[Lomenár] One Cannot Escape the Past

Following the events of the cultist campaign in Ashenvale in 2011.

The snow crunched underneath her boots as she moved swiftly up the path towards Starfall Village. The sun was setting behind the tall evergreens, and its last rays made the snow glow a warm golden red, like the fire at the inn’s hearth. Lomenár looked down beside her and smiled fondly at the huge feline that trotted along at her side. A few steps ahead of them a small, pink and lavender coloured, ball of fur was chasing imaginary enemies. Lomenár sighed happily. It was good to have all of her “family” gathered around her once more. If only things could stay this way forever…

A few moments later the three of them entered the biggest longhouse in Starfall, the one that served as community hall, inn and marketplace. Lomenár surveyed the large room and took an involountary step backwards when she noticed a tall kaldorei woman walking briskly towards her.
“Sentinel Shadowmist?” the woman looked her over and nodded approvingly to herself.
“I don’t go by that name or title anymore… maybe it is my mother you’re looking for?” Lomenár eyed the unfamiliar woman warily and took yet another step backwards towards the closest escape route – the door from which she’d entered.

“No. I’m not looking for your mother. I’m looking for you. Here. I have a letter for you.”
The woman rummaged through her pack and extended a small and heavily sealed envelope towards Lomenár.
Lomenár accepted the envelope, turned it over a few times and almost snarled aloud when she saw the seal. It was the traditional kaldorei Sentinel seal, and Lomenár would stake her life on the fact that the letter was sent from Feathermoon. With a heavy sigh and another weary glance at the unknown woman, Lomenár ripped the envelope open and began to read.

“Sentinel Shadowmist,
Your presence is required. Travel with all haste to Feathermoon in Feralas and report to Captain Mistwalker upon your arrival.

Elune A’dore,
Commander Bloodthorn”

Lomenár read the letter through a few times, and then she crunched up the paper into a ball and tossed it halfway across the room with a vicious snarl.
“Something amiss, Sentinel?” The woman’s voice held a tone of barely suppressed amusement, which only infuriated Lomenár further.
“How.Dare.She? How dare she?!”
“I take it the letter brought some unsettling news?” To Lomenár’s eyes the woman’s smile seemed almost maliciously gleeful, and she hissed in response to it.
“I left them… I left them hundreds of years ago! They have no right to command me around anymore!”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong… sister.” The woman gave Lomenár a condescending look.
“Wrong? How? I left them! I’m not a part of their… organistation… anymore!” Lomenár began pacing back and forth in frustration.
“But you are, Sister. I was informed that you had been granted a leave of absence for an unspecified amount of time. But your request to leave the service of the Sentinels entirely was denied… but maybe you’ve forgotten that small detail?”
“YOU LIE!” Lomenár whirled around to face the woman, her teeth bared and growling deep in her throat.
“I do no such thing. I was informed of this by commander Bloodthorn herself. And that woman would never lie… I trust you remember at least that much?”
“Who are you?”
“Me? Who I am is of no importance. But if you really must know… I am a sentinel, like yourself, and I was tasked to deliver this message and see to it that you left for Feralas immediately.”
“…and what if I don’t?”
“I’ve been given permission to see to it that you arrive in Feralas by any means possible. If I have to tie you up and bring you on my hippogryph, so help me Elune, I will. But I figure you do not want to return to our fold in such a shameful way?”

Lomenár studied the woman like she would any other adversary and quickly decided that even with Isil’s help they would have a hard time taking her down. Lomenár’s strength in fighting lay in striking unexpectedly from the shadows or from a great distance. She could, with Isil’s help, manage close combat… at least long enough for her to gain some distance… but these quarters were too cramped for fighting. There was no room to move, nowhere to run to. She was trapped, and by the way the woman held herself and smiled Lomenár knew she knew.

“If you dare lay a hand on me, you won’t live to see the first stars rise in the sky. I promise you that. Touch me and you die.” Lomenár’s voice was deadly calm, but her eyes blazed with fury.
“So, you’ll go then?” The woman passed a glance over Lomenár and took a step backwards. Whatever she’d seen in Lomenár’s eyes at that moment had apparently made her uncomfortable, maybe even frightened, and this cheered Lomenár to no end.
“Yes, I’ll go. Tell the Commander to expect me by the end of the week.”
“By the end of the..? Do you intend to race your mount, and possibly kill it by doing so, along the way?”
Lomenár smiled coldly.
“I intend nothing of the sort. I have my ways of traveling swiftly. Don’t worry about the welfare of my companions… I figure I have much better knowledge of what they’re capable of than you do. I will be in Feathermoon at the end of the week.”

Early the next morning she arrived at the base of Teldrassil. She smiled softly as she watched her hippogryph take flight and speed up towards the great canopy of the tree, looking for a shady place to rest. Lomenár sighed and absentmindedly patted Isil on the head.
“Well Isil, we’re back… but we have a long way to travel yet. You sure you’re up for it?”
The feline bared her teeth in, what Lomenár interpreted as, a smile and purred. The response made Lomenár let out a hearty chuckle and she kneeled down and hugged her friend tight.
“It’ll be alright Isil… somehow it’ll be alright…”

As they travelled, Isil and Lomenár settled into a rhythm. They ran close, side by side, all through the nights and the early mornings, letting the stars and the moon guide their way. When the sun rode high in the sky they headed for shelter and curled up together for much needed rest. This remained the pattern for many days to come.

From Teldrassil they had headed to Darkshore, and from Darkshore they had taken the swiftest route to Ashenvale. Once they reached Ashenvale they left the roads and went deep within the forest, always on their guard. At the border of Stonetalon Mountains they had had to use all their skills in stealth to pass the horde outposts unseen. It had felt as if a hand of ice had grabbed her heart and squeezed as she saw her Brothers and Sisters fight for their lives, and she could do nothing to help them. The Commander had issued an order, and no excuse for delaying would be acceptable… so Lomenár pressed on, leaving Stonetalon Mountains and the battle raging there behind.

They arrived in Desolace five days after leaving Winterspring. Lomenár felt her hackles rise as soon as she stepped across the border. This was not a place in which she wanted to linger. The air was dusty and stale, like it would be in a tomb, and the smell of death and decay was heavy on the wind. She shuddered and felt Isil press close to her leg. She reached down with one hand and scratched the feline behind her ears in a comforting gesture.
“I know, dear one, I know… this place sends chills down my spine, let us not linger here longer than we need to. I feel something foul is haunting these lands…”
The great cat nodded her head in agreement and bounded a few paces ahead of Lomenár before halting, tilting her head to the side in a questioning manner.
“Go ahead, my moon. I’ll catch up to you… eventually. I just need to pinpoint this… uneasy feeling… first.”
Isil bared her teeth in a feral grin and set off. Lomenár followed swiftly after, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, alert for any signs of danger.

They encountered no trouble for the first few hours. In fact, they didn’t see any signs of life at all during this time. But when the attack finally came, it came swiftly and without warning.

A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the ground in front of Lomenár, and if she hadn’t spent the last few millennia honing her reflexes she would have been burned to a crisp. As it was, she managed to fling herself aside with nothing more than a smear of dirt on her pants to show for it. With a menacing growl Isil jumped in front of her friend, her emerald eyes staring straight into the surrounding darkness. Lomenár unsheathed her scimitars and crouched down into a fighting position, her body tense and her senses alert for any movement.

With a blinding flash and a loud sizzling another lightning bolt shot out of the darkness. Isil and Lomenár flung themselves aside and then as one they charged into the shadows from whence it had come.

They found themselves face to face with a creature they’d never encountered before. It had the powerful and well muscled body of a horse, but where the horse’s neck and head should have been it had the upper body and head of a humanoid creature. The creature was clearly female, even though her face was mostly hidden underneath a thin veil.

Lomenár and the centaur studied each other for a heartbeat, both clearly caught off guard. Lomenár thought she recognized something familiar about the creature, but couldn’t put her finger on exactly what at that moment. She looked into the centaur’s eyes and was slightly stunned by the bloodlust that burned within its gaze. It was something akin to hatred, but not quite the same… it was more frenzied, more wild and primal than pure hatred… and Lomenár felt the fear slowly creeping up her spine. She knew this was a foe unlike any she had ever faced before… and it used forces Lomenár couldn’t even begin to comprehend. From the little she knew of magic she could tell that the centaur used raw elemental power, rather than pure arcane force… but it did little to diminish her fear. Ever since she was a child she had feared the arcane. She had heard the adults speak of the sundering and what the highborne had done to bring it about, and had come to the conclusion that the arcane was indeed something to be very afraid of… and at best, avoided all together.

Lomenár stumbled backwards a step and in that moment the centaur struck again. But even though Lomenár was slightly out of her element and completely dumbstruck by fear, Isil was not. Isil charged the centaur head on and with a mighty leap she landed on the centaur’s back. She used her wicked claws to cling onto the creature as it bucked and reared, trying to shake the feline off. Isil’s charge released Lomenár from her frozen state and with a hiss she tossed her scimitars aside and reached for her bow. She knocked an arrow, pulled back and let it fly. The arrow flew straight and true, and would have hit the centaur right in the chest if it hadn’t chosen that exact moment to rear. The centaur screamed in pain as the arrow bit deep into her stomach and when she came down on all fours again her eyes blazed with crazed fury. The centaur reared again and this time she managed to shake Isil, who landed in a heap a few feet away.

Once the centaur was free of the feline she uttered a shrill war cry and rushed towards Lomenár. Lomenár rolled gracefully out of the way and quickly got to her feet. She knocked yet another arrow in the bow and released. The centaur turned on its heel in a cloud of dust, ready to charge again, but this time Lomenár’s arrow had hit its mark and with a heavy thud and a pained groan the creature fell to the ground.

Carefully and silently Lomenár stalked towards the fallen creature. Once she had made sure that the centaur was indeed dead she rushed to Isil’s side. The cat didn’t have any visible wounds, but looked a little shaken and was slightly wobbly once she got to her feet. Lomenár herself didn’t feel very steady on her feet either and began searching the nearby hills with her gaze for any signs of some kind of shelter.

A tremor through the ground made her tense and soon she felt the ground shaking beneath her feet. Soon after, the thunder of hooves against hard packed earth rolled across the plain and Lomenár realized that they only had one option left to them; run!

They ran and ran and ran. The thunder of galloping hooves continued to hunt them as they made their way across the desolate plains. Lomenár didn’t dare glance behind her in fear that it would slow her down. Instead, she and Isil just kept going. The knowledge that the strange creatures that hunted them would grant them no mercy if they were caught spurred them on and gave them speed none of them had realized they possessed. So, they ran…

Lomenár was the one to falter first. That such a small thing as a pebble would make her fall was not something she’d counted on. She’d also almost forgotten that she’d been gravely injured not that long ago… and her newly mended legs could not carry her any longer. The sound of their pursuers continued to grow in intensity and Lomenár scanned the area with her gaze for a place to hide. And then she spotted it: something that looked like a cavity in a nearby rock! With Isil’s help she crept over, and it was indeed a cavity… or something close to it at least, it was more of hole. She crept inside and dragged Isil down into the hole with her. Panting heavily and sometimes struggling for breath they waited.

Their pursuers thundered past and then abruptly stopped. Lomenár struggled hard not to make a sound, something which proved to be increasingly difficult considering their previous swift flight. She buried her face in Isil’s fur and for the first time in many centuries she prayed to Elune.
“Please, Goddess… I beg you, please don’t let them find us! Please…”
The horde outside their hiding place snorted and stomped their hooves, making the dust swirl up in clouds around them – obscuring them from Lomenár’s view. But she could still hear them…

She listened intently, and from the sounds they made she gathered that they were angry and that they were arguing about something. They also moved back and forth, probably looking for her and Isil. Every nerve in Lomenár’s body was tingling with fear and her muscles prepared themselves to fight. She could feel Isil tense beside her, preparing herself for the same thing no doubt. A lot of snorts, harsh guttural sounds, stomps and whinnies later the horde suddenly departed and Lomenár breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you… I… Thank you!” she breathed and a single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.

To be safe, Lomenár and Isil stayed inside the hole for the rest of the day. When the moon began its travel across the sky that night they dared venture outside and continue on their journey.

They managed to get through the rest of Descolace without any more incidents or run-ins with the centaurs. As soon as they crossed the border to Feralas Lomenár felt the fear that had been holding her heart captive during their stay in Descolace seep into the ground and vanish. She inhaled deeply and felt more at ease than she had since leaving Winterspring. Feralas might not be the place that she called home, but it was still Kaldorei lands and for that reason alone; familiar.

At dawn they made camp in the wilds, close to the road, and soon they fell into an exhausted sleep.

Lomenár woke with a start and sat up slowly. Something had disturbed her enough to rouse her from her deep sleep. She peered around and scanned the lengthening shadows with wary eyes. Beside her Isil shook herself awake and yawned hugely. Lomenár placed a hand on the feline’s neck, a wordless sign that meant “be wary”.

Never faltering in her vigilance Lomenár slowly got to her feet and knocked an arrow to her bow. There was something out there, and it was approaching their camp. She swiftly melded into the shadows and waited.

A single Kaldorei soon came into view. She wore her purple hair just above shoulder length and she carried herself with an easy, youthful grace. She knelt down at the spot where Lomenár had been sleeping just moments before and frowned. The woman turned her head and said something, too softly for Lomenár to hear, to someone behind her. And soon afterwards a cat came into view. Lomenár tilted her head to the side and studied the pair from the safety of the shadows. There was something off about the feline… something that wasn’t quite right… something that she -should- know. And then it hit her; it wasn’t a real feline at all – it was druid in his cat form! Lomenár studied the pair a while longer, and a soft smile slowly curved her lips. So… they had followed her despite everything…

Without a sound she moved from shadow to shadow until she was behind them and then she took a step forward.
“So, you weren’t able to stay away after all? Not even after I’d told you I didn’t want to be followed?”
The purple haired woman whirled around.
“Lomenár! Captain!”
“Hello, Aariam.” Lomenár smiled a little and went to kneel by the cat.
“Elrren… hello, dear heart.”

The night was chilly. Not cold exactly, but chilly enough that Lomenár felt the need to wrap herself in a thick cloak. She was perched on a branch in the largest tree overlooking the new Feathermoon Stronghold. As if the reason for her travelling to Feralas hadn’t been unsettling enough, she’d found that the isle which Feathermoon originally had occupied had been overrun by naga and that a new and improved stronghold had been built on the mainland. She should have known about this, she knew… but she had been too wrapped up inside her own world of worries that it had completely slipped from her mind.

She stared down at the buildings below and sighed. From above the place looked almost like any other kaldorei settlement. Serene. Calm. Beautiful even. But she knew better. Down there awaited hell. The hell she had tried to leave all those millennia ago… but to no avail. Her thoughts wandered to the meeting she’d had with her former commander yesterday, and she shuddered.

“So, you finally deign to grace us with your presence, Shadowmist…” Bloodthorn’s face was the same unreadable mask as always and Lomenár thought she now knew how a field mouse must feel right before it was devoured by a snake.
“You called me here, Commander. I came as soon as I could.”
“Not nearly soon enough. We should have brought you back long ago.” The Commander’s eyes bore into Lomenár. She felt the beginning of a vicious headache, but she dared not look away.
“May I ask why, Commander? You knew why I left… you must have known that I didn’t want to come back… ever.”
“What we want does not matter, Shadowmist. You are a Sentinel, whether you want to or not. And as a Sentinel, your duty lies with the army. You understood the rules, you took the oath… but surely you remember that?”
“Yes, Commander. I remember.”
“So, by staying away you have forsaken your vows and renounced the Sisterhood that once trained, housed and fed you… what does that make you?”
Lomenár felt herself grow cold. Not the ordinary chill of fear. No, this was something else entirely. This was the frozen breath of death.
“A traitor, Commander.”
“And do you know what the sentence for treason is, Shadowmist?” A grim smile curled the Commander’s lips as she continued to stare into Lomenár’s face.
“Death, Commander.”

But she was not dead. Had not even been sentenced to death. Lomenár made a face as she thought about the punishment that had now been afflicted upon her. She had to give it to Bloodthorn, this was indeed much more cruel than death could ever hope to be.

Lomenár stood in front of the assembled Generals, Commanders, Lieutenants and Sentinels. She was dressed in the simple pants and tunic of a fledgling novice. She wore no restraints to hold her in place. Bloodthorn had counted on the fact that Lomenár would feel too ashamed and humiliated by being clad in a novice garb and without her weapons to even try to run. And she had been right. But Lomenár still held her head high as a show of defiance… and it was indeed a show. Inside, she felt nothing but meek and subdued. This trial would be her undoing, she knew.
“We have gathered here tonight to witness the trial of this Sentinel, Lomenár Shadowmist Nightsinger.” Bloodthorn’s voice echoed along the walls of the hall and almost, just almost, made Lomenár wince.
“The charges against her are as follows; she willingly took the oath to become a fully fledged Sentinel and then at the first opportunity she cast it aside… forsaking her Sisters and leaving them to their fates.”
An angry murmur swept through the hall and Lomenár could feel the icy stares of the assembled Sentinels stabbing into her. But, she also felt a stab of anger herself. Bloodthorn portrayed her as a dirty villain, and said -nothing- about her reasons for leaving. Yes, she had forsaken her vows… but, she had had no choice in the matter… none at all.
“For her actions, Sentinel Shadowmist has been labeled a traitor… and the punishment for treason is death.”
The mood within the hall changed from icy anger to gleeful mirth in an instant, and Lomenár fought back the panic that threatened to rise. She did not want to die! Not yet! Not now!

“However… we have decided that death is not the proper punishment for Sentinel Shadowmist after all. Over the past few months we have received intelligence that Shadowmist has joined the well known Order known as Nature’s Grasp, and has quickly risen to captaincy within their ranks. The Order of Nature’s Grasp has always been reliable to help out whenever and wherever they are needed, and the fact that Sentinel Shadowmist is now fighting underneath their banner proves that she can still be useful.” A confused murmur at this statement.
“We may be the kaldorei elite army, but we still revere life… and we do not want to kill unless we have to. So, we are prepared to offer you a deal, Shadowmist…” Lomenár could not hide the surprise she felt, and it must have shown because the Commander gave her one of her rare smiles.

“We would hate to lose you and your talents, Shadowmist. The deal is this; you will receive permission to remain with the Order of Nature’s Grasp and within that Order you will be able to form your own Sentinel regiment. This regiment will be an offshoot from the Sentinel army and you will be under the direct command of the Lieutenant-General herself, thus freeing you from some of the restraints you felt while you stayed within the army proper. You will have to make weekly reports on your regiment’s progress and you will have to attend the war councils here in Feathemoon whenever they are called for…” The Commander made a pause to judge Lomenár’s expression, which could only be described as dumbstruck.
“Should the Sentinels call for your aid, you will have to answer immediately… no questions asked. You will still be considered a traitor here in Feathermoon however… and your rights while in Feathermoon will be that of a traitor as well… that is… none. You will remain under that label until you have proven yourself in our eyes once more. Do you accept this offer, Shadowmist?”

Lomenár stared at Bloodthorn for a few long moments. Could she accept this burden of responsibility she was offered? In a way it would weigh even more heavily than being within the Sentinel army ever had. She would hold the lives of her friends within her hands at all times. She would be ultimately responsible for them and for their well being. She would never be able to leave again. But it was either this or death…

She understood their reasoning however. They could not allow a traitor back into the army… this way they dumped the problem on someone else, but they would still be able to make use of her and her skills whenever they wished. Killing her would benefit no one… by keeping her alive they assured themselves the assistance of the Order of Nature’s Grasp whenever they needed them. It was a win-win situation… for them. They had her trapped well and good, and they knew it.

“I accept, Commander.” Lomenár bowed her head and felt the heavy burden of responsibility land on her shoulders and push them down.

Lomenár shook herself free of the dark memories regarding last night. This was no time for brooding or feeling sorry for herself. She was alive and Elrren and Aariam were down there somewhere. She would spend the night in their company, and tomorrow they would start on the journey back to Darnassus. Back to the Order. Back home.