Setrema
11-23-2010, 04:43 PM
This tale is not a happy one. It will not be a heartwarming legend, nor a loving ending for a princess. The is no white knight upon a steed, or a power to save the world. Some consider her brilliant, most consider her addled to say the least. What is to be discussed her is not her glorious deeds, nor her controversial life. This damsel's tale is not to end well.
Many know of the name, few know of the woman.
Lady Setrema Spellweaver, former Magistrix of the fair city of Silvermoon.
A name that will chill some and cause others to smile with an uncomfortable pleasure. She has done much during her few years on Azeroth, but how much of that really matters.
Her latest adventure was the efforts to aid the defense of Horde cities from the Elemental forces aiming to destroy any trace of their troubled life. That was not their place, it was to be hers. Few knew of Setrema's devotion to destroying life on this miserable planet. She figured it to be plagued with women of loose morals and uncontrolled idiocy. Such a state of existence needn't continue any longer. She was to be the one to the destroyer.
Needless to say, she wanted to protect her crop from the infestation. So she answered the calls of the troubled and endangered citizens, slaying elementals uncounted and closing rifts most dangerous. She did it unaided by her long lost friends, people and creatures whom she had somehow lost in the confusion of the few months past. Any idiot could swing a sword or pitchfork at an animate mess of fire, or swing blindly at a raging cyclone.
Admittedly, they proved useful, but they were insignificant. Somehow she would have felt better about standing side by side with Nymare, felt more secure knowing Lythas would have mended any wounds she would encounter. Hell, she would have even appreciated Him burning their foes with her. Lysimachus, Sabeinne, Vaaldis... where were they?
After dealing with the forces that seemed never ending for what must have been for hours, exhaustion was finally beginning to take its toll on her frail body. Her neck ached from the encounter with the cyclone that seemed to grip around it, choking her. Her throat was hoarse from reciting spells continuously. She could hardly stand or even lift her hands to raise a magical barrier to protect herself.
Things were beginning to look most dire.
There she stood, hands dropped to her side hanging lifeless. Panting heavily and almost doubled over in pain from the exertion, Setrema thought to herself there would be a moment of rest, finally. She heard screams and wails from a few individuals around her, but she stood there momentarily bewildered. Then it occurred to her, she should look up.
Falling. There was a gigantic boulder falling from the cliffs of Orgrimmar above her. She was mentally exhausted and couldn't blink out of the way, and her body was in no condition to leap out of the way quickly enough. It was going to land.
As Setrema lay there, pinned painfully under the boulder she tried to concentrate on anything other than the pain. She grinded her jaws, hoping to bear the agony at least gracefully. Tears began to swell in her eyes, she knew it wouldn't be much longer. As she thought of everything that had passed in her life, she was disgusted by the fact that she didn't get to see her friends more, and that her goal would not be completed by her.
What a waste.
Many know of the name, few know of the woman.
Lady Setrema Spellweaver, former Magistrix of the fair city of Silvermoon.
A name that will chill some and cause others to smile with an uncomfortable pleasure. She has done much during her few years on Azeroth, but how much of that really matters.
Her latest adventure was the efforts to aid the defense of Horde cities from the Elemental forces aiming to destroy any trace of their troubled life. That was not their place, it was to be hers. Few knew of Setrema's devotion to destroying life on this miserable planet. She figured it to be plagued with women of loose morals and uncontrolled idiocy. Such a state of existence needn't continue any longer. She was to be the one to the destroyer.
Needless to say, she wanted to protect her crop from the infestation. So she answered the calls of the troubled and endangered citizens, slaying elementals uncounted and closing rifts most dangerous. She did it unaided by her long lost friends, people and creatures whom she had somehow lost in the confusion of the few months past. Any idiot could swing a sword or pitchfork at an animate mess of fire, or swing blindly at a raging cyclone.
Admittedly, they proved useful, but they were insignificant. Somehow she would have felt better about standing side by side with Nymare, felt more secure knowing Lythas would have mended any wounds she would encounter. Hell, she would have even appreciated Him burning their foes with her. Lysimachus, Sabeinne, Vaaldis... where were they?
After dealing with the forces that seemed never ending for what must have been for hours, exhaustion was finally beginning to take its toll on her frail body. Her neck ached from the encounter with the cyclone that seemed to grip around it, choking her. Her throat was hoarse from reciting spells continuously. She could hardly stand or even lift her hands to raise a magical barrier to protect herself.
Things were beginning to look most dire.
There she stood, hands dropped to her side hanging lifeless. Panting heavily and almost doubled over in pain from the exertion, Setrema thought to herself there would be a moment of rest, finally. She heard screams and wails from a few individuals around her, but she stood there momentarily bewildered. Then it occurred to her, she should look up.
Falling. There was a gigantic boulder falling from the cliffs of Orgrimmar above her. She was mentally exhausted and couldn't blink out of the way, and her body was in no condition to leap out of the way quickly enough. It was going to land.
As Setrema lay there, pinned painfully under the boulder she tried to concentrate on anything other than the pain. She grinded her jaws, hoping to bear the agony at least gracefully. Tears began to swell in her eyes, she knew it wouldn't be much longer. As she thought of everything that had passed in her life, she was disgusted by the fact that she didn't get to see her friends more, and that her goal would not be completed by her.
What a waste.