Clan(s): Tears of Draenor
Title: Panda Mistress
Hair: Azure Blue
Garments/Armor: Silks and mageweave
It was her first visit and Orgrimmar was bigger than any place else she'd ever been. She was completely lost. She heard there was an invader about. Dyerseve they called him. She'd given her Forsaken friend the only protection she could with a Prayer of Fortitude she had learned in one of her first lessons and wandered off to explore.
She took a few hesitant steps forward. She changed her mind and began retracing her steps. She couldn't remember where she had come from. She was fairly certain she hadn't travelled this road yet but wasn't entirely sure.
She saw him as he crested the rise of the road. A human on horseback, his robes whipping in the wind as he spurred his steed forward.
As he neared, she caught sight of his raiments. 'A Priest! Like me!' She turned and watched him pass, nearly slackjawed as she thought about her own dreams of when she grew in power.
And then he stopped. He dismounted and turned to her. She didn't even have time to utter the word on her lips before her world went black.
The hot winds of Durotar blew across her face and through her hair as she and her sleeping Panda cub, Budge, waited on the platform.
"Listen…" the dusty voice crept into her ear. "Do you hear it?"
She strained to catch the sounds. Faintly at first, she began to hear the panicked distress calls. "Crossroads is under attack!" "Camp Taurajo is under attack!" "Crossroads is under attack!" "Orgrimmar is under attack!" "Thunder Bluff is under attack!" "Crossroads is under attack!" "Tarren Mill is under attack!" "Crossroads is under attack!" "Crossroads is under attack!" "Crossroads is under attack!"
"Why? Why do they do this?"
Her only answer was bitter laughter.
She pressed her arms and hands tight to her head, covering her ears, and willed it, prayed for it, to cease…
Warm blood washed over her feet. Hot tears streamed down her face. Her hands hung limp at her sides as she stared about her in horror and shock. For a moment, a Kaldorei male's leering face blocked her view of the carnage just outside the Dark Lady's chambers. He threw his head back, pointed at her and laughed at her in her pained impotence. Her cheeks flamed with shame and humiliation. Then he turned away and his swords spattered still more blood across the despondent Priestess' white robes.
She let him know she was ready for battle. He was more powerful but she would not stand down. She prayed for fortitude and protection and then felt the surge of shadows fill her as she prepared to attack. The hate and fury that had built over her months of training and constant Alliance harassment burned in her eyes. She could not wait to make him pay for his arrogance. For his brutality. For his dishonor. Just for being alive.
His taunts burned her and she curled her lip in derision. It just fueled her willingness to use the shadows at her command. She attacked his body first to wrack him with pain. Then she began to destroy his mind…
The roar of a Devilsaur ripped through the fetid and humid jungle air.
"Jave… Sweet, sweet Jave…"
The torn and bloodied Troll rogue's body lay before her, his spirit too shredded to even give the feeblest response to her attempts to resurrect him. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and all the things she would have tried to do differently raced through her head. But the fact remained that she was too young to have done anything that would have made any difference at all.
The Tears of Draenor. A clan based on the legacy of a race that had lost everything and yet built a new hope. The winds whispered the name through the shadows that clouded her mind more and more frequently these days. Perhaps there was a reason.
Perhaps she might find a home.
Perhaps she might find a family.
Perhaps she too might find hope.