruits who worshipped the ground she walked on. Just thinking of it made Izarian's head hurt. She obviously felt the connection to the Light, but those in the SIlver Hand were just a little too much even for a Draenei like her.
Izarian reflected to herself a bit, losing herself in her own head. She hadn't felt a strong connection to the Light in quite some time. Of course, she still believed in Its guidance just like any other of her race and others, but in recent years the connection was beginning to lessen. She was still able to use the Light's judgement and Its justice still coursed through her like a weapon smiting a foe, but the connection she once felt to It most definitely was waning. Thinking back, she tried again to think on when this started to dissipate, but she couldn't quite put a finger on the exact time. Her excursions in her own past on Draenor was definitely a catalyst, though. Izarian shook her head and broke out of her repreve. There was no sense in thinking on it now when she would just be kept up by it later when she went to sleep. With a snap, Izarian turned around and walked directly to the portal to Stormwind and entered.
Izarian never liked the experience of using portals, but they were by far the best mode of travel if one could find a mage willing enough to make them. Within seconds of entering the portal in Dalaran, she was standing inside a mage tower in the Mage Quarter of Stormwind. She quickly left the tower, the sounds of her hooves echoing off of the stone interior of the tower. It wouldn't bother her, except for the fact that it was nearly empty in the tower. Strange… Izarian thought to herself as she breached the final door to the tower and took in a long breath of fresh air. Exhaling slowly, she looked over the town. The Mage Quarter was eerily devoid of chatter, though usually you could hear a group of mages chatting loudly with each other almost insistently. Izarian shrugged and started off to her small home in Old Town. She exited the Mage Quarter and crossed the bridge to the Trade District when she heard a crowd of voices yelling nervously. Intrigued but also a little scared, Izarian walked into the Trade DIstrict. When she finally found the crowd, she was astonished to find that it was much larger than she gave it credit for, and all of them were trying to read the call board. There was no way she could ever get close, so she started asking her fellow citizens trying to get a closer look.
"What is all the commotion about?" she asked a young Human girl, no more than twenty years of age.
"I don't quite know myself," The girl replied, "But i hear it's something to do with the garrisons on Draenor. Something about The portals being closed suddenly." Izarian froze up a moment. Closed? But doesn't that mean…." She felt her heart drop out of her chest. She couldn't get back. She couldn't see the resplendent hills of Draenor anymore. She thanked the girl and walked home in a daze.
She had once thought about staying. Why hadn't she stayed when she had the chance? Brooding on the thoughts of never returning to those verdant fields, Izarian found herself walking through her front door. How fast had she been walking to make it here so quickly? She didn't know, nor did she really care. As she entered the house proper, she lit the lantern by the door and loosened the straps on her gauntlets, flinging them down on the floor. If there was one thing she never did like was wearing such heavy plate armor. While it undoubtedly strengthened her back and shoulders, it was hard to move in easily and quickly. There was no use for it now, however, since it was all the armor she owned was plate armor. She shed her breastplate,weapon included, and hung it on a makeshift armor stand. She did the same with her grieves and legguards and soon slumped into a small wooden chair so as to better examine the works she made at Cartier and Company Fine Jewelry. Opening the satchel, she gradually pulled out each piece and examined them, turning them over in her hands repeatedly. They were very good, if she was being a little indulgent for a bit. The gem cuts were angled and sharp, but also smooth enough to let the eye trace them. Tucking them back into the satchel and throwing on some more comfortable clothes, she walked over to her bed and sat on it. A small nap wouldn't hurt, i think. She Thought about laying down right then and there, but before she could, there was a banging on the door. Curious, she ambled wearily to the door and opened it.
"Starcaller Izarian, I have a message from his majesty King Anduin Wrynn." A gruff human snapped to attention and saluted Izarian. "He requests your presence in the throne room of Stormwind Keep immediately." The man handed over a letter with the Wrynn house seal attached to it.
"Thanks you, Sir." Izarian replied softly, returning his salute with one of her own, albeit less enthusiastically. "I will be there as soon as I am capable." She took the letter, not intending to read it, and started to shut the door. "And one last thing, sir. I am no longer called the Starcaller."