Straydog Saga
Flea 19: The Bride with White Hair
Little white dots came from the gray clouds above. The crunching sound of plate and leather boots coupled with the occasional grumble from a tiger's furry mouth seemed to echo in the narrow pass. The wind would occasionally give comment, brushing on the sentinel's bodies like a crisp ribbon. The sentinels pulled finely-made violet hoods over their cold-breathing faces as the snow started to fall a little faster. In a matter of moments they could barely see the exit to the Timbermaw hold through the white torrent but knew it remained open as the group of 10 trained women waited. Their leader, a tall and muscular night elf, shifted a little on her mount. She moved to one of her riding bags and pulled out a small vial. She popped the stopper, moved the shroud that hid her shame from the world, and poured the soothing potion into her ravaged mouth. The surgeons and healers did what they could to fix the gaping wound and while they managed to save Falina Catwhisper's life the same could not be said for her face. Long, jagged scars marked the very place where Shandori's steel struck. The teeth that were knocked out were replaced by false implants, causing her gums to occasionally bleed. What was left of Falina's tongue caused her constant pain and became nearly unbearable when she attempted to speak. Despite her brother's plea and her doctor's advice, when Falina was off the stronger pain potions, she was back on the job. Another sentinel, who stood beside her leader, moved to whisper.
"We should take shelter soon. I feel a worse storm approaching." The sentinel, a violet haired woman with small scars beneath intricate facial tattoos, suggested. Falina shook her head with a grunt. She looked to see a young, noble face filled with concern and sighed. With much effort and with the pain potion taking affect she moved her nearly numb lips to speak.
"No, Natajha. We wait. They come." She spoke with a slight slur.
"How can you be so certain, mam?" Natajha asked, careful not to slip into the casual tone she was accustomed to when the pair was behind closed doors. The words made Falina snort.
"Good loyal people with open ears." Falina nodded. When her forces approached the regent lord of Nighthaven, they were met with far more resistance than the small group expected. Shandori's consorting with members of the Horde made a simple extradition far more muddied as the hoofed and tusked members of the druidic town constantly noted. But one proactive young nurse kept their agents informed and in her spying managed to capture the vital information necessary to facilitate the ambush. According to nurse, with the blood elf out of danger, the group would be traveling from Nighthaven that evening, hoping to get off the main road as quickly as possible. But the sentinels were ready for them at the only entrance into the wintry mountain range they would be able to take, considering Christoffel's still weak state. After a few moments shadows formed in the blanket of white. A kodo with an orc family in tow were traveling to Everlook. They carried no weapons, save for a gun in case of bandits or wolves, and nothing but fur coats to protect them from an over-zealous glaive. The father, a simple trader with only one language on his tongue, moved to stop their progression. The night elf force looked to their leader for guidance as the orc-mother held her young son to her breast with a snarl. Falina looking to the family, shook her head, and led her mount to the side of the road. The action earned a questioning look from her soldiers, but Falina's glare ensured no words of insubordination came. While the sentinels followed their leader, one quiet question filled Falina's ear. Natajha's confused eyes seemed slightly betrayed as the sight of the green-skinned family nearly turned her stomach.
"They are of no consequence. We are here to do justice, not slaughter unarmed families." She winced, reaching for another pain relief potion and waved the family on. The orc-father nodded in wary thanks as he quickly urged his pack kodo to move away from the scene. It would be a few hours before another would come walking down the road. Just as the sun began to sink, the figure approached. The armor she wore was dented and tarnished. Great ornate wings that adorned her shoulder plates were nothing but a memory. Her long, tattered green cloak moved by an artistic wind about her old but sturdy frame. Falina moved her cat around to approach the figure, whose own face was covered by a woven frond hat purchased in Nighthaven. The silent figure stopped its progression and stood motionless as the sound of a frightened gasp rung out from among the clutch of sentinels. One of the younger sentinels felt herself tremble at the sight of the familiar woman, who's roughly cut white hair hung loose beneath the shade of her hat. She ran to her leader's side, though breaking protocol with the action, and began frantically telling the account of when she was nearly slain by a mad woman wearing the exact same dilapidated attire during Shandori's escape.
"You there, is this true?" Falina asked. The air carried no response but silence to her long blue-violet ears. "I said is it true?"
"Answer her, hag!" Natajha demanded, temper flaring at the blatant act of disrespect. But the words only earned them a slight twitch in the stranger's black-painted lips. Falina dismounted and drew a long knife from the sheath at her side.
"We don't have time for this nonsense." Falina motioned for two of her sentinels to approach and apprehend the stranger on suspicion of aiding a known criminal. But as they drew near the felt their feet become frozen in the sight of the old woman's haunted vision. Falina, though stone faced, felt a slight shiver run through her.
"You little girls realize what you're doing is illegal. This is neutral land."
"We are not in Everlook; their laws do not apply here." Natajha spat back, glaive at the ready. "If you did aid the criminal Shandori Sagesmoke as our sister said then you are just as guilty of villainy as she is. Make your defense now or face justice." Natajha nearly shouted over the outraged wind. The words brought a slow rumble within the old woman's throat, and like a booming mountain, a bitter laugh erupted.
"Justice? Your kind doesn't know the meaning of the word." The old woman spoke, as a ribbon of wind threatened to knock the entire group over. She held strong. "Innocent blood still runs on the blades of your sisterhood, or did your elders strike that information from your school books?" The old woman hissed. The words caused the prickling sensation within Falina to explode into full on irritation.
"Enough!" Falina screamed, causing s small trickle of blood to creep down the side of her lip and a sharp pain to shoot through her scars. But the outrage that overcame her made the pain seem like nothing more than a pin prick. She charged the old woman who dodged the initial attack and, with her long circular glaive, mounted a counter attack. Falina's nine fellow sentinels joined in the fray but found themselves ill equipped to deal with the magnificently agile and powerful elder. Each jab, slash, and chop was deftly parried or avoided all together. The old woman moved with unnatural swiftness as one by one the younger, less experienced sentinels fell. The defeated sentinels still found themselves able to breathe but the pain the wracked their slender frames rendered them unable to carry on. Even Falina's great mount joined the fray, slashing at the old woman with its well-manicured claws. But it too met the ground with a bloodied snout, all too willing to escape the scene, leaving its rider to her fate. Soon it was just the panting Falina and stone faced former watcher still standing in the blood- spattered scene.
"W-Who are you?" Falina nearly choked on her own breath as another flurry of shining attacks burst forth from the old woman's shining circular weapon. Falina barely managed to block the assault but her steel held. She felt her leather treads slipping as her feet left a deep trench before her. Rage seemed to fill every feature in the old woman's face as her frond hat flew, abandoned to the snowy floor. That is when Falina saw it, a glint of pure rage and resounding darkness in the old woman's dimly lit eyes. The aura that surrounded the old woman glowed with unspeakable evil as an unseen hand seemed to coax the elder to speak.
"I am every innocent, just soul slaughtered for the greater good." Her voice seemed warped, unnatural. But Falina had no time to focus on the strange aura surrounding the old watcher with shining steel continuing in a seemingly endless assault. Soon Falina found her arms and lungs failing under the pressure and in one swift motion her sword was send flying into the deep snow. Her eyes darted to where it fell, flat, beneath the snowy carpet. Death stared her in the face, eyes devoid of compassion or mortal goodness. Just as the circular weapon was about to come down, a voice flowed into the scene, halting what would have been a final strike.
"Ms. Maiev?" The voice of Ima came, as a small group of travelers raced to where the old watcher stood. With her concentration broken and strange aura seemingly disturbed, Maiev turned to see the troll, along with her usual Elvin entourage, a lupine degenerate, and one other, a hulking druid with strong bovine features. When Maiev turned her gaze back to where Falina was struck down, she found nothing but an empty pile of reddish-pink snow. Ima and the others looked to the scene of scattered sentinels and broken glaives and found the collective urge to flee dwelled equally within them. "W-What happened?"
"They were waiting for us. Someone must have informed them we were coming." Maiev informed with a monotone drawl as the group quickly moved down the road and to the lesser traveled paths.
"There were pleanty'a people talking at th'pub the other night. Coulda been anyone." Daggerfang shrugged; his plans to travel to his home city were thwarted by drunken memories of better times and innocent company. The muttering and whispers he heard also seemed to include a tall, feral looking rogue which led to one particularly rowdy bar fight. He decided that it was far safer to travel with his fellow strays than risk being recognized and singled out in the wilderness.
"The soldiers, they still breathe. Are we leaving them to die?" Potan mused as the nearly buried sentinels seemed to disappear into the blanketing snow.
"Say a prayer if you feel the need to. But they're not your friends, you should know this." Christoffel shivered; his face was still pale with sickness, but the rest of him seemed well enough to make the frigid journey to the neutral city. Potan muttered a prayer of peace and guidance, whether the young women would be rescued and find their way to their warm beds or the final grip of nature. The tauren usually traveled alone, if ever. Though the majority of the company he walked with would border on the dregs of the world, he could not help at smile at the worried troll beside him with the tiny, dancing flower in her hair. He was eager to study the plant and was more than delighted when Imajin offered him a spot in her esteemed company.
"Whatever lets just keep going? Its going to be freezing soon and my ass would much rather be in a warm cot than a cold clearing." Shandori snarled, quickly glancing to Maiev with a slight shutter. "You took on a bunch of sentinels without a scratch? Remind me never to piss you off when you're in a mood." Maiev grunted in response and rubbed a large bruise that was forming on her thigh, as a sharp wind coolly caused small tears to well up in her squinting eyes. The group would not make it to the safe house for the evening but somehow, sitting around a magically lit fire and recounting tales of their sorted adventures seemed to calm those whose hearts were shaking and bring a smile to the faces of those who found themselves able.
It was the end of the work week and Orifiel smiled in her extra hour of sleep. The one day she was afforded rest and Archmage Romulus took over her duties was her favorite day of the week. With all that was happening: the arrival of the shaman warders, the daily hearings, complaints, clashes, and requests, on top of her high elf guest's insult to a night elf priestess of some influence, Orifiel always smiled in anticipation of her free day. She cocooned herself in her deep purple bed sheets as the grumpy tugging hands of Inge moved to reclaim her share of covers. Orifiel grunted and poked an arm through the top of the bed sheet cocoon to allow her adopted daughter to pull the bottom sheet over her tiny frame.
"Cold." Inge sleepily huffed. Orifiel gave an affirmation through a long yawn as she moved to stretch.
"Good morning Inge. Did you sleep well…in my bed…again?" Orifiel playfully sighed. Inge nodded, nuzzling her face into the soft lavender pillow beneath her pale blonde head.
"Papa no here." She proudly proclaimed as if conquering a contested piece of sacred territory. Orifiel smiled and stroked Inge's forehead.
"Well you better enjoy it while you can. Papa will be here all the time soon and you'll have to sleep in your big girl bed."
"Why?" Inge pouted, pulling the deep purple sheet over her shoulders. She much preferred sleeping in the lush people bed with the heat of adoptive mother beside her rather than the small, child sized bed she was accustomed to. The small room, just beside Orifiel's own never seemed close enough for the child, who even occasionally tried to muscle her way in when papa was around, much to his dismay. Orifiel shifted to sit up with warmth in her eyes and joy in her smile.
"Because papa misses his bed and mama misses papa."
"Miss me too?" Inge asked and, forsaking her covers moved her arms up for a hug. Orifiel obliged.
"You're not going anywhere Inge but you need to sleep in your big girl bed because that is where pretty and super smart girls like you belong. Come on now, let's get you dressed. I'm meeting with auntie Violet today for lunch. We're going to have a girl's day. What do you say?" Orifiel sighed at the sight of a frightened face quickly being sheathed by a protective layer of bed sheets. The childish quivering caused the sheet-barrier to quiver. "…Inge?"
"NO. GOAT. GIRL!" Inge shouted and shook her head underneath the purple shroud. Orifiel gave an annoyed sigh as she exchanged her night garments for a casual pair of deerskin leather pants and a deep purple linen shirt, adorned with embroidered flowers of the same color. Orifiel then managed to free the little girl from her bed sheet shield and helped Inge into a pale pink shirt and strap-dress.
"Well mama is going to spend time with auntie Violet. Would you rather spend time with Belna or Ferris today if their parents say its ok?" Orifiel asked, causing Inge to stop and think for a moment. The young "moo-cow" child DID get a new doll set recently while Ferris' father always let them help when he did his baking. The majority of the 'help' came in the form of disposing of the end result via devouring little mouths. Weighing her options carefully, Inge decided she wished to spend time playing with dolls while her mother spent time with, in her mind, a frighteningly misshapen looking "goat girl." When the pair were fully dressed and finished a light breakfast of milk and jammed toast, Orifiel and Inge set off for the east residential district within the Pinnacle Bough. They stopped by the home of Belna the tauren to find her mother busy cleaning a small stack of dishes from the morning meal. Orifiel offered the help of her youngest child who whined a little but ultimately agreed if it meant not visiting with auntie goat-girl. Belna was thrilled to have her playmate for the afternoon, but due to some motherly trickery the young girls found themselves cleaning and tidying up before they would be able to bust out their favorite dolls. Orifiel profusely thanked the tauren mother for the kind favor before leaving for the upper bough's small but ever present shopping and restaurant lane. A few of the priestesses and druids did not really recognize her in the casual clothing but many still stopped to greet her. She found Violetina sitting at the designated meeting place, a small café that boasted the best coffee and tea in all of Azeroth. Her friend sat there, arms crossed and tail twitching as one of her two polished purple hooves nervously rocked back and forth. She turned to see Orifiel approaching the small patio area where she sat alone and sent a big smile her way.
"Hello Ori." Violet spoke in her usual cheery tone.
"I hope you weren't waiting too long." Ori said as she took her seat. She noticed the nervous actions and something behind the cheerful eyes of her friend. "Is something the matter?" She asked, causing Violetina to sigh and shake her head.
"Noting. I miss Argus today." Violetina sighed, remembering the very dawn of her youth, back in a time when there were no draenei crash landing in a strange world but only a peaceful, uncorrupted Eredar race.
"Oh no, what happened? Did someone say something to you again?" Orifiel spoke, putting the menu she began to read over down. She had heard those words before and they never preceded anything good.
"Not really say, just looks and whispers, some even laugh. Especially from human. Why tey tink tey so good, Ori?" Violet sighed, fidgeting with her own menu as Orifiel motioned to the night elf waiter who seemed unsure whether or not he should interrupt. He quickly took their order of two cream blended teas, a small salad and grilled wheat bread and cheese sandwich before disappearing back into the quiet café.
"I don't know, Violet. There seems to be a lot of that here, I'm getting rather tired of it myself." Ori admitted. The culture clashes that often kept Orifiel awake at night were terrible enough when they simply dwelled within one race. But as more and more visitors came from different creeds and peoples, the more grievances she had to deal with. Violet gave her a cross look but the feeling did not seem intended for her.
"I mean my people have been in alliance for many year now. I understand if horde mock me but still, human tink we man'ari or demon. It soooo annoy." Violet huffed, looking to one of the branches that lined the small fence around the café patio.
"People like to do that. It makes them feel better about themselves. When I adopted Inge, I can't tell you how many looks I got, how rude people were to her. I can only be thankful that she doesn't seem to notice. It's why I made sure when we got here no one knew about Trenton. People just think he's another one of Seth's assistants."
"Oh how is your baby boy, he well?" Violet was excited but knew well to tone her voice down to a whisper. Orifiel smiled and gave a grateful nod.
"He is. He spends a lot of time with Seth, which is probably for the best. He loves to get under my skin and it would be terrible for race relations if people see me beating the snot out of a human boy." The pair laughed at the mental image as the relieved waiter served them their milk and cream tea. "No, we'll all be much better off when we leave this overgrown shrub." Ori softly smiled as a slight glimmer came to her eye. Violet took a sip of her drink before leaning a little closer.
"Oh? You find someone?"
"Two actually. One is nearly finished; the other isn't too far behind from what Seth has reported. Once the project you and your team are working on is done, we should be able to leave. That's what I'm hoping anyway."
"Wonderful, I so happy for you two. You go someplace private yes? Forest or Mountain?" Violet whispered, all too aware of Orifiel and Seth's situation, over many an afternoon or evening chat or exchanged messages.
"Both if I have anything to say about it, though that sort of real-estate is a bit hard to come by these days." Orifiel took a sip of her cream-tea, cutting it off when she felt the sting of heat on the tip of her tongue.
"Tere always Draenor. Tere is much history..."
"Yes, a bit too much. No we plan to stay in Azeroth, if things pan out." Orifiel quieted herself as the waiter placed her sandwich down on the table in front of her. Violet smiled and thanked the handsome servant for her salad.
"No worries, light will guide you to good place." Violet assured with a crunching bite of her leafy lunch. Ori gave a soft smile. There was still so much that needed to be done, still so far her unknowing guest needed to accomplish. The thousand worries seemed to scratch at the back of her mind, desperate to overcome her thoughts. But the savory bite of a tasty sandwich and the jubilant company across from her was a bold reminder that the sunny day she dwelled in was not one of work or headaches. She smiled as the conversation turned as light as the sparking wood, all fleeting dread for tomorrow seemingly forgotten, if not only for a small time. But as the pair was finishing their lunch, a nervous sounding voice called to the casually clad steward. Orifiel turned to see the young man, standing just outside the café's gate and gasped.
Hanariel found himself awake an hour earlier than usual. But unlike the typical urge to roll over and bury his face in his pale blue pillow, the morning air around him seemed to call Hanariel to his feet. He sat up and stretched to yawn. At a glance everything about him seemed normal, if not a bit more cheery after his midnight tryst, but as he placed his glasses on something strange shown in the mirror. The golden marks on his hand and arm spread to his back, chest, neck, and forehead. As he touched the glowing marks, he felt nothing but the usual sensation of his own flesh. The only mark that seemed to cause him to wince when his fingers drew near was the golden eye in the center of his forehead. He quickly moved his hand away and worked on cleaning and dressing himself, further investigating the extent of the marks in the bath. He quickly dried himself off and began covering his strange condition with layers of thin clothing. His new, white and gold ensemble seemed all too fitting and the transformed priest was more than relieved to find that the cloak's hood more than covered his glowing face. He was supposed to meet Keesha for breakfast before her lessons that morning but something propelled him towards the Pinnacle Bough. He mentally cursed as his haphazard and panicked steps nearly sent him careening into a visibly pregnant green-haired woman and her white-bearded husband. He did not look up to see their startled violet faces nor did his ears truly register the snarling sound of the night elf hunter's protective pet, but did offer a quick apology before speeding on his way. Orifiel was not in any of the meeting halls or along the usual path she took in the early morning. His last hope for help without leaving the relative safety of the upper bough lay in the leisure district. He scoured the small shops, careful not to show his face to any of the curious shop keepers. Then a flash of white and purple caught his eye in one of the small, out of the way café's. He saw the steward of the tree dining on what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich and tea with one of the Earthen Ring shamans. Hanariel sighed, a slight pang of guilt giving him pause for a moment before disrupting their light hearted lunch. Orifiel turned to see him, her eyes went wide. She gasped as the draenei woman she was with covered her mouth in surprise and looked to her friend for explanation.
"Lady Whitedeer, I-I'm terribly sorry to bother you but…" Han stopped as in what seemed like a matter of seconds the priestess was as his side. She pulled back the hood, looking around to see if anyone was around to witness the action, before investigating the bright, blinding energy that secretly pulsed through the priest. Orifiel seemed to search for something in the marks with her racing eyes and in the end smiled at what she saw. She pulled a small purse from her pant pocket and tossed it to Violet, who was leaning against the small iron café fence.
"That should cover lunch, Violet. Sorry I have to cut things short, but duty calls." Orifiel half sighed, doing her best to contain the excitement in her glowing eyes. Violet stared at the strange patterns on the elf's face and slowly nodded. As the pair quickly walked towards Orifiel's inner sanctum, something had obviously been set in motion, and the knowledge of the event lie deep within the steward's scheming mind.