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Lacrimosa of the Naih'dorei	By : BurneHazard Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1487 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: World of Warcraft is owned by Blizzard. I make no money or profit from this.

Chapter List
- 1-01: The Return
- 2-02: The Shadow Sanctum
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            The rain fell in heavy curtains. It was the precipitation of the fall season so it was cold. Yet the earth beneath its caress retained the heat of the summer months. The result was a thick haze of steam rising in steady curls and twists from the grasses half green and half brown with the progression of the season. Only the fall of the rain seemed to have any hint of control over the mists for the drops were so close together they lashed the veil down to keep it nearer the grasses and earth.
            Life still tried to cling to the land even as nature began to slide into the slumber that heralded the winter months. It showed in the way a late-blooming flower here or there added a bit of color to the otherwise drab and dull landscape. Nothing bright or unusual, rather the deeper and cooler shades of red or blue with the occasional purple. And it was not unusual to find a larger gathering of those stubborn bloomers in this particular field.
            Stones of multiple sizes and shapes were strewn haphazardly over the grass and beneath the trees that were just beginning to lose their leaves. Only a closer look might reveal that those rocks were not natural but the eroded remains of carved headstones. What might be mistaken for broken wood from carts or abandoned weapons or tools were the remains of wooden markers beaten down by time and the elements--or by less than respectful travelers and beasts. Carelessness and neglect had turned a once peaceful and decent cemetery into a hovel of lost memory.
            The half dried grass hissed as it sent the drops of rain trickling away rather than soak it up. But it was still too moist to crunch beneath the slow fall of hardened leather lined in thin metal. Very slowly, a lone figure drifted through the mists. It was no ghost despite how perfectly the drab gray cloak blended into the fog, rain, and turning leaves. Silent in passing, the tendrils of vapor were still stirred by a solid presence. The heavy cloak raised its own hissing whispers as it brushed the varied blades of fauna, almost accompanying the figure with the voices of the dead lost in time.
            For several moments the wandering shape continued without rush and without any apparent destination in mind. Yet, not once did it pause, hesitate, or deviate from what was apparently a well-known path. Even if there were no wear marks to reveal it, the cloaked figure's steps were as easy and relaxed as if there had been a smooth street before it. And when at last it halted, there was no discernible reason save that a slightly more clustered bit of color that was a flowering bush rested cradled by the roots of an old tree.
            At that point, the figure slowly sank down to one knee. It permitted the cloak to fall open and reveal a little more to the lone owl watching with sleepy awareness from the boughs over the specter's head. Lean, trim, lithe. The person's limbs belonged to a swimmer and runner while the solid torso was reminiscent of an athlete at the peak of their performance. Embraced by thick cloth and hard leather, it appeared that very little was left unseen without the shield of the cloak.
            Uninterested and unimpressed, the rain continued to fall steadily upon the figure's head and shoulders. Now it could darken the leather bound so snuggly to those long limbs into something closer to chocolate than tanned gold. If only the gloom caused by the rain had let a bit of light in, the garb beneath the cloak might have been unusually bright and warm. As it was, the chill of the falling water worked its way on the leather to mute and deaden it in reverence for the location.
            When the stranger leaned forward, a few locks of hair so pale gold they were nearly silver fell from beneath the confinement of the hood. A hand sheathed in the golden brown leather of a glove moved out to carefully pluck a few stray sprigs of grass out of the flowering brush. It was not a single bush but several different plants. The white blossoms had already withered away but hints of deeper burgundy, violet and even a single pale yellow flower could be seen.
            Satisfied at last with the meager weeding, the now-wet hand fell to rest upon the upright knee near the other. For a while, the hovel returned to the stillness and peace of death and forgetfulness. The intruder that yet lived still had a subtle impact upon the place. Graves were for the living. The dead no longer cared. At least, the truly dead. Some of the dead actually had their own opinion on the matter and held no qualms about expressing such.
            Time passed with only the sound of the rain striking various surfaces and the occasional hint of breath to intrude. A rumble of lazy, extremely distant thunder finally shattered the entire scenario and caused the cloaked figure to twitch. The twitch became the slow turn of the hooded head as a rustle came from the edge of the hovel. Only highly sensitive ears would have caught it. And just like that, the figure turned away, choosing to ignore it.
            "I thought I'd find you here."
            Rich, melodious, deep...and devoid of any spark of life, the voice drifted through the air like something of a dream bordering on nightmare. A slim figure moved around one of the few fir trees in the area to move into view. Rather, it appeared to prowl forward on two legs. The kal'dorei wore form-fitting leather and possessed a longbow unstrung and folded upon her back. Unlike many of her ilk, she wore full leather overlaid in mail rather than some skimpy outfit that provided no protection and little cover.
            The hooded head rose slightly so that the eyes shadowed beneath might turn toward the approaching woman. She merely drew to a gradual stop a stone's throw away as if aware of some intangible barrier between them. Her eyes shimmered in the dull light yet appeared merely a reflection of it. Coal black hair was soaked where it fell in a wild mane over her shoulders and down her chest and back. The hints of white at the temples were made gray by water and partially obscured the long, pointed ears.
            "It's not as if it's any secret I always stop here when travelling through," the cloaked figure replied in a quiet tone.
            Shaking her head, the huntress merely sighed. Her attention moved to the brush and tree that seemed to be the altar for the stranger's silent vigil. For just a moment, something stirred in the blind-seeming gaze.
            "She can find peace in such a place at least. It doesn't even appear that much changed with the location."
            Very slowly, the kneeling one stood. Gloved hands rose to push the full hood back a little. It only revealed the features beneath without baring the head. Golden tan skin with an underlying hint of paleness that might have been due to a sickness yet to be fully recovered from. The man's features were too fair and too youthful to be confused for human despite their strength. Especially the eyes, which were a turquoise flame lit from behind by a ghostly white light.
            "That would bring me comfort were I anyone else."
            Nodding once, the woman glanced away. While both of them were elves, she was one of the kal'dorei--the Night Elves. He was of another line. Most called him sin'dorei, although he held nothing of the fel taint associated with that race. Nor did he possess the odd presence of the aloof quel'dorei. Yet, appearances were far simpler a thing to go by than deeper truths.
            "Were you the only one sent to escort me then?" the male asked.
            "No. I was the first to spot your approach however. Still, the other sentries have been improving. They finally noticed your proximity two days ago."
            There was a faint smirk to the male's lips as he nodded once. Already his gaze was distant as he took a slow, deep breath. Even with the hood over his head, the twitch of the material gave her clue that he was listening much as she did. Both of them were able to hear things very few others could, and at far greater distances. At least, when they focused.
            "Why did you decide to come greet me then, huntress? I am still three days travel from the walls."
            Rolling her shoulders, the female turned slightly.
            "Your absence has been keenly felt. And you've been greatly missed. I felt it prudent to express such before you are mobbed at the gates."
            An amused snort left the male as he shook his head. Once more, he looked to the brush which served as the only form of marker for a decaying body concealed beneath the earth and grasses. One hand rose. Two fingers brushed over his lips before his hand fell. A fanciful gesture. A kiss intended to be blown only to be left to drift toward its target. He turned away in a ripple of drenched fabric.
            Nothing more was said. The male moved toward the boundary of the burial hovel and the patiently observant figure there. A proud talbuk more shadow and charcoal than black. Its powerfully muscled body retained the sleek grace of any of the deer family while the armor upon it was dull with rain and wear. Reaching out, the elf caught the reins resting loosely about the thickly chorded neck and gripped the saddle. In a simple spring and twist, he settled astride the beast.
            Only then did he realize the female had not followed. Just as he turned his attention back to the hovel, a new sound came to his perception. A voice. Not just any voice, but one so rich and beautiful it made his heart seize and halt in his chest. It was like the howl of a distant wolf in its power--lonely, sad, mournful, hopeful, promising, lifting--all at once. Yet this was melody. It was a song that was sung in no language the races of Azeroth had yet learned.
            Seated in the saddle, Elóndir Dev'Arian, listened to the lament. It was sung with such power that even the rain seemed to fall more heavily and more silently as the clouds and trees themselves wept and rejoiced at once. The talbuk--and the shadowy figure of a feline concealed in the brush--went still and ceased to breathe as their ears perked and they listened with their entire being to the banshee.
            Daío Farpath had possessed a talent for song in life that had only been fully unlocked after her death. It was as if the world itself ached to hear her sing, craved it with every blade of grass or breath of air it possessed. And only the warmth of the trails on his cheeks told the elf that it was tears and not rain trickling over his skin. In the melody, the ghosts of the past and memories lost were given life to return. Return and live briefly in every breath the living took.
            For a moment, the hovel became something else. The trees were younger with thicker leaves that sang in soft whispers with the breeze. The ground was awash in green grass swaying like a shallow sea amongst the clear-cut shapes of headstones. Wooden markers were freshly carved and stood strongly announcing the names of the fallen. Perhaps even sunlight fell in scattered shafts through the protective canopy shading the graves tended to by loved ones. Then...the veil vanished.
            The song would have been nothing to anyone else save for the raw emotion it evoked. But while others would not have understood, he knew the language. Just as she did. The huntress sang not for him but for the past. Even she had her memories, her phantoms, her hauntings. Perhaps, had he wished to, he could have used the power of the lament to explore them instead of his own. Respect stayed that temptation. Respect...and the desire to revive the memories so they remained clear and treasured instead of lost in the ruin of Time.
            He did not realize that the melody had ended or the voice had faded away until the feline nearby stretched and moved out of the brush. Blinking, Elóndir glanced at the odd violet tiger with white stripes. It prowled forward without any sign of concern until it reached the side of the huntress. How something large enough for the already tall elf to be able to slide onto its back like it was her mount could hide in a scraggle of bushes was still lost on him.
            "We had better continue. The rain will let up in another hour or two and no doubt someone will stumble across us."
            She was correct but it still earned her a mildly put-upon glance. Gathering the reins in hand, Elóndir turned his mount's head and pressed inward with his knees to squeeze. Snorting, the talbuk began to walk. In a moment, the violet tiger was casually walking alongside, bearing the slim female upon its back. For all the separation of the two beasts into predator and prey, they more or less ignored one another to pay attention to their surroundings like any well-trained war mounts. Only, the saber was not supposed to be a mount despite the fact it was serving that capacity.
            "So, for you to stir yourself from your usual wanderings and linger about our walls, something must have happened."
            "Winterspring...has grown old. Tired."
            One platinum gold brow rose as he looked to his companion. The height difference between their mounts was inconsequential.
            "I never thought I'd see the day when you admitted you were bored."
            Daío shrugged nonchalantly. Yet, she was staring ahead rather than meet the white-kissed light of the other's eyes.
            "Not so much boredom as...just...fed up. Not to mention those damn blue treants wandering around are just...wrong."
            That brought a chuckle from the golden elf as he shook his head.
            "Well, I'm often one to throw stones but for the sake of our company, I will not mention the comment that came to mind."
            "Thank you. Although, in ways I would like to see a spark of this Prince of Fiends you were in the past."
            Sobering, he turned his head aside and away from her. The quiet was not entirely tense but there was a sense of a barrier between them. It lingered until he looked ahead once more.
            "Perhaps. We shall see, won't we?"
            "They'll be glad you've returned. I left orders with the sentries not to inform them."
            Elóndir groaned. "That means when I arrive, everyone will know and I'll be mobbed."
            The grin that crossed Daío's lips was wicked but harmless. A faint hint of light dared spark in the mercurial eyes.
            "I did say as much, did I not?"
            "One of these days, Farpath..."
            "As if you could with Phantom around."
            The cat she rested astride rumbled as if it understood exactly what the two elves were speaking of. Curiously, the rumble was met by a snort from the talbuk. It tossed its head, causing the metal-capped antlers to slice through the air. Familiar with the motion, Elóndir merely tilted his head forward an inch to evade their swipe.
            "I believe that Swift would take a few chunks out of your cat's hide before it could take them from mine. But let's not test those waters." Lifting his head, he patted the powerful neck to settle the beast. "Tell me instead, how fare things for our little niche of the world?"
            For a few more heartbeats, the huntress was silent. At last, she took a breath and shook her head.
            "More have begun to return. Even those thought dead."
            "Just like yourself, hm?"
            Daío snorted but did not make any sign that she disagreed. She nodded after a few more heartbeats. "Yes, like me. They drift in without warning, and simply...return."
            The sun-born elf was quiet for a few moments as he considered. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the sky. Even if it had not been raining, it was unlikely that the clouds would be absent. Gloomy and dark, always. It was not the cold, oppressiveness that it had once been. Now there was hope that perhaps the land could be restored. There were those who knew better. Perhaps some things might return but it would never be restored.
            "Perhaps it is simply time for them to resurface then. At least now they've an actual home to return to that will not shun them."
            "It may even protect them. After all, they drift in then stay--despite many protests and statements to the contrary."
            He nodded once. The turquoise eyes fell back to the land before them. Neither needed any trail. Even if they did, neither desired to seek one out or meet anyone.
            "They've done all right in your absence. You left the right people in charge at least."
            Elóndir raised one sharply angled brow. It was rare for the lone huntress to grace anyone with praise let alone such compliments. Tilting his head to one side, he considered. "So, the place is not entirely lost?"
            She chuckled at that. "No. Your loyal pets have managed to keep things progressing smoothly. It was rough when refugees arrived from dwarven lands but they muddled through it. And you'll find that their numbers have grown with tauren and trolls as well. Not so many orcs..."
            "Any more...Alliance additions?"
            "A few. Mostly humans and a few kal'dorei."
            "That must have thrilled you."
            If looks had been able to kill, it was likely he barely evaded the fatal blow. Yet, Daío turned the glare away swiftly enough and continued. "A handful of draenei dared barge in but have been behaving so far. As per everyone's unanimous decision, no goblins or gnomes have been permitted."
            "Good. Last thing we need are those anklebiters underfoot," Elóndir snarled.
            "I understand the green rats have taken to polluting the orc's city. Their drinking water is in peril. Not the wisest of things should they be required to seal themselves for a siege."
            Both shared a look that spoke volumes. Regardless, Elóndir voiced it.
            "The sooner that pretend warchief is removed and Thrall returns, the better."
            Daío nodded once in full agreement. Her hand rose to trail the tips of her fingers along her throat. Just above the neckline of her armor, a vicious black burn mark rested upon a delicate collarbone so the white of the bone beneath was visible. The skin was knotted and twisted around it and fused to the bone itself.
            "I'm no orc-lover but even I recognize how much...better things were under his guidance. For Alliance, Horde and everyone else."
            "Whatever does happen, right now we have our own concerns."
            The huntress nodded sharply. "More travelers have been seeking out the ruins and several have come far too close to things they should not."
            That brought a sharper look from the other elf. "I trust they were dealt with adequately?"
            "Yes. The Minion handled things--although there was a bit of a problem dealing with one. In the end though, he was turned away without any memory of what he found."
            "Hm. I don't like that though. When I do catch up with everything that's happened, first thing to do is make sure our wards are at full strength then activate them."
            The mercurial eyes widened. "Activate them? Are you sure?"
            He nodded once. "I'm not talking about the Wards, just the lesser ones. If more are still returning, I want to give them a chance to do so without hassle from our safeguards."
            Daío narrowed her eyes. Considering the elf beside her, she fell silent to calculate just what was going on behind those unreadable eyes. They were cold and sharper than the blades at his hips, with a touch of venom no assassin ever wielded. It was a dangerous look. One she had often seen at the past. Those it had been aimed at had never drawn breath again.
            "Come!"
            The sudden barked order snapped her out of her reverie. Startled, she tensed and caused Phantom to halt sharply as well. But it appeared nothing was amiss save the sudden eerie ghost-fire in the natural glare. Elóndir grinned. It was not a pleasant one but it filled even the undead kal'dorei with a sudden cold fire of anticipation and excitement. There were reasons certain people followed this rogue elf and this inspiring sensation was only one of them.
            "I'm tired of this dallying. Let's go home!"
            Swift rose onto his hind legs, cloven hooves slashing the air as he released a scream of challenge to the skies. In that moment, Daío felt herself break into a lethal grin as her heart beat sharply once more. Phantom roared beneath her. As one, both mounts took off, bearing their riders in a burst of speed toward their destination. Great black walls amidst the trees that still lived around the path of death and desecration torn through the land by the Scourge years ago.
            They were going to Deatholme.
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Lacrimosa of the Naih'dorei