A Blood Elf among savages.

This thread is for stories about my Blood Elf Paladin, Scuzy Sunburn.

These stories take place after her discharge from the Blood Knight Guard after trying to bring the corrupted souls of their leaders to justice.

---

Bloodnose.

There she stood, on top of a great cliff overlooking the strange village of Shri-La. The coastal wind howled past her thick armor and made her white mantle flutter, but it did not seem to effect the lone elf. She stood there, perfectly still, a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. This was the third night with no sleep, the third night of watch after a day of physical training under the Mancleaver's watchful eye. She was so exhausted, so perfectly drained that she found herself in an almost blissful meditative state, every last bit of energy was directed at keeping her legs from caving in, and keeping her luminous eyes open... And alert. But nothing moved. A third night now, and nothing moved.

This was her penance. Her punishment for being so wrong, so blind. She had discarded the Marauders as filth, as darklings, with their warlocks and their undead, with their poor manners and harsh faces. She had returned to Silvermoon, to the Knights Guard, thinking that there she might make a difference, that there she would find kindred spirits, allies in her lonely quest to spread illumination, to help lost souls. To save them. But she had been wrong. The people she put her faith in had been revealed to be darklings, and the single shining beacon of light among the mud had come in a guise she could never have expected. Wouldn't have dared to expect. A crude orc warrior with a steeled and hardened face, an old veteran with a strange speech. But it had been him that stood up when darkness encroached on Silvermoon, on the Knights Guard. Where the elves of Silvermoon where lured to the darkness by the silver tongues of it's advocates, this orc withstood them.

It had shaken her faith to the very core. At first she could not, she would not allow herself to believe it. Darkling trickery, it must have been. A creature so foul and green, lead by violence and anger, could not possibly be luminous. But the more she saw of him, the more she knew it to be true. Then came the day the Knight-Lady revealed herself. Casually, unknowing to the darkness in her soul she confined in Scuzy and told her of her vile deeds. It had been less of a surprise then she would have wanted it to be. The Knight-Lady and Lord where darklings, both of them. They had fallen to corruption and with them, the knights guard would too. She knew what she would have to do, and she knew she could not do it alone. She would go to the Mancleaver. It would be treason in the eyes of the Guard, of the knighthood she had sworn to follow so long ago. But that didn't matter anymore. An oath made to a darkling is an oath made to the void; It holds no meaning. She would have to do what was right.

Then the council meeting. It was decided her and the Mancleaver would tell Silvermoon of the darkness that was growing in their city, and that they would put an end to it. They would stand up, together, paragons of the eternal Light, and the darklings would know their final days where at hand and they would repent their ways, or perish. But the unthinkable happened. Before anything could be done, the Knight Lord exploded. A bomb, sewn into his armor, later revealed to be of Ashen design. Chaos followed, and among the chaos another Ashen agent was identified and brought to prison. Then, when Lady Blightleaf, the Knight-Lady of the guard finally crawled out of the shadows Scuzy arrested her in the name of Light and Kingdom, in name of what was right, for treason against the realm. To her be-bafflement, the guard followed their fallen lady even after her true face was shown, and they escorted Scuzy her out of the city, stripped of her colors and titles, while the darkling Knight-Lady was allowed to sit on her throne of shadows and further the corruption of her people. Thinking about it now sent a shiver down her spine.

She went with the Mancleaver. Back to the Shatterskull Marauders, to a new continent, a new world. She re-took the colors she had forsaken, the colors of a mercenary, and would be taken in as a recruit. And now here she stood, on top of a cliff. Three days no sleep, three days of labor, and many more to follow. She stood without a name, without respect and without honor. Her body and spirit would be broken, the Mancleaver would try to re-shape her to his image. His image of a warrior.

Scuzy smiled. A fitting way to do penance...

Hikka

Scuzy lay awake. The room was dark and quiet, save for the continuous patter of raindrops falling on the roof. It rained often here, in Shri-La village, where the Shatterskull Marauders had made their forward base in Pandaria. There were often nights like this, where Scuzy couldn’t find sleep. After a day of mind-dulling training to keep her worries at bay, her worries found her when she should be resting. Memories of times past and present haunted her. So much had happened in the past two decades, so much had changed. She sighed and rolled over, where her eyes met the closed lids Hikka’s. She was sleeping soundly, her tongue hanging out of her mouth and a steady run of thick troll-saliva wetting the pillow next to hers. Scuzy’s stomach turned for a moment. Ghastly.

Silently Scuzy slipped out from under their shared covers and slid her feet into two little slippers that layed by the side of the bed. She adjusted her nightgown when she stood up and it flowed around her. It was a nice gown, soft and decorated with crane birds and lakes, mirroring the Jade Forest. She didn’t bring many things from Silvermoon when she was expelled from knighthood, and thus had to rely on the hospitality of the local Pandaren. The tailor had to adjust the gown to fit Scuzy’s frail elven frame, and had complained constantly about her being too skinny and small when the bear took her measurements. Scuzy thought it terribly rude and inappropriate, but the Pandaren went about it with such infectious joviality that it was hard to remain aggravated for long. She was pleased with the result; It was a pretty gown, simple, but it fit well. These Pandaren where skilled craftsmen.

Scuzy fumbled with the tinderbox to light a candle on the night stand. She knew she could do it magically, reach for the arcane. The power of the sunwell was always waiting for her, ready to be taken, luring her with it’s sweet song. But she wouldn’t allow it to take hold of her. When she was filled with the arcane, the fel was never far away. It would only take a little bit... The littlest of streams to light that candle, and she would feel alive, complete. She couldn’t allow it, she knew she would want more. She always wanted more. She would long to feel the disgusting, despicable, unholy taint again. So horrific. So sweet. The tips of her eyebrows twitched as she fought the tinderbox. After a couple of tries, she managed to light the candle. It’s flickering flame brought some light to the dark room. She let out a sigh of relief. Hikka moaned in her sleep, scratched her nose and seemed to chew on her tongue a couple of times. Scuzy looked at her until she was sure the troll hadn’t woken up.

Across the room there was a large wooden tub, that served both as a bath and a washbasin. Scuzy was done scowling at it every time she stood before it. It was all she had; It would have to do. She cupped her hands and carefully dipped her face into the cold water, to make as little sound as possible. As the water dripped off her face, she leaned against the tub and looked at her reflection in the big mirror in front of her. The luminescent green eyes of a demon looked back at her. It’d been almost a year since she last felt to touch of fel, but her eyes where a permanent reminder of the crimes she’d committed against the Light, against all that was good. She told herself she didn’t know better back then... It was of little consolation. Barely a year ago she had found solace in the Light and repented from her wicked ways. Only one year ago. Scuzy sighed. The first century of her life felt so short now, and the last twenty years felt like they stretched on like an eternity. The invasion of the orcs, the destruction of quel’thalas, the fall of the Sunstrider dynasty. He would save his people, prince Kael’thas, but instead plunged his people into a new age of depravity and corruption... And the Sunburn family had followed without question. She was all that was left. Her parents, uncles and aunts, sisters and brothers, all fell when the heroes of the Horde and the Alliance combined destroyed the Magisters Terrace and brought an end to the reign of Kael’thas and the Sunfury. Scuzy felt tired as she stared into her own eyes. She felt old. She was young at one-hundred and thirty-three years, but still she felt old. So much strife in so little time. So much change.

Scuzy made a grimace and touched the scar that ran over both her lips. A scar she would not heal, her only scar. In her head she mockingly called it “the mark of the Mancleaver”. Another new chapter. He was a berserker of the Shatterskull Marauders, an orc, and one of the most illuminated men she had ever seen. His tenacity and unrelenting pursuit of the destruction of evil had shown her that the Light chooses it’s true champions in the most surprising places, often unbeknownst to the champion itself. In fact, she was pretty sure that if she would tell him what she really thought of him, a paragon of the Light, he would add another scar to her face. Scuzy shook her head and looked down, her long eyebrows and ears gently dancing around. It didn’t matter. He had led her on a new path, and that path she would follow. She was a part of the Shatterskull Marauders now, a recruit of their Hammer regiment. She would fight side by side with creatures her people had fought for centuries. Many times she had thought about returning to Shattrath, saying goodbye to this “horde” forever, to seek a life of tranquility and prayer. But her path wouldn’t be so easy. She had penance to do, wrongs to make right. The Light had brought her here.

“Wha’ ya doin’?”

The troll's voice snapped Scuzy out of her thoughts. She turned her head to look at the voice. Hikka was looking at her with a drowsy frown, half-lidded eyes squinting against the soft light of the candle. Scuzy smiled at her. The troll girl had been of great support to her. It didn’t matter to Hikka what laid in her past, and Scuzy doubted she would even understand half of it. She had a certain carelessness about her ways that had left Scuzy with an inexplicable fondness for her. As Scuzy drifted back into thought and worry, failing to awnser the Troll’s question, Hikka grunted drowsily. “Ya got ya ‘ead innah knotti ‘gain?” Scuzy gave a tired nod at the question. Hikka sighed and murmured “Com’ back tah bed ya silly toad.” and held the covers open for Scuzy. The troll was wearing nothing but a loin-cloth again. Inevitably, Scuzy wondered if she would ever get the troll to wear proper night attire. Hikka smiled drowsily at Scuzy, a smile of natural adoration. There was nothing fake about this girl, Scuzy thought she probably couldn’t lie even if she tried to. She shuffled back to the bed, blew out the candle and crawled up against Hikka. Hikka wrapped the blanket around Scuzy with her giantess’ arms, and drowsily nuzzled her head against Scuzy’s. “Ya go tah sleep now, mah warriah maiden, many fightin’ tomorro’!” Before Scuzy could say anything, Hikka had already sunk back to sleep. Scuzy felt tiny in her embrace, but warm and safe. Loved. She pulled Hikka’s hand off her butt and fell asleep.

Visions.

Scuzy lay awake in her bed. The sounds of the night filled the large and terribly open sleeping quarters of the Ratchet inn. Tauren snoring, Orcs fighting things in their dreams. The distant sounds of industry in a port town that never really slept. Hikka was still out, somewhere, on a nightly patrol. The bed felt lonely without her. Scuzy sighed to herself and turned around, trying to find a more comfortable position to sleep. A pointless endeavor. This was a comfortable bed, perhaps the most comfortable one in the entire building. She payed good money for this bed. It wasn't the bed that kept her awake. Worries. Worries about her home, of Quel'thalas. Fairbreeze village was stricken by the plague. As soon as she heard, she had traveled back home. She offered her assistance to the Sin Belore, to anyone, but she was ignored. We don't need a priest, we need doctors and alchemists. Go home, Sunburn. The words had stung. Go home. No matter how hard she tried to do right by the Light, she found enemies at every turn. Words that should warm the hearts of many, turned people against her. Was it supposed to be like this? Was this Light's way of testing her faith? Sunburn turned again, and slowly fell into a shallow sleep.

---

Scuzy sat upright in her bed. She was unclothed. As soon as she realized this, she let out a little yelp and pulled the covers up to her neck to protect herself. She quickly looked around if anyone could have seen, but the inn was... Empty. Had she overslept? Did everyone leave without waking her? Panic started to stir in her heart, her eyes darting around. No, no daylight. It wasn't morning, yet, there was light here. A sort of aerie... Haze. It was dark, yet she could see. She rubbed her eyes a couple of times and blinked them, squinting at the interior of the inn. It remained hazy.

"It's been a long time, child."

Scuzy startled at the familiar voice. Suddenly, she saw him. How had she not noticed him before? He stood right by her bed. A large Draenei, clothed in pristine white robes. He bathed in a soft glow, a peaceful smile on a mouth above two chins. The fat tendrils on his chin waved around lazily, as if gravity did not effect them. "T-Thelos?" Scuzy's mouth dropped. This was impossible, her tutor was dead!

"Your mind is troubled, full of turmoil. You have changed much since you came to us."

The Dreanei sat down on the edge of her bed with a gentle smile. Was he really sitting down? His impressive frame made no dent in the covers. It was like... He wasn't there. Suddenly he was eating a doughnut. Scuzy pulled her knees up, her heels against her butt, the blankets wrapped around her. She couldn't do much but stare at the jolly Anchrite, her tutor. Her dead tutor.

"You have accepted the Light into your heart, but you have yet to accept your heart itself."

The Dreanei smiled gently at Scuzy, and prodded one of his friendly sausage-fingers towards her chest. Scuzy blinked. Slowly she felt a warmth come over her, a warmth that calmed her nerves. Thelos had always been able to do that. If it was his gentle, fatherly smile, or perhaps his friendly and deep voice, she didn't know.

"I.. I'm just trying to do right by the Light, father. I live by your teachings, I'm doing everything right! I read and pray every day. I have brought judgeme--"

Scuzy's explanation got cut off by a warm chuckle, a deep rumbling sound that filled the air.

"Indeed. You live for the Light eternal, but you forget yourself. The Light is eternal and forgiving. You mustn't fear yourself, child. The Light accepts you for who you are; You must do the same."

The Dreanei's smile radiated a perfect serenity. The way he sat there, eating a doughnut. Not a hint of worry and doubt. An image of perfect illumination and acceptance. He awaited her response, patiently. Scuzy curled her fingers into the blanket, her passion struggling with the tranquility this man spread.

"But, father. They will not hear me, they will not hear the voice of the Light. So much darkness, so much -evil-. How can I rest whe--"

He chuckled again, warm and gentle. Scuzy's words halted in her throat, and mind. The sound of Thelos' laughter was like a gentle, deep music.

"My child... My dear, dear child. Remember patience. You do not have to speak for the Light; The light speaks for itself. All you need do is carry the Light in your heart, be kind and accepting of others, and in time, they will find their own way to the Light."

"But fathe--"

"Where you not an agent of the fel when you first came to us?"

"Yes bu--"

"Did you not come to us by your own hearts desire?"

"Yes fath--"

"Well then, that settles it! Do not worry yourself, child. The others will find their way to the Light before the final day. There is still time. To force the Light upon others is not the way of the Naaru. Be accepting to others, and they will accept you. Our way is the way of kindness and tolerance."

Scuzy wanted to say something, but she found no words. Thelos smiled gently down at her, and she laid down onto the bed, her head snugly onto the pillow. The urge to say something diminished, as the firm Dreanei gently pulled the covers over Sczuy and tucked her in. He touched her cheek softly, she felt herself overcome with a peaceful warmth. She closed her eyes. The thick wooliness of sleep washed over her.

"Fare well, child. The Naaru watch over you..."

---

Scuzy veered upright in her bed. She was panting and covered in cold sweat. She brought a hand to her forehead. The famliar sounds of the Ratchet night had returned. Industry, snoring, growling. She sighed in relief. Only a dream...

Hikka appeared in the entrance, dressed in her Shadow Hunters garment, smelling of the cold night air and faintly of animals. Scuzy smiled at her, Hikka blinked. Scuzy let out a slightly mad laughter, relief and a torrent of other emotions coursing through her. Hikka raised an eyebrow.

"No... I'm alright. I'm alright."

She didn't bother explaining her dream to Hikka. Had it really been a dream? It felt awfully real. Once Hikka had settled beside her in the bed, Scuzy crawled up against her and mubled into her chest. "Things are going to be different from now on." Hikka didn't get it, but gently petted her hair anyway.

Elves are crazy.

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Yum.

Nice expository chapter, though I much prefered the second, more dialogue-based section.

It was like... He wasn't there. Suddenly he was eating a doughnut.

Besides that one line having me sold on Thelos, I like how comforting a presense you manage to portray with him. Is it difficult to write for a different person's character, or is it a case of being familiar with them so well that it comes naturally?

Also forgive my ignorance on the Sin'dorei RP (and Horde RP in general), but what does "Darkling" mean in this context?

Whilst I shouldn't speak on behalf of erwtenpeller, Darkling is a moniker that his character Scuzy used to describe Warlocks and the Undead.

If you'll notice, when Darkling was used in my story, it was in reference to Scuzy.

It's something I've used on Scuzy personally, it has no ground in lore. It just sounds cool!

As for writing for another character, I have the advantage that Thelos is played by my brother, so by extension I know him quite well

@Raene: Aye I had noticed it there too, so wondered if it was a common phrase =)

@erwtenpeller: Oh I'm sure that helps as well ^^

@Thelos: Let us commence The Donut Thread!
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