The Vanquishers

This tale takes place well before WoD launched. This is just after Zykla returned from her private engagement, returned from "the dead" as many thought her deceased, and before Sharina was bonded into the armor she currently wears in battle and almost constantly wears while in Dreanor.

"War waged before the temple as the mogu destroyed themselves, unleashing the full weight of their doubt, anger, fear, hatred, violence and despair." - The Warlord and the Monk, Pandaren Story

Fear, anger, despair, and Sharina Sylversword knew all of these things. She was as intimate with them as she was her beloved mate.

She feared failure, for in her world failing meant that someone she loved would certainly die, and that would be her fault for not being strong enough to prevail and rise victorious. She feared the Fel powers that had robbed her of her life, of years she could not regain, and those that fell under the sway of such powers. She feared her dreams, as they were ripe with memories of the kinds of torment only those that had survived having their souls ripped from their flesh and cast into a hellish half-existence, caught between life and death, could ever hope to fully comprehend.

She knew depression of depths that would stun her mate, and would stun most that knew her. While creatures of evil wore her skin she had done horrible things. Things that made her wish all it had been was a string of murders. She did not volunteer to this cursed life, she had not done more than sought out means to be stronger for her people, for the people of Azeroth. She sought strength and her reward was to lose herself to evils of ancient and powerful dark magics. She was saved, both times, by others that were stronger than she, more knowledgeable and more thoughtful. Saved only to find that what she clung to before was gone when she returned. She lost her home, she lost her reputation, and she lost those she held as close friends. When one fails and looses, and suffers living only to apparently repeat this cycle, one cannot help but see life as a cruel joke.

She was angry, so very angry, and that rose from her fear and her despair. She feared and that made her feel nothing but a wrathful drive to destroy those things that made her fear. She despaired and that gave her a rage against that history that welled up within her like a blood soaked tide to wash over those that seemed to ignore or deny her experience.

She raged within constantly. This undercurrent of wrath was perpetual and boiled just under a facade of a calm exterior. When it found direction she felt as if she could do nothing but stand idle as she watched her form act of its own accord. She said things, cruel things, and when roused to violence it was with a singular goal, to destroy the target utterly.

Her fear and her depression lead her to wrath, and her wrath only fed back into her fear and her despair. When she managed to push the bloody surge back under the surface she looked upon what she had done and knew nothing but regret. Regret and fear that she would lose control yet again.

What would happen if Des'inique ever pushed her to lose her tenuous control on her seething emotions? They were at odds now. Sharina had renounced her place in the Vanquishers, hedged out by those that did not deem her opinions worthwhile, pushed aside because they felt her place was not needed in the absence of their leader. Since then the two lovers had nothing but tension. Sharina had gone to Shattrath to find peace, and had thought she had found it, but this only drove the pair further apart. Sharina sacrificed and found no solace in her life, not in any arms, not in any words, and not in any location. She had pledged her life and her sword to the guild, to the Alliance, and to the Naaru of Shattreath... and she was constantly gently cast out of each.

Most recently she had been asked to leave Shattrath. A'dal had sensed her anger, the darkness that welled within her and was pushing closer to the surface with each event that drove the Sword of Teldrassil deeper into her emotional turmoils, and though she was keeping some control on it while within the Light of the city, every time she left and returned the darkness had grown stronger. She could not stay within the city. Her peace was only temporary, eventually the Naaru knew she would lose the battle and be consumed by the darkness. The Light was only holding the shadows at bay, but it was not curing her of this threat within.

Fear. Anger. Despair.

Each event did nothing to help her guard against these feelings, instead it nurtured it within her. It gave her darkness more power to fight her. To well up within her and seek to drown others in her crimson tide.

Des'inique could not help her, as much as Sharina wished it were otherwise. Her father Ourrin could not help her, as though he could more closely understand her situation he was powerless to shrive her of her darkness. Her guild could not help her, as Zykla had confessed to the ruse her "death" had been and the actions she took while missing did nothing but gall the Kaldorei warrior, Graggar was dealing with his own issues and was a world away despite the fact that Pandaria was a part of Azeroth, and the rest of the guild was less to her than the stars were to the earth. Despite this Sharina knew she needed help. She was standing at the edge of the cliff and the waters rising behind her left no place to escape to. She needed some means to hold onto something at the edge of the cliff lest she drown and be swept over into oblivion for a third and final time.

She feared this more than anything else. She knew if she lost this battle, if she let herself be swept over the edge, there would be no return this time. This time it would not be some dark entity that wore her flesh, for if she did not fight the tide she would embrace it. What emerged from the dark waters at the bottom of the descent would still be her, it would just be the worst things that made up Sharina Sylversword. She had heard the Pandaren had a name for this kind of creature. The Sha. Negative emotion made manifest. She would be a living Sha. With nothing but malice to drive her. A hatred of everything and everyone that had brought her to that rebirth in darkness.

So, driven to not give up until there were no options, she went to speak with one she knew was well acquainted with both the darkness and the Light. Hauthaa, a former paladin and smith of the Shattered Sun Offensive. A friend from the time Sharina had been a part of that noble organization. This Draenei warrior woman had given up her role as a warrior of the Light when she had found her own negativity was effecting her command of the light, Sharina knew this from the times they had spoken between engagements, and there was no one that Sharina currently trusted more to help her in her internal conundrum.

Sharina's plan was simple really. She needed to be stronger, strong enough to defeath some creature like Meakan, some hell birthed undead creature with powers drawn from the darkness Sharina tried so hard to resist and deny. She needed means to gain the power to stand against a Dreadlord if need be. She also needed something that could contain her darkness. Some armor that would protect her, allow her to wade into battle against the worst beings the Endless dark could bring up against her, and would force her own evils to remain locked deep inside. She needed a holy armor. There was no better choice, in her mind, than the Draenei smith that knew both the darness and the Light.

No one knew she had this idea. She presented it to Hauthaa and then waited. A month passed and then the letter came.

Lady Sylversword,
In regards to your inquiry I believe my associates and I have something that will perform to your specifications. Master Lao has an ancient design that is intended to collect energies and contain them within the armor. I have spoken with Anwehu and he believes he can gather the materials I feel will be proper for the armor. In addition I have spoken with Fallat, whom appears to know you at least as well as I, and will be happy to lend his powers of the Light to endow the suit with spells of containment and holy power. Due to your words to him, commendations are in order for your proactive behavior in this, Fallat has conscripted Farii and Nahogg to provide the gems and enchantment matrices I will require. I need some more time to confer with Master Lao, as his Pandaren design is unusual to me, and then I shall gather the materials and meet Fallat, Farii, and Nahogg in the Exodar. We shall use that location for the procedure. Be forewarned that what you seek is unique and that carries with it distinct dangers. I shall not mislead you, there is a possibility you will not survive the process, however I have gathered some of the most revered specialists in each of the required fields and I feel confident that we can give you the security you are seeking. Both within and without. I shall send another letter to tell you when you must present yourself to us at the Exodar. I would advise you to arrange any final matters in case the worse occurs, and to bring someone close to you to help you in the transition that shall follow after we succeed.

Be blessed in the Light.

Your friend,

Hauthaa.

Sharina went into Ironforge to gather some supplies, received her letter, and now sat in the front room of the lake side home waiting for Des'inique to return from a meeting with the guild she still called her own. The letter held open in her calloused hands. He good eye looking down to the words written in an elegant script and then up to the door.

She had never confessed this plan to her mate, but she saw no other options. She would not go and do this without Des knowing what would come in the near future, though she would go and have it done regardless of what this evening entailed. She could not run from Des on this, she would not run from her only love. This was something that had to be done, for Sharina and for all those she cared about, and it was important to the warrior of Darkshore that her mate support her in this. It was not an easy choice to make, there were risks, but after all that they had seen, after all the hells Sharina endured, it was something that had to be addressed.

So she sat at the opposite end of the foyer, watched the door in a casual gown she wore about the house, listened to her adopted Wolvar pup playing outside, and waited for her mate to come home.

If juggling was a required life skill, Des’inique Forestchylde felt like she was completely failing at it currently. The cold wind whipped her purple hair about her face as her guardian mount Sunwing carried her through the air homeward as she wondered if it would have been better if she should have just stayed the night in an Inn before returning home from the guild meeting she had just left. Sighing heavily into the night air, she looked to the west to see the last vestiges of color from the day fade into indigo as she felt her own spirit darken along with the ambient light. When did her life become so upside down? First her family trying to force themselves back into her life with an arranged marriage, which she finally fended off indefinitely by going and arguing with them which basically got her completely disowned. Then her guild leader seemingly was killed, which lead to insane turmoil within the Vanquishers until Zykla reappeared, healthy and whole - her death being nothing more than a ruse for some secret mission she was on that Des still didn’t quite understand. Lastly there was her mate, the woman she looked up to the most and considered her her rock up until now as she seemed to be spiralling into a deep depression and rage, lashing out at everyone and everything that even remotely got close to her.

Des’inique could feel her stomach tighten into a series of knots as she thought about her mate as she got closer to her destination. Shouldn’t a mate inspire desire and love instead of dread and fear? Granted, she knew Sharina would never do anything to her, but it felt like she was walking on shards of glass when she was with her as she just never knew what Sharina she’d be walking in on… ever. Sometimes she’d get a mild-mannered Sharina, but then she’d change on a dime even if they talked about banal subjects as strange and random things would set her off. Des didn’t want to avoid her, but for her own mental health she sometimes had to escape out into the woods for a ‘long trapping run’, or so she’d say to Sharina. Granted, she wasn’t lying, not completely. She’d be out in the woods, running down her trap lines so she could take her catch home to skin and preserve the meat, usually to sell the skins or use them herself depending on what she needed, but she didn’t need to do it as often as she did. However bad she felt for running out like that, she had to so her stomach could settle, so she could get a tiny bit of piece from the walking time bomb that was Sharina, Goddess help her.

The Huntress briefly wondered if this wasn’t her own fault in a fashion. After all Sharina had seemed like she was getting better when she was living in Shattrath and had been practically glowing with light at one point. She had almost begged Des to come live with her there, but she couldn’t stand Outland. Every part of that destroyed world felt so wrong, so alien to her, it made her feel like her skin was crawling and she just couldn’t put a finger on why she felt that way there. Even then, she was so torn as Sharina seemed so much better and happier there, but the place made her miserable as she longed for the forests of Azeroth with a passion. Plus to make matters worse every time Sharina even ventured into Azeroth, she'd deteriorate so quickly it was hard to get herself put back together as good as she had been before she had left Shattrath. She had left apparently one too many times and deteriorated so far that no one in Shattrath could help her anymore and had turned her away... A rejection that nearly tore Sharina asunder if it wasn't for Des catching her and finding a new home far from everything for them both. A refuge for Sharia... but it was turning into something else for Des...

Des wanted her mate to be happy and healthy, but she also selfishly wanted a mate she could be with where she could feel happy and healthy. A chilling realization crawled over her as maybe this was the end of their relationship as Des was starting to realize that nothing she did could ever help her mate and it was starting to drag her down to like a being caught in the lee of a sinking ship. Goddess help her she loved Sharina with all her heart and just the thought of them breaking up made her heart feel like it was ripping out of her chest as her eyes blurred with tears, but she can't keep living like this! Oh Elune, what was she to do?

Feeling her mount descend, she looked up to see the glow from the modest cottage below as it looked like Sharia had waited up for her. Damn, it would have been better if she was already asleep, she really didn't feel like talking to her as she knew she'd want to know about the guild meeting even if she professed to dislike the group and it would probably just lead into another one of her episodes and Des's stomach just tightened at the thought of it to the point of making her cramp up. Sunwing touched down with such a light touch, one would barely know they weren't flying anymore as the guardian mount had quite the feline grace as she leaned over and gave the glowing cat a hug in thanks for the ride and to bolster herself as yet again she had no clue what she was walking into. As she finally sighed and dismounted the creature changed into a smaller version of himself and followed in her wake like a bumbling kitten as she pushed open the door to find her mate waiting for her.

Unslinging her bow and quiver, she unstrung the bow and put it up on a stand of weapons near the door. Not that she wasn't armed at all times, living in the shadow of Lordaeron one was ever at the ready just in case as she had several smaller bows hidden all over the house.

"Hi," she said lamely, trying to smile a bit, "I, uh, need to get out of this armor..." she pointed at the stairs and then quickly ascended them as she did want to get out of her armor and get into something a bit more comfortable at least before anything further was said...

She watched as her mate moved into their shared home, a human styled home stead secreted far into forsaken back woods, and the always perceptive warrior noted the slight reserve to her motions. As if Des was stalking the most elusive of prey, a creature that was so wary and so quick to reaction if even marginally surprised, that every step had to be chosen carefully lest the silence of the moment be disturbed.

Walking on eggshells was what some called the behavior. In the footsteps of the huntress the smaller version of the guardian beast plodded along, content and oblivious to the moods of its bonded rider. The distinct difference between the two marked each even more clearly for the nature each was exhibiting.

"Hi. I, uh, need to get out of this armor."

This was said with a weak smile and what almost seemed like a dash toward the security of the upstairs... where Sharina was not. The warrior nodded and smiled in response to the words, her cyclopian vision watching her mate move away from her presence, but said nothing. What was there to say in such a situation? Nothing that would help of course. Nothing that would instantly mend the tears that had started in the fabric between them. Nothing that would prepare either of them for what was to come. Sharina would not run from it, could not run from it, so she focused on breathing in a relaxed fashion and waited patiently.