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The Joys of Diplomacy	By : JayByrd0 Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 5959 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own World of Warcraft and no profit has been made from this story. Only the original characters contained in this story are mine.

Chapter List
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(I've taken some liberties with the Thalassian [High Elf/Blood Elf] language since there is no translation of the language in its entirety. I've made use of as many known words as I could here and there to keep the appropriate flavoring. Remember, if you think you've spotted a mistake… A WIZARD DID IT!)

"Band'or manor thori na!" shouted the elfin woman, brandishing her war hammer.
Gharni drew her attention from the elf's ring and struggled to understand what she was trying to communicate to her. The attitude was clearly hostile but if it was a question or a command then the right answer or action could defuse the situation. She tried desperately to link the sounds to the few words of Thalassian Azran had taught to her.
The worg Frekaz stood at attention next to his mistress, tightening his muscles and growling at the she-elf. He needed no translation to understand that a fight was imminent, however his training kept him from attacking without provocation.
'Prepare…' thought Gharni, 'I know band'or means prepare to...'
The elf gave a guttural scream at the orc, hoping to provoke at attack. Gharni saw, through the eye slits in the elf's helmet, a wrathful glare flash in her eyes which were glowing an eerie green.
'Wrath!' The words clicked into place Gharni's head. 'Prepare to… meet my wrath… enemy.' Gharni quickly came to the realization that the situation was explosive and would not be resolved easily. The only thing that may have saved her to this point was that she had not made any movement that could be mistaken for an attack. Gharni's eyes flicked to the top of the hill she had come from. There was still no sign of Azran or Xlandria.
Gharni knew she was strong enough to beat this elf in a fight but killing one of the people she had been sent to make contact with would put their mission in jeopardy. In a moment of desperation Gharni threw down her bow and recalled the one word of Thalassian she knew that had a chance of calming this woman who called her an enemy.
"Rona!" shouted Gharni, meaning 'peace.' She held out her empty hands palm up to make it clear she had no hidden weapons.
The elfish woman glared at her but her stance relaxed visibly.
Knowing that his might be her chance to open relations with the High Elves of Silvermoon Gharni decided that the right gift might go a long way. The orc knelt down and set her backpack on the ground before her. She slowly reached in and withdrew a vial filled with a purple liquid. She made a slow tossing motion to indicate to the elf what she intended to do and then gently tossed the potion to the battered elf before her.
The elf snatched it out of the air with her free hand. She examined the liquid, popped the cap off and took a sniff, then swallowed the contents in two gulps. The effect was immediate. Several visible cuts and bruises were healed in a second, the elf also found her magical powers replenished.
"Anaria shola," said the paladin.
"I wish I could understand you," said Gharni in a gentle voice. Gharni's limited skills with Thalassian were proving to be a continuing hindrance to her attempts at diplomacy. "Bur ergin Landowar?" asked Gharni, inquiring in the Alliance Common tongue if the language of the humans was known to the elf.
"She said 'speak your business,'" said Azran.
Both Gharni and the elf turned to see the hooded, undead figure of Azran standing halfway up the hill with his succubus Xlandria by his side.
"Bash'a no falor talah!" yelled the elf who then rushed towards the warlock, her hammer raised to strike.
She made three mistakes in her attack upon the warlock. First, she failed to make use of her magic, preferring the visceral satisfaction of killing him with her own weapon; second, she chose to run uphill, wasting all of her momentum on an uphill climb to an enemy with the high ground; third, she did not look where she was putting her feet. Her right foot caught mid-stride on a dead root sticking up from the blackened ground of the Tainted Scar. She stumbled and landed face down upon the ground, skidding to a sudden stop less than a meter from Azran and Xlandria's feet.
Xlandria took the opportunity to plant approach the fallen elf and planted a hoof on the center of her back, pinning the elf to the ground. Azran knelt before the elf and said to her in Thalassian, "I'll have to decline your offer to 'taste the chill of true death' as I have just eaten. I'll assume from your reaction to my appearance that you don't care for the Scourge. Know now that I am a free willed Forsaken and I bear as much hatred for the Scourge as you do."
The elf struggled to get up for a moment but stopped to listen to Azran.
"If I let you up, will you promise to hold a peaceful parley with us while we discuss an issue of diplomacy with you?" asked Azran, again in Thalassian.
"Osa," said the elf, giving her consent.
Xlandria removed her hoof from the elf's back and returned to Azran's side. The elf stood, rather mollified after humiliating herself so severely, and brushed off what she could of the dirt caked to the front of her armor. She then removed her helmet allowing her long, auburn hair to cascade down past her shoulders and hang in loose curls about her face and back. Her long, slender ears were now visible and pointed backwards through her hair. Her skin was pale which made her hair seem an even deeper red along with her red, Cupid's bow lips.
"I am Felidorae Brightwind of Silvermoon," said the elf in her native Thalassian while giving a curt bow to the travelers.
Azran translated for Gharni who bowed and introduced herself in turn.
"We are very pleased to meet you madam Brightwind," Azran said, still in Thalassian. "We are diplomats of the Horde and we are seeking an audience with the High Elves of Silvermoon. You have already encountered my colleague Gharni of the Warsong clan and her worg Frekaz. This is my minion Xlandria and I am Azran of the Dark Lady's Court." Azran bowed graciously before Felidorae and then lowered his hood as a friendly gesture.
Felidorae gasped as Azran's hood fell. She teetered for a moment and reached out a hand towards him. "Asren!" she cried out as she crumpled into a fainted heap upon the ground.
Neither Gharni nor Azran knew how to react to this; they could only look upon Felidorae's outstretched hand and wonder at the meaning of the silver and amethyst ring upon her finger.
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The Joys of Diplomacy