Origins - Cal

Having a look through my old stories, this was the very first bit of RP writing I ever did. Shortly after discovering WoW, and RP, in mid 2007. It was only ever supposed to be a short thing, but it kinda grew. If you can get through it then <3 to you It's was the foundation of my character and I think I stayed pretty true to it ever since...

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Her eyes flicker up to the balcony where Tyrande, High Priestess of Elune, stands with her entourage. A frown clouds her features for a moment, and is quickly gone. No-one notices, no-one watches the young priestess as she quietly settles onto the grass to study her latest training notes.

Tucked amongst the scrolls is a scruffily written letter from her cousin. She chuckles softly as she reads it again, her training momentarily forgotten. “She’d write with her claws that one if she could get away with it” she murmurs, amused to herself. There’s news of work to be done far abroad in the Wetlands, of the great cities observed but not enjoyed by her wild kin. Suppressing her mirth at the descriptions given by her cousin she flicks the letter over and continues to read. Perhaps, she thinks, the time is finally ripe for her own journey to begin? Carefully folding the precious letter away her mind lingers on her cousin. That side of her family is so dear to her, raising her whilst her parents dedicated themselves to their own calling. At that thought the smile fades and her eyes are drawn reluctantly once again to the balcony.

Distracted now, her eyes close against the beauty of the temple. Her fingers reach and twist into the soft grass underneath as she descends into memory. The scrolls slide disregarded from her lap as she listens to the gentle rhythm of the water cascading nearby. She knows she should be working at improving her skills, but today and for now, her thoughts lie elsewhere…

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She remembers clearly the day the news came. It was a warm beautiful morning, so utterly incongruous with the information heralded in the neatly written letter. Her Father had read the note first and had quietly stumbled from the room. Staring after her silent father’s departure she anxiously dared to pick the letter up herself. A friend of her mothers had heard whispers of a tragedy at Suramar. An entire guard of watchers had been buried under the collapsed tombs there in pursuit of a fugitive, Illidan, her mother amongst them. Crushing the letter in despair she recalled the clear birdsong outside that seemed to mock her grief…

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Shivering slightly she comes to her senses. The air is getting cooler in the temple as the sun dips towards the horizon. Collecting up the scattered notes her hand trembles slightly, but is swiftly controlled. She walks to the entrance of the temple, bowing lightly to her trainer as she passes. Turning her face away no-one hears her whisper “Time to pack Cal, time to pack”. Without looking back she makes her way into the long shadows as night settles over Darnassus.

"I would like to make a journey… with your blessing of course".

Drawing the Chief Priestess of her order to one side after the meeting, Cal quietly confided her plans. After a moments hesitation she added: "I was thinking of Stormwind?”. Once the approval had been given, a nervous excitement bloomed within her at the prospect of the voyage. She knew just how painfully narrow her horizons were, hardly ever having any contact with the other allied races apart from a rare few tradesmen and travellers. Still, she turned down the polite offer of company on this voyage. She could, and should perhaps do this alone.

When questioned she had said that her main reason to go was to explore the philosophies of Light, the Cathedral and perhaps to learn something from the priests residing there. Whilst a true intent, this, at the very core of things wasn’t her sole purpose.

How could she explain her growing unease at the temple, the conflicting thoughts waging a silent battle behind her apparent serenity? How could a goddess pick someone so obviously flawed? No, dredging these thoughts up again and again was getting her nowhere, she just needed to get away.

Reaching under her bed she withdrew a small battered looking tin. Cradling it in her hands reverently for a moment, her eyes lingered, tracing the faint outline of the inscription on the side. As if coming to a decision she gently slid it to the bottom of her pack and stood to brush the dust from her robe. "Well, there’s no time like the present" she sighed to herself, casting a final eye around her simple lodgings. Locking the entrance she briskly moved out into the damp morning air to catch the first boat to Menethil Harbour.

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She would have giggled if the poor Druid hadn’t been so obviously in distress.

“Please can I make you something? I have plenty of herbs that might help soothe your stomach?”

The druid just growled at her. Muttering about the un-natural way the ship dipped and rolled over the waves and how to be within the water was the only true way to travel. Stepping lightly away from the violently retching bear she wandered to the opposite side of the ship.

An elderly huntress smiled at her approach and arched an eyebrow at the druid in mirth… “He’ll bring up a lung in a minute if he doesn’t stop soon”. Chuckling she introduced herself as Belsaria, at over seven centuries old she was a seasoned adventurer, but not so old as to forget how frightening voyages could be to the inexperienced. The wolf she kept as companion scratched its ear vigorously and watched the young priestess with interest. “Don’t worry dear, I’ve seen it before, he’ll be alright once he’s got all his legs on land and no spell of yours can bring him that… Come and sit, the pup here won’t bite unless he’s ordered to by me”. Gracefully accepting the offered company, Cal took the opportunity to question the huntress about her past travels. The older woman seemed to enjoy the attention and it was given gladly as her stories were ripe with exotic jungles, vanishing panthers and daring battles with blue-skinned vicious tribes.

As the sky darkened and the ships torches were carefully brought out, Cal bade Belsaria goodnight. They were due to make land early tomorrow morning, so a good nights rest should be grabbed whilst available. Making her way down the creaking staircase to the sleeping quarters she hummed that odd sea-shanty to herself again. She’d heard one of the crew singing it earlier. It had some colourful lyrics that had caused her to spit out her drink in choking amusement when she first heard them. The druid had unsteadily retired many hours earlier to a private room, to the evident relief of all on deck, and lowering her voice out of pity for his ills she could hear him snoring fitfully.

Curling into the well-worn dip of the rough hammock she grinned happily to herself. Breathing in deeply the sour tang of the air in the ship, it was as if nothing could be sweeter. She dreamed of distant temples and trolls, whilst the gentle beat of her pet moth’s wings stirred the sawdust on the wooden floor beneath her.

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“All Ashore for Menethil” bellowed the captain.

Waking with a start, Cal nearly fell from the hammock. Excitement rushing through her she hurriedly fastened on her cloak and grabbed up her pack. Belsaria made her farewell, adding a few words of advice regarding routes to the human capital. The huntress dug into a pocket and produced a small square of leather. It was beautifully inscribed with a map. “Here child, I scratched this up for you last night. Don’t be paying me, I figures you’ll be needing it and your thanks is enough”. Beaming in gratitude Cal bowed deeply; the older woman then pulled her into a rough embrace and turned to leave.

Looking around the pier she could see that the druid seemed to be hugging the hard wooden floor, either that or he had collapsed. Gently walking over to him she heard his gruff voice “keep walking missy, I’m fine”. Despite all appearances to the opposite she decided to believe him and stepped past quickly into her first human settlement…

Looking at the hem of her cloak, Cal sighed. One of the alligators on the road out of Menethil had snatched a mouthful as she had hurried past. One whole corner had been completely torn away so she would need to get some repairs done soon.

Reaching into her pocket for the small leather map, she traced her finger down towards the Dun Algaz pass. Through there she should be able to reach Dun Morogh and the mighty city of Ironforge itself. First though more provisions were needed so, tapping the map in thought, she decided to stop briefly in Thelsamar on the other side of the pass..

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A shadow up ahead caught Cal’s attention. So far the passageways of Dun Algaz had been empty, almost tomb-like. The tranquillity was disrupted however by the ominous glow of a flickering torch coming around the bend ahead.

Glancing around in rising panic, she knew she had already been seen. The walls were flat and smooth offering no hiding places and running would only now bring disgrace. With no option but to turn and face whatever happened next she looked at the advancing creature with dreadful curiosity. As broad as tall almost, the tauren’s armour shone. Light danced across his blade, pulsating in a hypnotic display of power. Knowing he would easily outmatch her in a fight, Cal stepped slowly to one side of the passage pressing her back against the wall.

He stepped heavily towards her, flexing his muscles as he moved. Pausing right in front of her, he leaned in to squint at the state of her armour. Scrutinising her face he realised that the slender elf was holding her breath. With a loud roar that made Cal jump, the tauren clutched his sides. Realising the fearsome roar was in fact a laugh, she dared to edge slightly past. The Tauren turned his head sharply and bared his teeth, bowing with mock courtesy the warrior then roared again and set off past Cal in the opposite direction.

Once the flicker of the torch had faded, Cal slumped against the wall of the tunnel. Realising she was drenched in sweat she ran a shaking hand over her face. Her trembling voice echoed in the empty hallway “By Elune… what a beast!” Picking herself up she set off again, it wasn’t until the cool air of Loch Modan hit her, that she thought to slow her pace.

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“so lass, where’yeh travelling to?” the grey-haired dwarf looked up from the finishing touches to Cal’s cloak.

“Stormwind, but I thought I’d call in at Goldshire first, it has such a lovely name” The seamstress threw a filthy look at her assistant as he appeared to be choking on something at the back of the shop.

“I’m sure that’ll be grand lass, just grand. Here yeh are, yeh’d never know ‘bout the tear unless yeh really look close-to”

The seamstress paused for a moment, casting her eye over Cal. “Hm, well… if yeh are goin’ that way, perhaps you’d do me the kindness of a favour and make a wee delivery for me?” It was just a small package of fine threads bound for Goldshire, so Cal agreed readily. They weighed virtually nothing so it would be no burden to add them to her pack.

Handing over her money, Cal had a disquieting feeling that she had missed some key piece of the conversation somewhere. As she walked up the narrow street she could hear the seamstress hollering at her assistant.

Thelsamar was a small village; she had not intended to stay long as she could perhaps reach Ironforge by nightfall if she kept moving. But the great loch was so close and inviting that a night under the stars would be ample compensation for arriving later than planned.

She had chosen a secluded spot on the shore and hid her pack, weapons and cloak under the nearby scrubby bushes. Paddling barefoot into the cool water Cal sighed with pleasure. Holding her robe away from the surface she wiggled her toes and scanned the shore for likely firewood. “Perfect” she whispered, grinning to herself as she spotted an old dead timber not far from her camp. Splashing onto her back she floated out further into the loch. The swim was invigorating and much needed after several relentless days on the road.

Humming to herself she dragged the dead timber over to her makeshift camp and kindled a blaze within it. It wasn’t long before her dripping clothes were strung up near the roaring fire. Cal spread her old cloak beneath her and curled up in an old woollen shirt and trousers to gaze into the fire. When was the last time I did this? she thought wringing out her long dark hair. She pondered over the last few decades of her life. All her time seemingly spent within temples and libraries, wearing beautiful robes and her mind filled with careful studies.

Rolling onto her back she lazily watched the sky, the crackling fire sending up brilliant sparks as if in competition with the stars. Yawning she pulled her cloak close around her body and settled her travelling pack beneath her head as a pillow. She dreamt of the tauren, he had stitched her cloak up incorrectly and was now pulling it apart. All the threads were unravelling, drowning her as they piled up around her. Crying out she awoke to the amber glow of the dying fire. Shivering in the early morning mist, she threw on another log and slowly started to pack her belongings for the next leg of her journey.

“Amazing” Cal grinned. She was sat at the very front of the deep-run tram as it set off for Stormwind. It was midday and there were few other commuters on-board. Those that were there must have travelled this way often as none shared the wide-eyed wonder clearly written across Cal’s face.

She ducked involuntarily as the tram line opened out to reveal a glass tunnel under the sea. Sheepishly looking around at the other commuters she was relieved to see they were all either dozing or had their noses buried in paperwork. Craning her neck for a last glimpse of the sunken ships she whipped her head around to face the front of the tram again, hair streaming behind her like some wild spirit.

Ironforge did indeed have mighty architecture; all she had heard was true. But the industrial, almost claustrophobic, style of the city had done nothing but heighten Cal’s longing for Darnassus and the cool tranquil forests of home. Musing to herself she remembered the awesome spectacle of the rivers of falling lava. She would have been content to remain at Ironforge and watch them all day though given the chance.

The tram shuddered to a halt and the grumbling commuters poured out into the tunnel for Stormwind. “At last” Cal whispered. Hoisting her pack onto her back she set off to join the throng.

Once through the tunnel Cal pondered her next move. The sun was still high in the sky and she had heard that Goldshire was naught but a short stroll from the city gates. Looking briefly at her map she nodded to herself in confirmation, “what possible harm can a quick visit do eh?”

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Cal placed her battered mace on the Goldshire blacksmiths counter; several dents earned on the road from Menethil needed attention.

“Pa!” A cry from outside behind the store rang out.

“Damn the light, it’s that bloody gnome! He’s doing it again! I don’t get it, how can he reach anything to get up there?”

Leaning discreetly to one side, Cal could see the back door had been left slightly ajar. Through it she could make out what had to be the blacksmith’s son, he was making rude gestures up at the roof.

The blacksmith chuckled, turning back to his customer. “I’m sorry miss, forgive his language” He was a heavily set man, fearsome to look at with soot and sweat mingling to darken his brow. He cast a critical eye over the damaged weapon, hefting it easily as if it were made of spun glass.

“Give me half an hour with this and it’ll be good as new”. Nodding her thanks Cal left the shop, unable to fight the urge to cast a sly glance at the roof. Indeed there was a small figure, apparently dancing to goad the blacksmiths son into a greater fury. Giggling she crossed the busy street to seek some peace in the Inn.

Immediately realising peace might be too tall an order, Cal threw down some Silver for a jug of Melon juice and settled at a small table to the rear to catch up on her letters.

‘Dear Cousin,
I have so much news I hardly know where to begin…’

She glanced up at the three male Draenei dancing on the table on the opposite side of the Inn… Oblivious to the mugs they were knocking over the Draenei were attracting a small crowd of cheering, and jeering, onlookers. They were some kind of travelling troop of entertainers perhaps? Smiling in amusement at the little claps they did as part of their routine, Cal turned back to her letter.

‘Since I last wrote I have finally left Darnassus for a pilgrimage of sorts to the human capital.’

Cal wrote quickly, feeling slightly disconcerted by the heavy-set dwarf slouching in the corner near her. He was crooning softly to what appeared to be an axe cradled in his arms and had several empty tankards stacked in front of him.

…’You were right last year when you said that I should leave the embrace of the city, to explore my own path’

A young human warrior suddenly brought his sword smashing down on the bar. Looking closer it appeared that there was that still blood on the edge. The barman, his feet dangling now as the warrior had lifted him by the shirt, stammered out in a small voice “What’ll it be sir?” … With an evil grin the warrior hefted his shield on his back and said “I know… I’ll have a short!”

Cal gazed around as the rowdy Inn fell to silence. Two gnomes and the dwarf from the corner exchanged glances and started to move towards the bar, their faces set with grim pleasure. She had to admire the tall Draenei who stepped forward and tried to calm the atmosphere.

“Heh” the dwarf drawled “yeh great son o’ a murloc, who was askin’ fer ye help eh?”

She had already swung her belongings into the pack and left her seat by the time the first punch was falling. Shaking her head in dismay, Cal stopped briefly to deliver the package of threads from Thelsamar and to collect her weapon, then followed the road back to Stormwind.

After securing a basic room above one of the Inns, she had spent the afternoon tasting as many of the delights the human Capital had to offer as possible. There was the new Auction House, which much to her disappointment sold the same old things. The curious cuisine, the densely packed Old Town, and the beautiful Cathedral Square.

She had struck up a brief conversation with a devout Paladin in the Cathedral Square. He had scrawled the name of a priest, who sometimes gave tours of the grand building, onto a scrap of paper for her. Too excited to think any more of it, she had tucked the note into a side pocket and continued her exploration of the City.

As the sun was setting low over Stormwind, Cal wandered through the dwarven district. Her pace slow and her gaze taking in the hustle of people finishing work for the day. Rowdy singing was cascading from a nearby open window and Cal drew close to peer into the well-lit smoky tavern.

A dozen or so dwarves were smashing tankards down onto the rough wooden table. The lyrics of the song were foreign and guttural to her, but the enthusiasm with which they were belted out was infectious and she couldn’t help but grin.

Stepping quietly into the Inn she made a direct line for the bar, avoiding the loud group and seating herself near the fireplace.

To her surprise the loudest dwarf soon walked over to her, smacked his drink down on her table and said “I’ll be having none o’ this! Nae tonight!”

Startled into speechlessness, Cal looked up, then down at the dwarf and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Ah’m Stalbard, and Ah’ve had some grand news t’dae, you’ll be joining us over here now lassie at our celebration, nae sitting here alone like yeh are”

The gruffness of his voices was belied by the twinkle in his eyes. Cal paused for a moment then thought of her planned day in the Cathedral for tomorrow, a clear head was a must if good impressions were to be made.

“thank you, you are kind, but I really cannot… not tonight”

Stalbard shrugged as he turned away… He called out to his party, “Ach well lads, seems ‘yon lady here can’t let her hair down so we’d best leave her be”.

He flashed a quick smile at her as he resumed his seat and threw a look of such gleeful mischievousness her way that she had to return his grin.

He shouted out one last time “Perhaps lass, I can tempt yeh te try just a wee dram?” and leaned forwards conspiratorially “p’rhaps one fer tha road eh?”

Cal hesitated at her lonely table; his jibe about her not being able to enjoy herself rang with some truth. Peering into the dregs of her melon juice she then broke into a slow grin: “Oh… go on then”

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Stumbling merrily on her way back to the Inn she chuckled, recalling one of Stalbard’s jokes again. Grinning at her pet moth she slurred: “and then the Moonkin and the Warlock go back to the barman and…” But a curious noise caught her attention and cut her short; a peculiar sigh and thump. Edging to the mouth of the alleyway she peered in and made out the shapes of two men assaulting a third. Without hesitating she dropped everything, blearily cast a shield around the prone figure and stepped towards the two attackers. Fumbling in her memory she re-called an old lesson and pierced the night with an appalling psychic scream. The delivery wasn’t perfect but it was enough to send the assailants fleeing past her in temporary dread. As the soft glow of the shield faded she ran and leant over the fallen man to gauge the severity of his wounds. Two hurried incantations later and his breathing had settled and the wicked slice to his side had knitted.

Knowing he was out of danger she flicked her head around to check for any sign of the attackers return, but they had gone… they both had, and her bag with them.

His eyes fluttered open but she was no longer looking, she seemed to be frozen in place, one hand trembling over her mouth. A thought icy and dreadful trickled into her mind, the tin… they’ve got that too. Merciless sobriety quickly swept through her. She broke into a run to the end of the alleyway where she had left her belongings. When she looked around the corner to the main street a clatter of birds taking flight was the only sign of life.

The man had staggered upright placing a hand over the fresh tear in his shirt, the other resting heavily on the dank wall of the alley.

“Hey, you… miss… did you do this?” Patting himself down, the truth of his lucky escape dawned on him; he gazed up again at his apparent rescuer. Walking over he called out again and then reached for her shoulder impatiently to get her attention. Cal turned and slapped him, catching him completely by surprise... “You damn fool” she hissed. Stalking away she left him rubbing his cheek in bemusement.

Hugging her shoulders against the cold and the feeling of failure she ran blindly the rest of the way to the Inn. Clutching at her belt she was relieved to feel the weight of her purse there. “Thank Elune” she muttered darkly. Without that she really would have been in trouble.

Breathless and shaking from her run she staggered to the window of her room, leaning out slightly to peer into the sky. Rain clouds had gathered throughout the evening and it seemed even the precious moon was stolen from her now… Sinking to the floor, gripping her knees tight to her chest, she didn’t feel the first drops of rain blow in through the window and fall upon her shoulders.

Outside a collar was flicked up and drawn tight against the now heavy rain. Imperceptible to the few passers-by at this hour, a figure settled in the dark archway to watch the light from the one open window above…

Daylight stung. Wincing and shivering Cal pulled herself upright from where she had slept on the floor. No matter what spell she tried, nothing would lessen the sickening throb of her hangover. It was hard to judge the time as heavy clouds hid the sun, soaking anyone brave enough to step outside. Rubbing her face roughly bits of memory from the previous night painfully clicked back into place. She swore then furiously kicked the bedpost. Clutching her foot she sank onto the bed miserably looking at the few items strewn in her room. It didn’t sum up to much; an old mace, her dirty travelling cloak, her purse and the scrap of paper from the Paladin.

Groaning, she snatched up the scribbled note and tried to straighten her robe and hair. “Damn-it, it’ll have to do” she muttered.

She didn’t talk to anyone downstairs in the Inn. Standing by the fire to warm her damp robes she scowled and figured that no news would have spread about the fight in the alleyway. In a city like this it probably happens every night. But to lose everything, her breath caught in her throat for a moment, it was hard to think on it.

Outside she held her hand up in a futile shield against the downpour, leaping and running amongst the puddles in the road. As she entered the cathedral square she had blink against the rain as she tipped her head back, taking in the grandeur of the old building. Even the children of the nearby orphanage were staying indoors. A few glum tiny faces appeared at the window, looking at the giant puddles with longing before disappearing again.

Easing the heavy door ajar she entered the Cathedral quietly. A small ceremony was in progress and she lingered near the entrance out of respect.

A balding grey-haired clergyman noticed the newcomer. He nodded in greeting and made his way slowly over to her. Cal observed the pristine nature of his robes and cast an embarrassed glance at her own attire. Her cheeks reddened as her eyes rested on the mud-stained hem of her robe. As if sensing her discomfort he smiled warmly in greeting. "Please child, we welcome any traveller here to the sanctity of the Cathedral". Relaxing slightly and smiling in gratitude for his kindness she bowed deeply in response.

She unfurled the scrap of paper held damply in her fist and handed it over to the priest. “If I could trouble you please, do you know where I could find this person?”

His eyes twinkled with delight “light be blessed, I’m Brother Sarno. Now then, what would you be wanting with an old priest like me?”

Cal hesitated for a moment “I was told you often take the time to give tours of the Cathedral? I wonder if I…”

Brother Sarno had already broken into a grin, “Of course, please follow me”.

The Cathedral was large, not to the scale of the Temple of the Moon Cal noted, but still impressive in its beauty. Brother Sarno pointed out several features of interest and whilst they wandered the many rooms he enthusiastically regaled Cal with stories of the mighty faithful.

Seated in a quiet side annexe they spent the afternoon discussing the Light in hushed tones. Intrigued as to the nature of the foreign philosophy, questions tumbled from Cal one after the other…

Brother Sarno turned to her at one point, as they paused their debate to eat some warming soup, and said “Of course we also run a house of healing, an outreach to those poor or destitute in this great city. To those who have lost everything…’

Cal felt a sudden feeling of heaviness at his words, a squeezing of the chest that forced the very breath from her. There was a sudden break in the clouds and light from the setting sun streamed through the stained glass window above them, casting pools of glorious colour at their feet. Her sight blurred and she squeezed her eyes shut against the brilliant display. Sensing her disquiet and looking again at the stained nature of her clothes, the priest quietly left Cal alone for a moment, and returned with a rough cloak which he draped around her shoulders. He chuckled, to cover the embarrassment of the moment and merely said “I thought you looked cold, so this might help”.

Nodding and roughly wiping her eyes against her sleeve Cal whispered her thanks, pulling the cloak close around herself. Returning to the discussion as if nothing had happened she asked “are there many Kaldorei here in the city that follow the Light?”… He nodded in thought “Some, but none devoutly to my knowledge”…

By the time they had finished their soup a young altar boy was making his rounds, carefully lighting the votive candles scattered in the Cathedral. The priest nodded encouragingly at Cal and shook her hand as they made their farewells.

“We have a good selection of reading material here, should you wish to learn more of the Light’s teachings”. He smiled hopefully “…and do feel free to call in anytime, we hold open masses every Thursday evening if you would like to attend?”

Cal lingered by the heavy Cathedral door and turned back to the priest “I do” she nodded, “and I will, thank you… for everything”.

The night-time city streets were busy and the young priestess wandered without direction amongst the throng. As she stepped lightly amongst the puddles of the cobbled street, two men barged past her, almost knocking her off her feet. Turning to shout in protest Cal realised in a sickening flash who they were, the thieves from the alleyway. Narrowing her eyes she set off to follow, her wand already gripped tightly in her hand.

Following them around a corner, rough hands suddenly pulled her back. “It’s been a long time since anyone thought to save my life” a deep voice whispered in her ear as she struggled “I’d hate to watch that person commit suicide”.

She bit at the hand covering her mouth and turned wildly to face whoever had snatched at her.

“Easy miss, easy!” The man had dirty blonde hair, held loosely in two plaits that fell either side of his face and his grey eyes held no malice. His hands were held up, palms facing her, as if to placate her anger. He wore a fine black shirt, carefully re-stitched she noticed up one side. “You!” she breathed… “but I wasn’t going to…”

“Listen, if you went charging after them on your own it’d be suicide, no two-ways about it. What were you going to do? Bore them to death with sermons?”

“Oh right” Cal snapped back, “I suppose you could just bleed on them ‘til they begged for mercy”

There was a moment of silence as they furiously stared at each other.

“What do you want them for anyway?” he angrily whispered, crossing his arms and ignoring her insult.

She flashed an impatient look at him, then turned her head back to the direction the two men had gone. “They took something of mine, everything in fact, when I was busy saving some fool’s life” Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to diminish in front of his eyes. “There was a small silver tin” she whispered quietly “you wouldn’t understand… but I must get it back”.

He grimaced behind her unseen, as if making his mind up. “Just stay to the shadows then” he eventually muttered “don’t move, don’t sour this and we’ll get that damned thing back for you okay?” with that he faded into the background, ghost-like in his stealth. The two thieves had paused further up the street, beneath a guttering torch, seemingly in argument with each other and oblivious to their spectators.

Cal edged around the corner, concentrating on melding into the shadows herself. She could just make out the conversation up ahead.

“I believe we have some unfinished business gentlemen”, the black-clad stranger whispered with a wicked grin as he re-appeared in the midst of the argument.

Immediately weapons were drawn but the stranger already held a dagger at the throat of one of the thieves. “Now empty your pockets” he hissed. One of them produced the tin amongst some other trinkets. Fierce argument flickered back and forth amongst the trio until a sudden movement from the other thief caused a fight to erupt.

The tin burst open in the struggle and several tightly packed pieces of paper fluttered to the floor. Scattering in the alleyway some fell underfoot and some drifted into nearby puddles. With a howl of pure rage Cal leapt from her hiding spot and cursed the thieves wildly through the tears threatening to blind her. Then gripping her wand with white knuckles she cast bolts in all directions.

The thieves withdrew under the combined onslaught. As they fled, one thief hit Cal hard on the temple with his club. She dropped to the floor in an instant motionless.


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He had gathered up the scraps of paper and the tin after the fight and, after laying the sleeping body of Cal on his bed, he turned to them now to pull apart the sodden mass carefully by the fire. The tin was battered and old, not precious enough to explain the motive for her passionate defence. It had a simple inscription on one side that read something in Elvish that he was damned if he could read.

The papers were all covered in writing, letter like in style. Laying each one out carefully on the flagstones by the fire he wondered as to their content.

Leaning over he brushed a long dark strand of hair gently away from the sleeping woman’s face. She stirred at his touch murmuring in Darnassian and he pulled his hand away, not wanting to shatter the peaceful moment.

“and who’s she then?” the acid tone of a strangers voice woke Cal from her dreamless sleep.

“None of your concern” he stood suddenly, his eyes flickering up to the druid leaning against the doorway. She had fine features that were twisted into a bitter expression of amusement and her bobbed pale blue hair hung perfectly smooth.

Looking around fuzzily at her strange surroundings Cal wondered how she managed to get there, and whose bed she was on. She reached up carefully to her temple and a wave of nausea pulsed through her, forcing her to lie back down.

“Here’s your cut” he growled. The stranger deftly caught the money purse thrown her way. “Aren’t you going to count it?”.

“No need” she purred with no trace of warmth in her voice, “I know where you live”. She threw a disdainful glance at Cal and turned gracefully from the room. A moment later a great black cat bound away up the quiet street, blending perfectly with the shadows of the alleyways.

“Who… was… that?” muttered Cal weakly.

“… just an associate” he bitterly spat, crossing the room to bar the door from further interruptions.

Her eyes widened as her gaze fell on the paper drying neatly by the fire. Looking up with an unreadable expression she arched an eyebrow at him. “what happened?” she whispered.

He sighed, standing near the fire with his back to her. “You did, you barged in losing the plot firing at everything and everyone”… “If they hadn’t of hit you I probably would have”. His voice was gruff and harsh and she felt her cheeks redden. Slowly sitting upright she stared at the paper by the fire whilst he continued to speak. “I don’t know what all this is” he gestured at the letters “but you’re a damn fool to think your life worth less than them”…

Groaning softly she slid from the bed to kneel by the fire… her hands shaking she turned the pieces of paper over in the firelight. He looked down to gruffly admonish Cal but his terse words died in his throat. She was sobbing silently, clutching a damp piece of paper to her chest. The ink had run and hardly any remaining words were legible.

Rolling his eyes he hesitated, then leant down to pat Cal roughly on the shoulder. She was rocking now tears flowing freely down her cheeks, her fierce grip almost tearing the held letter apart. He awkwardly sank down next to her and gently pulled her close so that her head rested on his shoulder. They remained in that position for some time until the tears abated and her breathing calmed to the gentle pattern of sleep.


=======


When she awoke it was almost dawn… torches were flickering all over the city and a dull light seeped in through the scraggy curtain of the room. Looking around Cal realised she was still in the man’s house. He had fallen asleep on a chair near the fire whilst someone had thrown an old coat over her to keep out the cold.

Silently shifting the coat from the bed she padded quietly over to the window. Peeking out she could just make out the spires of the Cathedral in the distance, so she knew she was still within Stormwind.

The letters were stacked neatly in a pile on the large wooden table. Grimacing she sat down to sift through what remained.

‘Dearest Cal,
I am so proud… today they have confirmed my place amongst the watchers. Be strong for your Father I know that he will find my absence h…’

The rest was obscured by a water stain. Biting her lip, she turned to the next:

‘Dearest Cal,
Today we move out to the Barrow Dens. So many sisters were lost when the Sentinels attacked that I do not know if we will move our remaining prisoners to a safer location… I hope that it will be closer to home if these rumours are true…’

Flicking through the letters, she could only make out brief phrases here and there:

‘should anything ever happen, look after your Father, no doubt he’s dreaming again, but remember he…’.
‘I’m so proud of you following my path as a priestess, goddess watch over you my…’
‘Give my love to your Aunt Siael and don’t neglect your studies whilst staying with your cousins!’
‘Our plans have changed, the Warden orders us to follow across the sea in pursuit of the betrayer..
‘I won’t be able to write for a while, but all isn’t lost dear, stay strong and I’ll be home soon’.

Closing her eyes, Cal realised she was tired. Not physically, but mentally. She stared at the signature on the top-most letter as thoughts swirled in her mind.

“What am I doing here” she whispered.

Nothing had been solved by this journey she thought, more things had been lost than gained. Her eyes flickered over to the sleeping man by the dying fire. “Not true” she muttered. New paths were open to her now, she could return to this city in a fraction of the time this trip had taken, what with the flight masters accepting her registrations along the way.

“Should I return to Darnassus…” Cal murmured “to continue in my studies and serve the goddess?” Carefully tucking the letters away into the tin, her fingers traced the inscription ‘Daughter’. “It’s what she would have wanted... but what of me?” Cal frowned lost in thought.

Staring at the inscription on the side of the tin Cal felt her resolve toughen. She would go back, for now at least until she was stronger.

The dawn chorus of the City had started and clear birdsong rang out to shake her from her reverie. Standing suddenly she pulled her old cloak over her shoulders and tucked the tin into her belt securely. Leaning down she gently kissed the sleeping man on the cheek. His rough stubble scratched at her skin. Whispering a soft “thank you” into his ear she turned and stepped from the room.

She’d got half way down the street before a pounding of feet made her turn around.

“Are you leaving? I don’t even know your name!”

“It’s Calisar”, flicking her eyes up to the Cathedral spires on the horizon she added “I might be back this way sometime”

“Well then” disappointment flashed across his features “look me up if you do, eh?”... Regaining his gruff tone he added ‘I’m Thonovir, I could always use a healer in my line of work’. With a sly wink he spun on his heel and turned away.

Cal watched his retreating back for a moment and paused, the temptation of staying danced across her mind for an intoxicating instant. “No… not until I’m stronger” she whispered, setting off to catch the first available flight back to Darnassus.