Polaris

I think the thing that bothered me the most about the entire ordeal, was that I couldn’t help but feel that it was somehow all my fault. Had I enough willpower, I would not of lost my mind and killed Esixa’s children.

I’ve survived three separate wars, nearly dying several times in all of them, and even becoming mentally indisposed during one. I’ve lived through two different exoduses and two different genocides against my people. My parents, my husband, the father of my children and my son all perished. Of all the trials and tribulations I have gone through, this one that finally ended less than two days ago was the hardest I had ever endured.  Had I not the friends I did, I would not be here now.

Esixa came into my home and knocked me about, then managing to get the one up on me and my current sensitive state by cracking my head against the wall and stabbing me with the dagger Saibley had given me. When I awoke, I found myself slumped over her back with my hooves dragging the ground. We were in the Wetlands, I knew by the smell. I managed to topple her over by shifting my weight. I even wiggled free and ran for my life as best I could with a knife wound in my chest. There was distance between us, and I figured I could hide in the marshlands until I either outsmarted her and back-tracked to Ironforge, or someone found me. There was no way I could take her on. Not now. Neivala had sapped all of my strength for herself. I flew across those glades. I ran as hard as I could. I thought I had gotten away when she shot my leg out from underneath me.

I hit the peat face first and rolled a few times, finally coming to a halt thanks to a nearby tree. She was on me before I could even draw the next breath, and yet again, she cracked me over the head with the hilt of the dagger. I would learn to become used to this.

The next time I awoke, It was dark and I was naked, tied to another tree in what looked like a graveyard. I knew I was still in the marsh, but closer to the water. I could hear it. The only thing I could think of was that she stuck me out there so no one would find me, and then she went into Menethil Harbor. I tried my damnedest to wrestle free of my bindings, and I screamed at the top of my lungs through whatever she stuck in my mouth to muffle the noise. All night I writhed, but it was too much. The coldness of the mire, combined with my wounds and me being with child did not allow for my freedom. I did not sleep until the sun rose, and she came to crack my skull again.

It must of taken her all day to row from Baradin Bay to Faldir’s Cove. It was evening once more, so far as I could see through the blood dried to my face. She had clothed me, at least. I had known the place from my travels there about a year earlier, and it was the favorite spot of the well known Blackwater Raiders; A band of pirates who seemed to have good graces with Booty Bay. That being said, I thought I might actually be able to convince one of the men to kill the bitch and set me free for some sort of gold payoff, but what she offered them was too good to pass up. She told them that they could have their way with me, an exotic woman, if they allowed her safe passage to Booty Bay. As it was, she didn’t get off the hook just that easily. She ended up paying them a large sum of gold and gems, probably to ensure her own safety, as well as most of her armor and Saibley’s dagger. They untied me and threw me into a room that looked rather clean for a bunch of pirates. A few minutes went passed, and I took the chance to try and find something to defend myself with, but they had cleared the cabin of anything dangerous. She had tipped them off about my prowess.

The first man who thought he would get lucky entered the room, and I came up from behind and twisted his head, snapping his neck, simple as that. He wasn’t very big. It was easy to do. Of course, they started to get curious as to the quietness of the situation and when the door opened and they saw their comrade laying slack-jawed on the floor, they wasted no time in calling for the captain of the ship, but not before I broke a few of their faces. Again, I thought I might actually have a chance, they were dropping like flies and I wasn’t even hitting them that hard. I wasn’t paying attention to what they looked like, I didn’t care. The last hook I would throw was caught in the large fist of an even larger man, and he took my arm and snapped it back, breaking it like a twig. I screamed, crippled by pain and dropped to my knees immediately. I screamed when he picked me up and slammed me into the bed. I screamed for Jacob, calling for him, hoping desperately that somehow he would hear me and come to my rescue, but this was not the case. I knew that if this man did as he wanted, I would lose Neivala.

The last thing I remember is him uncorking some flask and forcing it down my throat, then lifting my dress.

We were in Booty Bay the next I think I awoke. I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t open my eyes and everything was very hazy and slow, as if I were drunk. He had given me some sort of a potion to knock me out and when I realized this, I wished not to know how many of his pirates touched me. The only thought on my mind was if I still had Neivala with me. This realization lingered in my mind for only a few minutes, until she cracked my skull again, and I was out.

“Oh shit..” I remember Saibley saying that clear as day, despite the shape my head and my body were in. I hadn’t eaten or slept properly in a few days, and when she cut me free I hadn’t even the strength to hold myself up. I couldn’t speak, my jaw was shattered, and my eyes were swollen shut.  My conscience was screaming out, hoping she could read my mind somehow and whisk me away before Esixa came back. I knew that if she were here, Jacob and whoever else were not too far behind. Once more, freedom stared me in the face, and once more it was stolen from me.  I could hear the thumping of saber paws and a chinking of armor, followed by a thud and a yelp from Saibley, then another, louder thud against what I guessed was a tree. I didn’t know it at the time, but we were in Ashenvale as Esixa plucked me up and slumped me over her saber, quickly making a get away from the scene.

We rode for a while, stopping a long bit in between to board a ferry, so it seemed, before taking off again. When we finally stopped, she threw me down onto a ground that was littered in leaves. It had a distinct smell about it, and I recognized it instantly. We were on Bloodmyst Isle. The fact that we were here told me she had no where left to run, that this was her last stand. It was here that either she would die, or I would.

At this point, she had worked herself into a near hysteria, going on about her children and what she would do to me, that she would kill those coming after her and such. She had finally lost it, and despite my condition, I tried to crawl away, but not before she slammed her hoof onto my good arm, crushing it under her weight. I screamed and she laughed. It was then that Jacob, Saibley and Sorinna came charging in. I passed out the second time she ground her hoof into my flesh.

I learned later that Jacob had killed her.

After five or so days and being drug across Azeroth, stabbed, beaten, and taken advantage of, I was finally back at home in the Forge, surrounded by the people that cared about me.

Normally I’d be rather pissed off at this point, and wanting to seek my own revenge somehow, even if the one person who caused me all of this grief was dead. But something happened in between the time I had last passed out and the time I woke up in my bed.

I think it was a combination of Sorinna and Maricella’s healing what was left of my mangled shell of a body, and then my body channeling that energy the only way it could to save itself. It had unlocked those mental pathways that had been shell-shocked closed so long ago in the battle for Shattrath, and by doing that, it reawakened my being able to use the Light. I could heal just as well as I used to, as if Shattrath never even happened.

When I was able to realize this, the flooding of the ability to be able to use the Light again mucked up my mind and memoirs, and I had jumbled up the past with the present. I first thought that I was in the infirmary in Shattrath, talking to medics that I recognized as my friends, but thought were different people entirely at the same time. This lapse in differentiation didn’t last too long though, and I quickly regained my full capacity, with the old ability to use the Light to boot. The most important part of all of this, was that Neivala was fine, completely unharmed. That, I cannot believe.

As horrible as it was, if this didn’t happen, I might of been lost to the depths of anger and rage forever.

Thank you, Esixa.

Dead Men Tell No Tales

McSars trudged down the slope towards the pirate cove. He wasn’t wearing all of his armor, and hid his chestplate and greaves beneath a simple cloak. It gave him the look of a burly monk of some kind. Sheathed beneath the cloak and under the backpack for additional stealth was his sword. He’d decided to travel light, and as such he was appropriately armed.

“Oye, that be three in a row. Pay up or ye be wearin’ that hempen halter soon enough.” A round of laughter went over the few rugged men sitting about the table, drinking and otherwise enjoying themselves and their game of cards. They didn’t notice the man slowly working his way towards them, though the galleon and the large bonfire nearby seemed to do a fine job of hampering their view of the slope.

Unmindful of being seen, the warrior moved towards the dock. While he was certain he could take on the whole damn ship if need be, he had to be careful. Assumptions often ended with the death of the fool that made them, after all. In any case, he thought as he approached the makeshift dock, whatever happens – happens.

As drunk as most of them were, when they finally realized the warrior was within their area, they jumped to arms, pulling out whatever blunderbuss and cutlass they could get their hands on. “Aye ye scallywags, lookie we got ‘ere. Seems an old Light-kind stumbled off the beaten path.” The deep voice came from a large man who seemed to have some sort of commanding authority over the other sailors, and he emerged from behind the gathering to address McSars. “You thar, who ye be? Who ye think you are bargin’ into me territory? We’re the Blackwater Raiders, ye know that?” He called gruffly, brandishing a jug in one hand and a sword in the other.

McSars allowed a harsh tone to creep into his voice. “Of course I know that. I wouldn’t come to this scungy excuse for a port otherwise.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “In any case, I need to speak with someone in charge, someone who’s interested in… Turning a fine profit.”

The man grinned at McSars’ words, his face turning to something grotesque. “Ahh, a toughy we got..” he sneered, turning to the chuckling gathering behind him with the pause. “Yer talkin’ to ‘im. Cap’n Briscoe Merlain.” He took off his cap and bowed, then returning it to his head and crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Profit ye say? What kind ‘o farthins’ a Light-kind dressed like that has to offer, eh?”

“The Light…?” He allowed a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve found the Shadow to be a lot more honest. But that’s neither her nor there. What I have to say also isn’t for just any of your ‘scallywags’. Just for the top men.” He met Briscoe’s gaze, giving him the kind of thousand yard stare only a Scourge war veteran has.

Briscoe narrowed his eyes as the steely blue struck him. “Alright then.” Turning he waved his hand and barked at the men like a sheep dog. “Ye scurvy dogs better stay put or so ‘elp me ye’ll be joinin’ yer mates in tha Maiden’s Folly!” Another grin and he motioned with the jug to the gangplank of the ship that was crudely connecting the vessel to the bank. “We’ll talk in my quarters, below deck.” Snickering to himself, he lumbered onward, taking a swig as he went.

McSars went as he was directed. He walked with a calm stride, as if he wasn’t surrounded by a group of dangerous cuthroats. Of course he was gauging them as a threat, and decided most of them would be little trouble – but the captain and his top men might be. Every now and then if he met the gaze of one of the men he’d narrow his eyes – just slightly – until they looked away.

The captain nodded to two rather large men standing idly below the deck as he descended down the wooden stairs, then raising a hand as they raised their weapons. “Business, Hector, Dougal. Ye’ll know if ‘e pulls any funny business.” They hesitated a moment, looking between each other and lowering their arms, saluting the man as he walked by them and around the corner to his chamber. Unhooking the loaded keyring from his cinch, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, standing there and waiting for the warrior to take one of the empty seats around the surprisingly clean table.

McSars took the seat and regarded the captain. “I’m going to be completely plain with you. I’m a veteran of the Scourge war. While I was fighting up there – fighting, surviving, whatever you like – I learned the location of a cache of valuables of some noble family. They’d planned to come back for it later, but had a run in with some ghouls. I don’t stand a chance going in there alone, and I can’t afford some Light-wielding do-gooder donating it all to the family’s relatives – so I’ve come to you.”
He kept watch on the captain. “I’m actually willing to let you and your men take it all. I don’t need it, really. What I want in exchange for the location is information. Give me what I need to know and I’ll guide you there myself.”

Briscoe scoffed as he took the chair opposite McSars, taking the pipe on the table and lighting it leisurely. “Got a sore spot for ’em nobles, eh vet’ran?” He spoke with a lowered tone, all the while still as raspy. Pausing a moment, he studied McSars hard before puffing the thing. “I’ll tell ye what. Tell me yer name and I’ll tell ye what I may or may not know ’bout..” he shrugs, “Whatever it be ye want. Don’t think ye kin pull one over me eyes. This old salt’s seen ‘is fair share o’ hornswaggle if I ever did.”

McSars nodded slowly. “I’m the Armsmaster. My current assignment is to locate a draenei named Lycannon. Wanted dead or alive, preferably alive. Someone got to her before me, for personal reasons of some sort. I intend to relieve them of her, preferably without any bloodshed. What can you tell me?”

The captain bellows a hearty laugh, taking a moment to enjoy it. When he recovered, he shook his head and leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs and propping them up on the table. “I kin tell ye she’s a fine piece to ‘ave, I know ‘at. Bit shapely for me tastes, but fine jus the same.” He smirks, the dim room hiding his features some. “‘Er friend on the other hand ain’t so charmin’, which is why I s’pose she offered this Lycan to us in return fer a safe voyage to Booty Bay.” Pausing, he pointed his thumb to the bed. “Real feisty woman, kept screamin’ some name, started with a ‘J’ ifin’ I kin remember. Trollop bloodied some o’ me men’s noses, tha’s fer sure. But, wasn’t ain’t nothin’ a little o’ sleepin’ potion couldn’t fix, am I right?” Another laugh, followed by cough roared from the man, and he patted his chest to clear his lungs.

“Of course, of course.” He gave a nod, looking towards the bed. “Must have been disappointing to see her go.” Discipline, discipline, discipline. The captain’s fate, and that of his men, was sealed. Patience, soldier. Just a little more information.

“I’d never pay a coin fer a woman, even one with a good right hook.” Briscoe shrugged. “She served ‘er purpose, as beat up as she were.” He clicked his tongue and grinned wickedly, meeting McSars’ gaze. “Frien’ drug her off o’ our Man-O-War near as quick as she rowed up in that lil’ boat of ‘ers. Said somethin’ bout Ratchet an’ took off.” he snaps his fingers, “Jus like ‘at.”

“Just like that.”

The table wasn’t much of an impediment. It was actually broken in half from the force of both McSars charging into it and it hitting the captain. There was little finesse in his initial attack. His first action was to grab the scruff of the man’s neck with one hand and with the other, put his fist through his face – quite literally. The first punch may even have killed him, the second one made doubly sure of it. Pulling his dripping fist from the pirate’s skull, McSars drew his sword. As far as he knew, everyone had touched his Lycannon. Logically, therefore, they must all die.
He picked up the captain’s scimitar and brandished both it and his sword as the two bodyguards entered. In a whirlwind of steel, the enraged soldier charged through the men and up the stairs. He would not stop until every single pirate on the ship was dead.

Esixa had also just signed her own death warrant.