Twilight fell on Nagrand, it's natural beauty touched by the shadowy fingers that began to fall, the majestic mountains to the east were alight with the eerie light cast by the setting sun, rivers that twisted and snaked through the region seemingly slowed as night pressed. Wolves began to howl as the moon rose over the horizon, insects chirped their love songs in the thick grass that carpeted the ground, the world came alive at this time, it seemed to breathe with the night. It was almost as though nothing could touch the ethereal splendor that Nagrand was, nothing could mar the hope that was tangible in everything, living and not. Artamisa appreciated this, the intricate cycle of life and death, of hope and disappointment, of every opposite there was, she could feel the same hope rising in herself, could breath the very life force of the land. Her own home was built on these things, a home built by her parents before their death at the hands of the scourge, life and death, happiness and anger, her life surrounded these simple things. Maybe that's why she came here, to escape the lonely lifestyle of being a ranger for hire, of being one of many, of being a pawn in a far more powerful person's game, it was a place of peace, untainted by memory. She intended to make some memories to live with, she would have to choose she knew, but she wanted to have something worth remembering besides death, besides the carnage that had been a large part of her recent life. The Lich King and his scourge had torn the world apart, killing thousands of innocents, of soldiers who, it was unfortunate that this is what pressed on her mind but it was hard to forget. The victory at Icecrown had been one for the books, bringing down his scourge minions before destroying him, but it was empty for her, all she felt was pain and grief.
Artamisa was here now, the Lich King was gone, she had to remember that this time was her own, she would choose her destiny from now on, she was no man's pawn unless she chose to be. It had been the right decision to take a sabbatical, 10 years of training and fighting had taken its toll and she needed the time to get to know herself, to release the pressure and tension and to finally just relax. Nagrand was certainly the place to do it, she thought to herself with a chuckle, it was beautiful. Maybe after her two months were up she would choose to stay here, build a family, finally settle down as not Artamisa the Slayer of the Lich King but Misa, the wife and mother. She breathed deeply of the humid air, feeling a slight layer of dew on her tanned skin, and turned back the home she had moved into only a week ago.
The house was small, only a two story structure with two bedrooms, both rooms being on the second story, she pictured that one room was for her parents and the other was for herself and her younger brother Fallen, she could almost see two small children running around the front yard, a pie sitting in the kitchen window that her mother had made, smoke curling out of another as her father smoked a cheroot, then sadness tinged her face, these things had never happened, her parents had never come to this place, she and her brother had barely set eyes on it after their untimely death. It wasn't painful to look here and know that her parents had strived to give them a life worth living, not that there's wasn't but she was sure that her parents hadn't wanted this for their two children. Slowing she walked towards the front door, her compact body moving quietly through the knee high grass with grace, her boots making crunching noises as she walked. Artamisa stared at the door for a moment before reaching for the knob, her hand touching it without feeling it, for she still wore her armor if only the leather armor. It felt more comfortable than the mail and cloth, and made her feel like herself more than anything else. Stepping inside the house she felt contentment, there was no sound, no arguing, no orcs to make a rucus, no undead, no blood elves, nothing, just silence. Silence had never sounded so good.
"Crusty? Where are you crusty? Do you want a fishy?"
The turtle responded by lifting its head from its sleeping pallet in the corner of the den, it stood, faster than a lot thought he was and she smiled as he came over to her, his claws making sounds on the wooden floor.
"Alright Crusty. Come on. Let's go get you a salted fish."
Crustybob was a turtle she had befriended in the Hillsbrad Foothills while working for the undead, he had been wounded and instead of killing him and taking his shell or his meat, she had brought him back to Tarren Mill and nursed him back to health, much to the derision of her brother. Ever since they had been best friends, Crusty fighting alongside her as she took out any enemies, he was really her only friend and companion, she repaid him for his friendship by feeding him a daily dose of salted fish that he loved so much. Artamisa led him to the kitchen and pulled a fish from a bucket and left it on the ground for him to eat, then walked up the stairs to her room and smiled as she walked into the room, it was the only room that was decorated with her in mind, the walls were painted a soft terracotta, the floor was wood with fur rugs covering it, the bed was a huge four poster with a red canopy and a huge armoire stood at the left of the room. Trinkets, nick nacks and little things she had collected over time were strewn over the armoire, nightstands, and racks she had put into the walls. Clothes hung from a rack, dresses, cloth robes, her tier armor that had cost her an arm and a leg they all hung in different sections on the rack. She went their now and pulled a nightgown woven from Mageweave and placed in on the bed, slowly she began to undress, pulling her leather knee boots down over her slim legs, yanking her leather leggings over long tanned legs after undoing her thick belt. Her leather vest was unbuttoned and thrown carelessly in the pile with the rest, next came her leather tunic and doublet imprinted with the Undercity logo, and finally her gloves and bracers.
Pulling the soft fabric over her body, she felt the scars on her hips, stomach and legs, she felt a certain kind of pain when touching this that went beyond the physical, she was ashamed of them knowing that any man wouldn't look at her as a woman but as a warrior, which worked in her favor in some ways. Artamisa yanked the hem down harder than she should of and heard a small stretching sound, she calmed herself and let the gown do it's work, it was enchanted with a soothing magic designed to relax the wearer into sleeping, but did not work in the light of day, when the morning rays of sun touched the gown the enchantment would wear off temporarily. Her next step of the night before sleeping was to have a glass of Dalaran wine she had procured as a relaxing agent, it had a faint sniff of alcohol but wasn't enough to intoxicate her. She pulled the flagon from her bag and poured into a small glass she had beside the bed, lying down on her big four poster bed, she could feel the muscles in her back slowly releasing, her mind begin to slow, her eyes begin to feel heavy, she took a sip of the yellow tinged liquid and smiled. This was the life, she decided, no need to worry or be upset, no missions or things that needed to be done as soon as possible, all she had to do was relax, breathe, eat good food and drink sweet wine. She placed the glass on the bedside table, now empty, and slid comfortably under the thick fur blankets, the crickets chirped outside her window, a sweet lilting melody of feeling, as she fell asleep.
It was only a few hours later when a banging came to the door, awakening her from a dreamless sleep she longed to return to, the sound was insistent though and would not be ignored, Artamisa roused herself from the large bed and searched blindly in the darkness for the wardrobe that held her robe, her hand came in contact moments later when she tripped on one of her rugs and caught herself on it. Opening it, she scrounged through the inside until she felt the fabric of her robe and whisked it out and around herself, the pounding continued, as well as a voice.
"Open the door! You have a message!"
"I'm coming! Hold your damn horses!"
She stumbled down the stairs in the dark and opened the door to find a tall human man standing in the doorway, light spilling his lantern on to his face, his hair a mess of blonde and brown curling around his rather handsome face, if one were interesting in humans. She lifted a brow and stood straighter, she did not recognize him and instantly was alert to every move he made, she looked him up and down, noticing even the smallest things about him. He was taller than she, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest, he wore no armor but a tunic made of white and silver, his face was young but showed signs of aging around his eyes, just the slightest hint of crows feet, laugh lines around his mouth which now was pursed in a disapproving and annoyed look.
"What do you want, human?" she said, leaning in the door.
"I'm here to deliver a message from Lady Sylvannas Windrunner, your presence is requested."
"How soon?"
"Immediately."
"Anything else?"
"No, Ma'am." He said the ma'am part with the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"What's your name, human?"
"Variyn."
"Named after your king, I presume?"
"Aye."
"If you wish to continue in this world, Variyn, I suggest you show some respect, it is rude for a messenger to show anything other than apathy to the receivers of his message."
He sputtered for a moment, his outrage showing clearly as his face began to redden. "How… how dare you! I am not just a messenger, you little blood elf twit! I will have you know that I am a Knight of the Argent Crusade!"
She lifted a brow in amusement over his outburst. "Really? A knight of the Argent Crusade, you say? Then you should show no emotion, especially not ones that will get you killed in battle, such as anger. But on another note, why is the Argent Crusade acting as messengers? Doesn't Tirion Fjordring have better things to do then be a postmaster?"
He leered. "I guess you'll just find out, Horde bitch."
She smiled and waved him away. "You can leave now." She said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
Artamisa shut the door in his face, his rage overcoming his better instincts, she did not want to have a fight, especially in her new home, and certainly not when she had many things to think about. What did Lady Sylvannas want now? She had requested time off and not two days into her actually time had her mentor called upon her, this must be an emergency if she were to interrupt her when she most needed it. She calculated that it would take up to five days to return to Undercity, five days spent on the back of a wyvern or her raptor, five days sleeping in an inn she would not be comfortable in, and five days that would bring her back to the one thing she needed a break from.
"I fear that I shall ever have a vacation." And with that she returned to her bed, and to the sleep she would need for this journey.
The next morning, the long fingers of dawn stretched out across the clouds, turning them blood red, they touched her closed eyes as though willing them awake, she felt the warmth of the morning inside of her room and smiled. Her eyes opened to reveal moss green irises, warm and softened with long black lashes fringed around them, her generous mouth curved into a smile she looked like a happy woman, a normal woman. No thoughts were in her head as she lay there, her body comfortably wrapped in her blanket, her long straight brown hair lying around her head in a halo, she breathed deeply and snuggled deeper into the bed. It was several moments later when the thoughts of today began to filter through her head that the smile turned into a flat line, her face went blank with annoyance and her warm bed suddenly didn't seem so comfortable and warm. Today was the day that she would have to leave this place, after only a few days, and go back to Undercity and would accept her next mission, that was not that a question, she would accept, she owed it to the Dark Lady to do as she asked.
Suddenly unable to get comfortable in her bed she sat up and slid out of bed, her feet touching the rugs, she sighed and stood up and walked to the dresser, she pulled her best armor, mail leggings that wrapped around her slim legs, undercity doublet, a breastplate made of only the best dragonscales in Azeroth, boots made by herself to be rocky steady even in the most unsteady ground, mail wrists that chaffed if not worn with some cloth underneath, gloves and even some jewelry that was enchanted to give her benefits befitting of her station. Finally, to top off the regalia, a helm made of turtle shell, it was a strange outfit for a regular person but on a warrior it was normal, she felt each piece and remembered things about special occurrences, the armor was more than just armor, it was a part of her routine, a part of her. She dressed slowly, and thought about the trip ahead of her, she would have to fly to Thrallmar for some supplies and then fly to the Dark Portal. She hated the Dark Portal, hated the feeling of being disintegrated and then put back together on the other side, it was a horrible feeling, but it was necessary to get to Undercity and she would do anything for the Dark lady. After the Dark Portal she would end up in the Blasted Lands, she would then mount and ride to Stonard in Swamp of Sorrows and then finally she would fly to Undercity. Five days to get there, that's about how long it would take.
Artamisa packed her bag that morning, and left only an hour later, mounting her undead horse and rode away into morning light.
"Rurin, may I speak to you alone?" Tirion Fjordring spoke in soft tones as to not be heard.
"Yes, sir. I shall be along soon."
"Thank you."
Rurin Shatterjaw was a contradiction, he was a paladin but was not holy, he was a fighter and healer but preferred to fight only as a last means, he was trained from a young age to be the best, but never strove for great glory. He was the man that everyone knew of through his actions and his unusual birth, but never used fame to get what he wanted, he believed in good old fashioned work which was why he was currently training a group of new recruits who wished to join the ranks of the neutral Argent Crusade. Too many young naïve faces would soon to turn bitter and old through the years, he hoped that they would not all lose their faith, their hope in victory, not like many of the veterans scattered around the camp. He learned that the only way to get by was to survive, and to retain the faith in life, in the continuation of the world, being raised by the scourge had taught him that life was precious, his training with Tirion had taught him the value of friendship and his hard work had taught him the need for hope, for life, for love. Everything he had, he earned, and this lesson that he had learned young, he would teach to these young men, show them everything that Tirion had showed him . It was a necessary part of training.
Rurin excused himself, ignoring the looks of adoration, of want and need, he walked away from it all and strode purposefully towards the Argent Crusade building with the intention of going to Tirion's working chambers. He wondered why Tirion had requested his presence, wondered why he had asked him in person even more, in the end it wasn't important but he still wondered, although not technically watching where he was going, he strode in the direction of his chambers, his feet moving automatically. When he reached the door, he rapped three times and waited for the reply.
"Enter."
He opened the door and walked in slowly, his head bowed. "Sir. You requested my presence."
"Rurin, I don't think you need to use formality."
He smiled. "Yes, Tirion."
"I just wanted to let you know that a few new very special recruits that I want you to train personally."
"Who are they?"
"I'll give you the full roster when I get it."
Rurin pondered that for a moment and was instantly suspicious. "This isn't one of those bodyguard things again, is it?"
"Bodyguard? Why would I hire a bodyguard?" Tirion grinned.
"Tirion." Rurin said warningly.
"It's nothing like that. I just want you to train them personally for the Argent Tournament and as potential recruits for the Argent Crusade, they are the best of the Horde and Alliance, sent to us by the Warchief, and King Variyn."
"No ulterior motives?"
"None, my boy." Tirion said affectionately.
"I don't believe you."
"I am an old man, Rurin, you think I have the capability to do anything you don't wish to be done?"
"You are not old. And you have the capacity to do anything you like."
"Rurin, I just want you to do this for me. Think of it as grooming for my position as the Leader of the Argent Crusade."
"Do you expect to die any time soon?"
"I don't hope to. But time has this funny habit of aging you, and I want to name you as my successor should anything happen."
"Should anything happen?"
"No need to worry, my boy, I don't intend to die. I just want loose ends tied up, things organized and any question of who I pick put to rest, it is important to me that you take my place."
"Yes, sir."
"Perhaps, since I will be formally announcing my decision soon, you should consider doing something else."
"Something else?"
"Shall I put it bluntly? You should consider the idea of getting a wife."
"A wife?" Rurin sputtered, and looked stunned.
"A wife. Plenty of eligible young ladies out there."
"None that I wish to pursue in the contract of marriage."
"You just haven't met the right one yet."
Rurin ran a hand through his long reddish hair and sighed, this was not an idea he wanted to think about in any detail, he lived a bachelor life and any idea to the contrary was put to rest when he saw how marriage worked out for others. He didn't need a fishwife carping at him through the years, he was still young! By the light!
"Tirion, put your fears and Ideas to rest, I shall do you proud."
"I knew you would."
"May I leave sir? I still have recruits to train before these new ones."
"You are dismissed."
"Thank you, sir."
Rurin left the room, a smile on his face, Tirion was old fashioned and probably didn't understand this new world around him yet, he didn't have to marry, he could just named a successor as Tirion himself had just done and continue to live the happy bachelor life he enjoyed. Wife, indeed.
Artamisa had enough of being on the road, she had had enough of sitting on a horse, or riding a zeppelin, or riding a bloody windrider, she was tired, cranky and dusty from the long trip, she had to fight and was late by 2 days to meet the Dark Lady. But she had finally arrived in Undercity, after arriving she placed her name on the roster for a night at the inn and sent a letter telling everyone that she would be late by one more day so that she could prepare for her meeting, a good night's sleep, a bath and some fresh clothes would sweeten her mood enough to meet the Banshee Queen. A response came not twenty minutes later, requesting her immediate presence, she sighed and took a quick bath to bathe the sweat, grime and dust from her body, after that she let her hair down after washing and let it air dry as she dressed. She wore a soft black gown that fit her like a glove and tapered down to her feet, upon those feet she wore black slippers and left the sparse jewelry on, a necklace, earrings and a few rings.
Dressed comfortably, and feeling confident, she walked out of the inn and made her way to the Royal Quarter which sat between the Apothecarium and the War Quarter, she knew that Lady Sylvanas was at the end of the long hallway. She walked the distance, waving and smiling to the few that she knew, most were confused by the fact that she was blood elf that was more just acquainted with the Dark Lady. She reached the end of the hallway and saw the Dark Lady in person, standing atop a dais, her typical outfit of close fitting leather and mail suited her perfectly, she looked menacing and sexy at the same time.
"Artamisa Grayer. How good of you to finally arrive."
"Lady Sylvanas. I am sorry for my lateness. I came from Nagrand as soon as your messenger arrived."
"I understand. Come with me. I wish to speak to you privately."
"Yes, my lady."
Artamisa followed her through a doorway to led to personal chambers, it was not unusual for Sylvanas to invite Artamisa here when she wished privacy away from her adoring fans.
"My lady, may I ask why you desired to see me?"
"I am deeply sorry that I had to ask you here after you requested time off, but things have changed. The Lich King is not our greatest enemy, but it appears another is on the horizon. Tirion Fjordring has asked me to gather 6 of the greatest warriors of the Horde, he asked me because of the Warchief's current change of scenery and Garrosh's tendency to be rash and…. How do I put it…. Ignorant. He would have picked a bunch of orcs, but I know you well enough to know that you shall pick only the best with no preference for race."
"You wish me to gather a band of warriors."
"Yes. The purpose is to protect the soon to be leader of the Argent Tournament. He is a young blood elf by the name of Rurin Shatterjaw. I think you may remember him from the fall of the lIch King?"
"There were many men there that day, I do not remember all by name or rank. I only remember the faces, the blood, the dead."
"It won't be a permanent station, you are needed for much more than that, but Tirion believes there to be a threat, and this is also our way of telling the Alliance we wish no battle with them."
"I will do as you wish, my lady."
"How long would it take you to get to the Argent Tournament in Icecrown?"
"Would you like me to gather my troupe first? Or go there as soon as possible?"
"You may send letters to your group, and I shall see that they are delivered as soon as possible, you are to report to Tirion as soon as possible. Do you know who you shall pick?"
"Aye, my lady."
"Tell me."
"Vitado, a troll Shaman. I believe he makes his way on the Echo Isles, now that they have been restored as Darkspear domain."
"Excellent."
"Fallen Grayer. A warlock, newly into power but is more than apt. He gained one of the most powerful guardians on his side."
"Your brother?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Continue."
"Tenso, a defected Death Knight, he was one the first to overcome the will of the Lich King, he has a great will and is very useful."
"Alright."
"Veanus, a blood elf paladin, not like most blood elves, and loves to fight."
"And that is the final choice?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Excellent choices. Report to me in the morning and I shall brief you on all aspects of this mission. You are dismissed, Artamisa."
"Thank you, my lady."
