Unbroken [OPEN]

[Leoren]

[Note: Didn’t want to hijack the other Cataclysm Aftermath (http://wow-tng.org/showthread.php?t=20676) thread with the guild storyline we’ve been running in game since the shattering happened as this thread is primarily for those wanting to get more involved in the events surrounding the Raven Cross’ guild RP. That being said, guild members and non guilded members alike are welcome to join in. Whether it’s directly assisting or even just being one of the refugees mentioned! The rules are fairly open, just please make sure to discuss with other players if you’re wanting to engage with their characters in any direct manner as a lot of this is primarily a reflection of an event carrying on in game. Hopefully we’re looking to roughly have some sort of closure by the December 7th (for obvious reasons!)]


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Since Leoren’s return, he could not help but feel how the world had changed since the one he remembered inside his prison. Yes, there was still war. Azeroth never seemed to change on that front, whether between the Horde and Alliance or against whichever villain threatened to enslave them all. Now? It seemed the people on all sides had to go to war with the very earth itself. Unending waves of elementals tore their way across the great cities and capitals of civilization, and despite whatever apprehension one might have had in the face of all the doomsayers, even the most resolute had to concede that there wasn’t anywhere left truly safe.

He would have liked to have said such worrisome thoughts were all that were troubling him, but there were a bevy of other matters unresolved. Some concerned him as a Patriarch while others were more personal. They often found him on quiet and unaccompanied patrols like this. It was a rare moment then for Leoren to find much respite, the elf still tending to more than just his wounds and scars following his recent captivity. Yet that is exactly what he found in an idle moment noticing the sunset over the horizon of Thousand Needles. The earth was still and there didn’t seem to be any distress signals warning of the alliance.


http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s27/Hshafruddin/LastSunset.jpg


If only for a few minutes, he would remember the new promise he had made for himself only just recently. For so many excuses Leoren had believed as reasons, he had allowed himself to live perpetually haunted and conflicted over the past few years. No path is without burden, he knew this well, but too often he could not recognize what he had become to manage it all. His stoicism guarded him well, but it also left him jaded and cold. Somewhere along the way he realized he needed to remember just why he had started fighting in the first place. If only for a few minutes, he would just smile and enjoy the fleeting touch of sunlight on his face. Even in the face of so much turmoil and despair, he would remember what it was to hope.

A small, self-deprecating grin followed soon after, chiding himself in mild amusement at his own existential quandary. He felt a bit silly, half expecting some teasing jeer from Chikt or some other onlooker who might have knew him. Leoren was hardly the luckiest sort of fellow around in such things. Either way, it was time to get back to Sun Rock and get some rest, he thought. Optimism or no, the days ahead would be hard and he’d need what strength his body could afford. Smiling politely at the guards keeping their post, he made his way to the flight master and was away as swiftly as his wind rider could carry the armored knight.

Little did he suspect how Azeroth that night would be changed forever.

Leoren had only made it to the Barrens before he suddenly heard that thundering, terrible roar echo all across a sky that just as quickly began to redden like fire. He could see the earth tremble beneath his flight, far more violently than any of the tremors that had previously come to bear. Even his mount, a creature so commonly regarded for their fearlessness, began to buckle and wail in what could only have been read as terror. What was this… ? He didn’t want to believe the words lurking in the dark recesses of his thoughts, the implausible but terrifying proclamations and prophecies of the lost and insane. Was this the end of the world? Before any answer could possibly even be considered, a black and monstrous silhouette burst from the fires into view.


http://img9.imageshack.us/img9/6345/deathwing2q.jpg


It would be the very last thing Leoren would remember before the darkness took him.

The sun had risen by the time Leoren would awake to the cacophony of screaming cries and directionless stampeding. His wind rider lay dead beneath him, most likely having saved the elf by breaking the fall. As noble (and likely inadvertent) as the sacrifice had been, there was barely enough time to get a sense for all the chaos breaking around him, let alone to mourn. His own stitches came undone, wounds already tender naturally worsened alongside all the additions. It made lifting himself to stand, or at least something resembling the act, all the more difficult. What he could see was all very blurry at first, a conscious effort on his part averting passing out again entirely. Droves of Orcs, Taurens and Trolls seemed just as lost as he was, if not even more so. At least hundreds could be seen, and far less actually able to help themselves even stand. And what Leoren could see of the land itself? It was a nightmarish disfigurement of what it once was, new ravines of lava and fire scarring and burning the land.

Leoren didn’t know who that black specter was; no dragon he knew to be alive and accounted for could have caused such destruction and carnage without warning. As his hearing became just clear enough, he would hear one name stand out amidst the uncoordinated cries.

Deathwing.

And all at once memories came flooding back that Leoren could not help but remember. The tales and stories he had heard of the beast long presumed dead since the Second War.

‘… the bane of life, the darkness within history, the lord of death, the master of destruction.’

Leoren gritted his teeth at the thought, but at least was certain of one thing as he witnessed everything around him: The world hadn’t ended. Not yet. As he hefted and secured his armor and blade through the reeling pain of his body, he knew he didn’t have the luxury of collapsing or giving into the panic. He steeled himself as best as he could, unearthing his hearthstone from his person. Lifting it to his bloodied lips he began to speak in a voice betraying his condition, strong and unwavering.

“This is Leoren speaking. As of this moment, until further notice the Raven Cross is suspending all offensive initiatives against the Alliance. This is now officially a search and rescue operation. For those of you who can hear me, we’ll set up in Sun Rock Retreat to provide a safe haven, medical assistance and help get these refugees in the region out safely.”

He paused, silently aware of how many he personally cared for were meant to be in the immediate area at the time of the attack…

“There’s a lot of lives that we can still save, and I need you all to be strong. Remember your Creeds. Lok’tar Ogar Ravens.”

[Izelle]

The two elves sat there, content in silence, sipping on their warm honey and goldthorn tea. It had been a silent life for the last few months. Neither elf had seen battle, neither had seen a friend die, go missing, or just straight up disappear. They had left their lives, loved ones and responsibilities behind to hide away in what they had thought would be serenity and safety. Little did they know that their entire world was about to come crashing down around them...

The first shakes had started a few days ago. The earth moaned, and in Izelle's mind, was crying out like a woman in labor. Something was very wrong, and nothing but whisperings had reached her ears. It was maddening being so far from everyone, from the battle lines. But she had told herself this was what was best for her son, for herself even. He needed to grow up away from carnage and death to understand what living was truly like. It seemed that wasn't going to ever happen.

Eurielle looked up from her tea cup as the ripples started deep in the golden liquid. Her emerald eyes caught hold of Izelle's as the walls around them shook and groaned, tired of holding up through the persistent abuse of the previous days.

After a few moments it ceased, and they were left staring at one another. Izelle slid her tea cup towards Eurielle's until the ceramic lips touched. With a heavy sigh she stood up. No longer clad in armor, but light cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt, the elf looked quite different than she had in her previous life. Still, the faint sunlight streaming in through the windows caught her red hair just right, giving off the faint illusion of flames.

"I can't do this anymore, Euri..." Izelle placed her hands flat on the table, leaning forward to look at her cousin. The two had bonded over the last few months. Now much more than simple distant relatives, the two had been each others confidant and friend.

The Priestess nodded her head, emerald eyes no longer focused on the Paladin in front of her, but now carefully examining the two tea cups.

"It was to come eventually... I knew this life wasn't for you." She smiled up at the woman leaning on the table, giving her a hint of a smirk. "You just can't keep your hands out of the dirt."

A soft smile passed over Izelle's features. "No. No I can't..."

At that moment Xedrial walked into the room, tiredly clinging to a wooden murloc that Eara had carved for him.

"Mama?" Izelle quickly walked over and scooped the tired toddler into her arms.

He rested his cheek against her shoulder, eying Eurielle curiously. "Aunty El... the room shaked..."

The Priestess looked up lovingly at her nephew and nodded. "I felt it. Were you scared?"

The small boy shook his head full of red locks back and forth. "No! I was seeping!" The indignant frown that passed over his face made both the Priestess and Paladin laugh.

As the last giggles were chased from the air, the two woman exchanged a long glance over Xedrial's head. Time was running short, and they both could feel it. Something was changing and they were frightened not at it's coming, but at the sheer mystery of the unknown.

------

The next morning came quickly and without too many more earthquakes. Izelle packed Xedrial's things into a canvas bag that she slung over Eurielle's shoulder. The toddler watched as his mother walked into the back of the house, picking through a closet full of plate and chain.

"What'cha dewin' mama?" She looked over her shoulder at the elf-child, giving him a wink.

"Just looking for something. Go out with Aunty El, hmm? I'll be done in a moment."

He reluctantly left the Paladin to her searching and wandered out to sit on his aunt's lap. She hummed something softly as he wound his small fingers in her long auburn hair.

"What's mama dewin'?"

A soft sigh left Eurielle's lips. "She's getting ready to go to Sunrock. Do you remember Sunrock?"

The boy shook his head back and forth. "No."

Eurielle nodded once. "It was a long time ago. That's where the Ravens are. You remember Leoren?"

He looked at her with his large sea-green eyes. "No. Did he live in the sun rocks?"

Eurielle chuckled at that, running her hand over the toddler's head. "Something like that. Your mama's going to go talk to him." She eyed her hearthstone a moment. His voice had been so clear, so real. Both her and Izelle had jumped when the hearthstone had squawked the night before. It was unexpected to say the least. Eurielle had kept it close, but for the most part it had been quiet. Or perhaps she had drown out the calls, knowing that there was no going back. Not for her, at least.

Izelle walked out, fully clad in plate mail. Her hair was tied back into it's regular ponytail, and carved bones and beads hung from fresh new braids in her red hair. On her left cheek was still-wet war paint, and both her sword and shield hung from their proper places.

Eurielle gave her a smile as Xedrial jumped off of her lap and ran to his freshly armored mother. Izelle knelt to take him into her arms, burying her face in between his small shoulder and neck. He giggled and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck in much the same fashion. She stood, Xedrial in one arm, other hand on the hilt of her sword. Giving Eurielle a nod the three left their house, closing and locking the door behind them.


------

They rode for a day, due south into the Swamp of Sorrows and then into the Blasted Lands from there. Xedrial was kept on Izelle's horse, held tightly in her free arm as they rode. He made soft 'ooh' and 'aah' noises as they passed by burned landscapes, deep swamplands and strange creatures that his young eyes had never seen. Eurielle kept a steady pace behind the Paladin, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of threat or ambush.

They made it to the Dark Portal without any trouble, which was troubling itself to Izelle. There had been a time where it was a fight just to walk a road alone, let alone ride through several territories without so much as a glance at another person.

They dismounted and tied the horses a ways back from the portal itself. The beats got squeamish around the large glowing abyss. Izelle carried Xedrial to the threshold, kissing him at close intervals. He smiled sleepily, eying the big gate with little to no care. He was Rethsil's boy, alright.

Eurielle pulled a hood up to cover her face, turning to look at Izelle before handing over her own hearthstone. "I'll contact you as soon as we reach Nagrand. If worse comes to worse and the earthquakes ruin the gate, there's portals in Shattrath."

Izelle gave her a smile. "I know you'll always find a way. You're the resourceful one. I'm just the meat shield." She handed Eurielle her hearthstone and kissed the Priestess' forehead. They exchanged a quick glance before Izelle set Xedrial down on his feet. He looked up at his mother, now slightly confused. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you going wif us?" He blinked twice.

Izelle sighed and kissed his forehead. "You know, your mama forgets how smart you are sometimes. Silly, really." Xedrial continued to stare. "Mama has to go to Sunrock. Your godfather is there, and she needs to check up on him. Make sure he's still kicking

"Why is he kicking?"

Izelle rubbed the bridge of her nose, chuckling softly. "Because that's what he does. He's a kicker." She swooped in to peck him on the head, whispering against his hair. "I love you Xedrial Sunspiral. Be a good boy for your Aunty El until I come for you."

He smiled up at her and patted her cheek with his small hand. "You be a good boy until -I- come for -you-." He giggled at her then scampered off to his aunt's waiting arms. Izelle rolled her eyes as she got back to her feet. The boy had channeled Thalarios somehow...

Izelle raised a hand in farewell as Eurielle and Xedrial did the same. She watched them until their forms were eaten by the green glow of the portal, then turned and mounted her war horse.

It was back into the fray, back to the Nest, back to the life that she had reluctantly left behind.

Back to Sunrock.

[Creedy]

Footstep by footstep, Creedy crept closer and closer to the unsuspecting elemental. Within the shadows he pulled out his two most trusted friends; his barber blades. Smirking at his own reflection within them, he turned back to his prey. The elemental attacks had given him the brightest idea; he realized that the elements contained equitable goods; precious metals and attributes that others were willing to pay handsomely for. Just as he began to approach the creature, his pack buzzed and a voice spoke from it:


“This is Leoren speaking. As of this moment, until further notice the Raven Cross is suspending all offensive initiatives against the Alliance. This is now officially a search and rescue operation. For those of you who can hear me, we’ll set up in Sun Rock Retreat to provide a safe haven, medical assistance and help get these refugees in the region out safely.”

The earthy elemental turned and bellowed ash, compromising Creedy’s position. Yelling in outrage, Creedy blinded the beast with a fungal poison powder and took off. Huffing as slumped behind a tree, Creedy pulled out his Goblin Army Knife, which contained his communications device. Far superior than that Gnomish knockoff, he thought to himself as he turned the buzzer off. He would have to invent a “silence” feature for it. He replayed the message and shook his head as he listened.

This new chief was beginning to bug Creedy with his ideals and morals. Creedy was in it for the mula, the doe, the profit. Some called him “Crazy Creedy”, but even Creedy wasn’t foolish enough to offer his services for free. With the undead man Periettel no longer leading, The Cross was changing- and Creedy didn’t like where it was going. Granted they “claimed” it was reverting back to its original Creeds, but Creedy never really liked the old ones. Since Periettel’s disappearance, Creedy had been clinging to the idea that the Cross might change its mind, but as each day passed and the Forsaken Creedy had willingly called boss still AWOL, Creedy was getting antsy.

He had no doubt this “safe haven” medical service was going to be free of charge; the Elves that had begun to infest the Cross in the last few weeks boasted they followed a higher cause. Didn’t they realize what he saw? The Cross had nearly died and was in no shape to help against that Human Lich guy up north, yet the world survived. Was this any different? Creedy didn’t think so. The Horde always had heroes; and they always triumphed. Those same heroes needed supplies and services, as well as people that kept the annoying Alliance off their backs while they saved Azaroth. Creedy had no trouble profiting from war, it was consistent business. This Elf seems to want the members of the Cross to be the actual heroes he was profiting from… heroes that forked out loads of money and stuck their necks out for praise and fame. Did those things make someone rich? No. Why did Leoren insist on being the hero? To kill the next biggest threat for the greater good? And they call ME crazy, Creedy thought.

Creedy turned off the channel. He would head to Sun Rock Retreat; he owed the group that had gotten him out of Stormwind that much… but his coin purse and his patience were wearing thin.

[Imara]

Imara circled slowly over the Thousand Needles. For days, she had been traveling around Kalimdor tracking and rescuing refugees. She had been taking many of them to Thunder Bluff, once the Raven Cross' resources had been stretched to the limit at Sun Rock. It seemed there was no shortage of people to save in the wake of the recent disasters.

Against her better judgement, she had even been rescuing some of the Alliance. They had all been civilians, their soldiers could rot for all she cared, but she still felt a little uneasy. There was a disturbingly large part of her that wanted revenge. It wasn't a familiar feeling but it was there nonetheless. She knew in her heart that she wasn't the type to slaughter innocents or raze villages and it was unnerving to feel the bile rising in her throat at the thought of what had happened in Taurajo.

Even as the ground had been ripping apart beneath their feet, the Alliance had chosen to escalate the war.

Imara was brought back to the moment as she closed in on Westreach Summit. She had been able to see the smoke from the funeral pyres from miles away and now she could see the outpost's inhabitants as they prepared more bodies for burial. One of the braves looked up as the giant bird approached. Seeming to recognize her, he nodded once and stepped away from the body he had just finished preparing.

Imara landed next to the body and slowly shifted. The body was wrapped in funeral vestments but the rather handsome face of the older Tauren woman was still visible. Imara knelt and slipped a dark brown and black feather into the wraps around the deceased woman's hands. Stepping back, Imara nodded to the brave and he lifted the body and placed it onto the nearest pyre.

Several moments passed, and Imara watched quietly as the flames began to engulf the body. "Tawaporah ishte shne chi, washte."

With that, Imara shifted in a rustle of feathers and took off for Sun Rock.

[Vakshna]

After his brief exposure to Northrend, Rahyn had returned to Stranglethorn Vale to participate in the games, it had been their dream, to become famous gladiators and fight side by side in the ring for honor and glory. With the Death of his troll comerade the druid knew little else of what to do with his life. So he went to the Gurubashi arena and enlisted as a gladiator. Being well versed in shapeshifting for combat, and having a natural apptitiude for healing magic made him a versatile opponent. But even for being a massive Tauren with all that weight and muscle to throw around, it meant little when he still lacked experience.

The tremors as of late had helped some in the arena, while he was shifted into a bear or cat, he was on all fours, so his balance was as good as any experienced fighter, some of the newer combatants would lose their grip and give Rahyn the oppurtunity to get in a 'Game-changing blow' As the Goblin ring master called it. Still, they unnerved him, he was not as attuned to the earth as he used to be. But even so he knew these tremors were out of place here, and a bad sign.

One day while licking hiis wounds from his most recent defeat against a Orc 'Death Knight', the druid treked off into the jungle to meditate amongst the wilds, too see if he could get some peace of mind about the unnatural occurences plaguing his thoughts. he wasn't far outside the arena when the world began to shake violently again. The Tauren stood his ground, braced for the quake. Only this time it didn't stop. The earth cracked and crumbled in front of him, water poured down in torrents, the sea's churned with violent tendencies. Even being as estranged from his roots as he was, he could feel the pain of the Earthmother crying out, it forced the Tauren to his knees, holding his head in agony, then suddenly it all went black. The druid awoke to finding himself on the edge of a cliff face overlooking a violent Maelstrom that seem to split the vale in two.

"What has happend here?" Rahyn said shocked.

If this destruction occured here, surely the rest of azeroth must have felt it's quake. I must find out what destruction has occured, and help those who I can.

With that, the Druidic Gladiator turned into a raven, and flew off across the jungle.

[Serenity]

Another small group of refugees, this one appearing to be part of a family of orcs and a couple of tauren, wandered into Sun Rock at around mid-day. The secluded and normally placid mountain village, nestled in the central Stonetalon Mountains, was far from its usual quiet tranquility; evacuees had been filtering in for over a fortnight since the elementals began their attacks on Azerothians, many seeking shelther and refuge from the manifestations from the shamans and warriors of Sun Rock Retreat. But it was Deathwing's devestating appearance back into the world that truly made it a bastion of shelter and security, and even that protection was cast in doubt as reports of the Black Aspect prowling Azeroth slowly began to spread.

This is now officially a search and rescue operation. Leoren had promptly chosen Sun Rock as the center of the Raven Cross's operations, but Serenity was unsure if he realized the strain he was putting on local resources. While many of the Ravens were patrolling Kalimdor for people displaced and made homeless, she had decided to stay in Sun Rock and help tend to the injured. The inn was running at more than full capacity for days, with makeshift bedrolls lining the walls and down the center of the room. Camps of tents and shanties were set up outside, usually in clusters that surrounded a shared fire pit.

It only took a moment's thought, however, to realize she wouldn't have chosen anywhere better. The Raven Cross's headquarters and infrastructure was located here, and she couldn't have imagined attending to this size an influx of destitute refugees without the Cross's medical supplies nearby. But even that supply would eventually start to dwindle...

"Gereck," she called, noticing the orc finishing his makeshift treatment on an injured warrior's leg. Gereck was Sun Rock's resident stable master, but like many of the locals, he helped with the refugees as often as he could. Many of the shamans helped tend to the wounded, some of the guards helped set up the provisional housing, others went out hunting and foraging to help meet the ever-rising demand for food. Many of the able-bodied refugees were assisting, too.

"What do you need?" he asked when he approached her. He looked like hell, tired and without a good night's sleep in days, but Serenity was sure everyone looked just as bad.

"Over there, another family and those tauren just arrived. Find that family a shelter, build one if you must, then get some sleep. You look like you could use some rest. I'll see about the tauren."

For once, Gereck didn't complain about getting a rest. She hadn't known him for very long, but like a lot of orcs, they seemed stubborn to her ideas. The last time she suggested he get some sleep, she was fairly sure he stayed up for another half-day just to spite her.

"Throm'ka," Serenity greeted the pair of tauren, saluting wearily.

[Chikt]

A week ago, Unulu had been standing on the ridge overlooking Sun Rock - the day that Deathwing came. His concerns about how the Elementals were involved was proven right - but there was little satisfaction in being right in this circumstance. Once the damage was done, he'd spent the next week following Leoren's orders - rescuing refugees, surveying the damage. Deathwing was powerful and he had no doubt that the dragon was responsible for much of the damage done - but the Elementals arrival meant the damage would only become more severe. This was no longer just a wound upon Azeroth - it was infected. And the best they could hope for at this point was a scar.

Even as the Elemental Attacks stopped, both sides seizing the opportunity to get back at eachothers throats - usually Unulu would have thanked some higher power that there'd be no more pussy-footing around. But this was not the circumstances he was hoping for - if Deathwing was free, that meant the entire Elemental plane had come with him, and there was damage done that they were not yet even aware of. He'd expressed his concerns to Leoren - he knew the Paladin understood. These were his last few days with the Raven Cross, before he'd need to go and do what he'd spent an eternity doing.

Kill his own kind.

Now as he stood overlooking Sun Rock once more, the town had been transformed. The Raven Cross had bolstered its defenses, the town was packed full of refugees and injured soldiers from the fighting in the valley. Even more daunting was the arrival of Alliance refugees - Unulu would sooner killt hem than save them. But he realized all the same - this was not the war it used to be. Nor was it his war any longer... or at least, for the time being.

Removing his tabard, Unulu folded it carefully and looked at the black cross emblazoned on blood red. Perhaps once the elemental threat was dealt with he could return again - history had a way of repeating itself. But now, the best way for him to assist the Raven Cross was from afar.

Sliding the folded tabard between his belt and mail robe, Unulu took a deep breath and nod once before turning on a hoof and beginning the long trip North.

In Leoren's tent in Sun Rock was a note in an envelope, resting upon his bed. It's contents read quite simply.

Give them hell.

[Leoren]

Sun Rock Retreat was untouched. For all the devastation and change that surrounded its sturdy valleys and cliffs, it remained as it always had. As Leoren made his way across the camp, helping with the entirely unglamorous job of preparing fresh bedrolls for newcomers, the contrast to the usual daily affairs made him think to the not too distant past. He remembered well the decision to move the Cross away from the enclosure almost a whole year earlier; knowing full well their presence had been what had drawn so many Alliance attacks to the region in the past. At first it was difficult to escape the feeling they were abandoning a part of themselves, but at the time it had to be done. Didn’t it?

Despite the seeming need at time, Leoren was never really sure. Perhaps that’s why it was easier to accept the choice for the Raven Cross’ return to the retreat having been made in his absence. Whatever the reasoning was, the present circumstances had only strengthened his resolve to stay. Kalimdor was where the Horde suffered the most from the recent turmoil, with Sun Rock Retreat in the eye of its storm.

It was not enough that Deathwing had irrevocably shattered the land. Whatever the state of the world, the mass destruction did not stymy war for the Horde, from without or within. Both the Horde and Alliance wasted no time martialling their armies into the other’s territories amidst the chaos. Closer to home there was the Grimtotem uprising in Thunder Bluff, the violence having driven out countless from what should have been a safe haven during the cataclysm.

The politics of the world seemed so distant to Leoren. Though he knew they would shape things yet to come, the here and now was a crisis, and the people he swore to protect were in need.

His people…

What did that even mean anymore?

He couldn’t help but reflect on the notion with the subtlest pangs of cynicism as he looked over the crowded encampment, the makeshift tents and triage centers trying to make order of the bustling madness. All manner of survivors were there from across the Horde. Though the majority comprised of Tauren, Orc and Troll (in that order), there were some Forsaken and Blood Elves too. Not more than a decade earlier would most of these races have been considered the enemy. Not more than a few hours earlier would that thought’s inception trouble him so very deeply.

Living the creeds of the Raven Cross in the heat of battle was one thing, living them off the field felt another thing entirely. That very morning Leoren was one of the few available healers to tend to the wounded, and was hardly the most proficient at that. With limited time, resources and capabilities, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when a decision concerning the lives of two nameless patients had to be made.

The first was a Sin’Dorei woman, couldn’t have been much older than Anorah – in fact from a distance Leoren briefly feared it might have been her. That was of course before he could better make out what the fire left of her face. The second a troll youth, he was perhaps only just old enough to be deemed an adult. Both seemed to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Their wounds were similar enough to suggest the same band of elementals attacked the pair, the only distinction between the two the severity of their burns. They were both critical, but the initial read suggested he was at least still responsive to what limited treatment was available, no amount of healing seeming to lessen the other’s condition. Leoren knew the choice he had to make, but couldn’t escape the guilt it left in him. He could still save the Troll, but only if he abandoned the woman to her fate. A fellow Sin’Dorei. They were after all the very people he swore to never abandon again after the Scourge nearly annihilated them all, an oath which would only later extend to the rest of the Horde.

What if it had been Anorah? His stomach only churned more at the thought. He tried not to dwell on the fact he had yet to hear from her since the attacks.

In the end, he was able to bring the troll back into a stable condition even though the other passed away. Why couldn’t Leoren find some measure of peace then? The ideals of the Cross espoused that if the Horde were to have any hope for the future, they couldn’t be divided. They needed a symbol to inspire and break down the racial barriers which threatened the unity that they’d need to survive. He was one of the first to preach it, yet in that briefest of moments he felt himself so desperately in need of faith in it.

No doubt it was a time of uncertainty for more than just he alone. The Creed of Refuge gave what guidance it could, but it could only help so far. Among the refugees there’d even be the occasional alliance civilian, desperation for shelter from the rampant wild fires. As unpopular and uncharacteristic decision it might have proved for the Cross, such lost souls weren’t executed on sight. To the contrary, some were even helped. Though they were hardly afforded the same care or resources as was given to the struggling Horde citizens, so long as it didn’t result in a direct compromise of their duty to their own, assistance was given. Co-habitation of the camp would often be short lived however; anger and hostility of the Horde majority usually arising soon enough in the presence of the far fewer Alliance. It would be a lie to say Leoren did not consider ridding themselves of the stragglers; all-out war with the alliance was almost a certainty with everything that was going on. Yet this wasn’t a battle on the streets of Stormwind or a counter offensive for some regional conflict. Could murder for its own sake be justified? There was no honor in it.

It’s not enough to just survive.

Even these Alliance at the very least deserved to get home – something Leoren saw to where possible, occasional escorts being arranged to leave the few within sight of one of the newer Alliance outposts.

As he made his way out from a tent, he regarded the sky turning a brilliant shade of orange, it was almost evening now. Anything but red was comforting, the paladin still remembering whenever Deathwing would revisit the Stonetalon Mountains. It was almost poetic. For all the times the Raven Cross stood in the defense of these lands, the very earth there would return the favor. The wild fires that Deathwing would spread engulfed much in their path at terrifying speeds, but they never reached the safety of the retreat. The high winds and formation of the cliffs would roll those fires over the encampment every time, the people therein untouched.

Back in his own tent, he readied himself for bed – there was still much to do in the days ahead. As he began to undress, the palm of his hand took a moment to smooth over the blood red fabric of his tabard. More than just lives were in danger with everything that was happening; this much he was sure of. In the darkest of times, the convictions which can define the spirit of a people can also be undone. If only speaking for himself, today would not be that day. Despite all his doubt and uncertainty, he knew down to the fiber of his being that there were some causes he’d never stop fighting for. His hand was briefly resting on the blackened symbol on his tabard. Despite everything, some things would remain unbroken.