Kil'ruk raised his gaze as he felt that foreign presence approach. He had to admit he was surprised to see that strange creature returning, yet he expected her to. It had come as a relief to hear the cries of his enemies as their spirits were vanquished, at least he had felt safer for the time being.
He said nothing as she came closer, only looked at her warily from behind his mask.
"I brought what you asked," she said as she held forth a sack of sort. Taking both his blades in one hand he accepted and opened it. Inside lay a good amount of sapflies, enough for him to be able to fly his way to Klaxxi'vess, he guessed.
"This will do," he said before starting to feed. He could feel his strength returning with every bit of their sap running down his throat. It didn't take long for him to empty the sack, he wasn't fully recovered but as he had guessed it was enough. He looked upon the stranger as he straightened up. "I heard their screams," he stated. She didn't answer but he knew she took pleasure in killing the mogu – dead as alive – no matter her reason. "We have a common enemy in the mogu. And perhaps others." He released his occupied hand from one of the swords. "We shall see."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her gaze suspicious. She held fear for him and his kind, good. All should fear them.
"I must report to the Klaxxi," he said, ignoring her question, as he watched her for a moment. "You have not been entirely useless. The council may even find a use for you."
Her expression amused him; her eyes wide with a slight crease on her forehead, her gapping mouth and stuttering proved her surprised, maybe even chocked. "W-What?" she got up.
"Surely you are here for a reason, and I believe you have one for helping me as well."
"Yes, I- I suppose." Why did this lesser creature speak with such lack of confidence? "The council... that's what the Klaxxi is?"
Kil'ruk regarded her. It came as no surprise to find she annoyed him, considering her way of speaking and what she was, but for some reason he found her interesting and he knew very well the Klaxxi would want to know what had happened. And to meet this Wakener of his, he thought bitterly.
Judging by her curiosity he should be able to lure her with him, instead of taking her by force – even if he very much would like the latter better, in his current state it would be unwise to overstrain himself. "If you are so curious about us, I will tell you more on the way to Klaxxi'vess." Eagerness lit in her pupil-less eyes, proving his theory right, although her face remained full of anxiousness. "Otherwise, leave me to my work," he added harshly and spread his wings with a speed that made her flinch and quickly take a step back.
"No," she almost exclaimed, to his satisfaction. For a little too long she stood silent, something that annoyed him. "I- I'd like to come with you."
"Good. Get up." He motioned to his back and after several seconds she hesitantly walked around him and climbed up, gripping about his shoulders. "I am Kil'ruk," he said as he took to the skies, "a warrior from an era long passed." Though she was a lesser being, she had earned the right to know who he was. She wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone about him anyway.
He motioned over the ruins as he continued, "In my time this was a mogu stronghold. It was my honor to paint the walls with their blood. For my deeds I was named a Paragon. A hero to be preserved in amber for a time when the empire would need... correction." He expected his passenger to speak, but she kept silent as if her words would make him throw her off. Not entirely false, he admitted; the thought was rather tempting.
His antennas twitched as he saw the terrible scar stretching through the land, the trees tainted trunks and the seeping power emitting from them as well as the ground made his heart beat faster. What had happened here? He clicked his mandibles a few times before he reluctantly decided to ask, "Wakener, what power is this that burns our land and corrupts our trees?" After all she was from this time, she should hold some kind of answer.
"That's sha," she answered, he could practically hear her swallow hard and fear lingered in her voice. "An ancient power hidden deep within Pandaria. It's a manifestation of negative emotions."
She might have been about to add something but before she managed terror shot through him as his gaze fell upon what appeared to be the reason for his wakening, "The palace!" he exclaimed. The once amber-orange structure was now of the same sick color as the trees and land, even the buildings wore the black and white of this "sha". "This is... not our way!" What had happened here? How could the Empress allow this to happen? Indeed he understood why the Klaxxi had been forced to act. Had this "sha" somehow affected the Empress?
"Who are they?" the stanger asked, breaking the heavy silence between them. "The Klaxxi."
"They are a council of our wisest cultural leaders," he answered without taking his eyes of the horror before them. "They serve to check the power of the Empress."
"The power of the Empress?" the Wakener echoed.
"Yes." During other circumstances he would've snapped at her, but he forgot all of that and instead explained; if the Klaxxi found her useful it would be best for her to know, and if they didn't... Well, she wouldn't be telling anyone about it. "Should the Empress ever fall to corruption or endanger our civilization, the Klaxxi are sworn to unseat her." He was silent for a moment, awaiting her to question something, as he set course to the appearing Klaxxi'vess – the place in which the Klaxxi ran their operation, ever keeping watch of the Empress' moves. He touched ground before a Klaxxi'va whom was – as the other klaxxi'vas – whispering into the large resonating tower, communicating with other beacons throughout the land.
He cast a glance at the softskin who hesitantly climbed off his back. "This is a sacred meeting place for the Klaxxi," he said quietly. "It would be wise of you to let me do the talking." She nodded her understanding and just then the wing-less Klaxxi'va before them spoke, "Wind-Reaver. You have awakened." The Klaxxi'va swept with his gaze around them. "What of Klaxxi'va Tik?"
"And what is this filth you've brought to our sanctuary?" a flying Klazzi'va to the left hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the newcomer.
Kil'ruk saw the stranger swallowing and taking a step back as she gazed up at the flyer. "The Klaxxi'va you sent has fallen to an adjunct of Her majesty," he answered the grounded before turning his gaze to airbourne. "This... "filth" defeated the adjunct and saw to my Wakening."
"We do not need help from the lesser races!" the flyer spat. "Dispose of it!"
Without showing emotions Kil'ruk set his gaze on his Wakener, meeting her terrified gaze. "Right away, Klaxxi'va," he said. Taking his first step toward her he halted when the first Klaxxi'va spoke, "No. The Wakener may prove useful." The Klaxxi'va's eyes set on the blue skinned creature and added, "One way or another."
"As fodder for the swarm perhaps," the flyer snorted. His gaze darted angrily at the Wakener.
Not minding the flyer's comment Kil'ruk looked at the soft-skin before motioning with his head for her to get moving. Anxiously she moved and he turned his attention to the Klaxxi'vas, ready to be informed what had to be done, and what would happen to the Wakener.
She felt so small where she walked. The Wind-Reaver was almost twice her length – his bent forelegs, which were of the length of her legs, ending by her forehead – but he was short in comparison to the Klaxxi'va whose height was that of an eredar, at least those standing on the ground. The ones flying weren't quite as tall still their height was surely a fair bit more than the Wind-Reaver's.
There were eight of them; three of them flew, the other five stood tall with their arms high, channeling what she guessed was magic into the tower to her right. All of them were clad in the same way as the oracle – or Klaxxi'va Tik as she had understood he had been called – she had received the fork from. That was probably the dressing of the Klaxxi'va.
"Hey you," someone called. Looking up she found a much smaller mantid motioning her to him. He was about her height, his globe-like eyes watched her in wonder and hostility. As she approached him his mandibles clicked and she stopped. Looking at her with a glimpse of curiosity he seemed to muse before turning his gaze to the tower beside him. "A Klaxxi'va whispers to the tower," he said. So, not magic then, that explains the silent sound of voices she heard."It carries their whispers far; to other towers, to mantid, to paragons. The whisper bounces back and the Klaxxi hear it." He set his eyes on her. "This way, they see all." Why was he telling her this? She didn't dare ask, but she didn't have to either; "A tower near the palace is quiet. This will not do. It must sing for the Klaxxi." He glanced around him before continuing, "It is my job to fix the tower, but if you serve the Klaxxi, you should serve me as well." Wargana blinked at him. "You fix the tower, and I will wait here!"
"But it's your job to-" she tried but he interrupted.
"You do as I say, and I'll let you live." His eyes narrowed at her as he forcefully handed her a crystal of sort. "Use this to turn it back on."
"You can't just -"
"Wakener," she heard the Wind-Reaver call. Though he spoke in a hushed tone his voice rang clear for her and she looked at him. "Come," he said before turning. Giving the smaller mantid one last glance she followed Kil'ruk as he walked past the Klaxxi'va and seemed to be heading to a more remote place where few mantid roamed. There he stopped and turned to her.
She took the opportunity to speak, "Who was that mantid?"
Irritation narrowed his eyes as he snapped, "It matters not. But you do best in obeying."
"It just," she fell silent. She couldn't argue about it, not with a mantid. Naaru know what they would do to her. Yet the one before her seemed to wait for her to continue as he watched her with interest. She took notice of his fingers twitching around the handle of his blades and she understood speaking would give him reason to do something. So she remained silent and he spoke, "Newly hatched mantid have only two instincts: kill and feed. They turn on one another, devouring the weak and leaving the strongest to mature." She shuddered. "Those hatched during a swarm – the swarmborn – are turned loose on our enemies instead. But the swarmborn in the Clutches of Shek'zeer have been tainted. They are born into shadows and nightmares. Driven by terror, not hunger." She could feel her pulse rising as she knew where this was going. He looked almost curiously at her as he continued, "These swarmborn are not fit to swarm. They must be purged, and you will see to it."
Ambersmith Zikk couldn't help but to earshot. That soft-skin was sent into the Clutches. Zikk glanced at his half-emptied weapon racks then mused. There were sword wielders in the Clutches, and their weapons were of fine amber. He nodded to himself as his eyes were dragged back to the Wakener.
It was hard to keep the gaze off this strange creature. Blue, soft skin, hooves and fingers, long, useless, dark, green-tinted hair in two tails on the back of its horned head. Those horns could've come to use if they hadn't been sprouting back along the head. What was the good of that? He also caught a glimpse of a tail under that cloak it wore, a rather short one, and again he wondered what good it did.
Zikk tore his eyes from it and looked at the Wind-Reaver. He stood tall with each hand occupied by a sword of the finest amber. He wore armor suited for his type of warrior skills; shoulder pads with a dagger-like decoration, a harness to protect his carapace and a mask for his face, and of course the cermonial cloth strapped to his waist. Zikk's eyes traced the Wind-Reaver's body; he was strong but not any stronger than other mantids, that much the ambersmith could tell. What made this particular mantid so unique was his ability to dive from the sky, something that should tear the wings of any flyer. But not him. No, for some reason his wings could handle it. They could handle diving hundreds of strides and halting the fall before he splashed against solid ground. Though the four webbed wings looked no different from others.
Approaching them Zikk motioned with his hand as he spoke, "You! Filth!" Both of them looked at him; the creature with a glimpse of uncertainty and the paragon with a slight annoyance. "You work for me now!" he commanded without caring about the paragon's gaze. The soft-skin opened its mouth to speak, probably protest, but Zikk quickly continued, "The amber blades of the Bladesworn are the finest weapons in the empire. If you are not impaled upon them immediately after leaving here," he completely ignored the blue thing making a new attempt to speak, "bring me as many of the blades as you can carry! I want to make sure we have weapons in reserve, should we need them." He cast a glance at the paragon whose annoyance now showed in his narrowed eyes. The smith gave his new worker one last glance before returning to his place in the sanctuary by the forge.