From the Darkness
Part 9
The humans have a saying: ‘Life is a highway.’ I always found that phrase odd. It’s like something from a bad song. Deep down, I know what it’s analogues to. It’s just, the pessimist in me thinks of highways as the place that’s teeming with ruffians who will try to ambush me. It’s the road full of potholes for me to stumble upon, even though it’s supposed to be maintained. It’s the road I get taxed to use too frequently.
Well, now that I think about it, perhaps life really is like a highway.
But all sarcasm aside, I know the phrase is more about the journey that one takes through life. And as I sit here on a slim perch, high on a tree, soaked to the bone, shivering in the cold wind, overlooking a warm and inviting campfire, I can’t help thinking back on the twists and turns the highway of my life has taken me for me to reach this point.
The last time I had crossed the Darkshore/Ashenvale border, it was because I had done something profoundly stupid and accepted work as a mercenary for a terrorist group. The Fires of Sanctity, a group that lobbied for the complete extermination of satyrs in Ashenvale, seemed like a worthwhile cause, except that not all satyrs what they seem to be. In my zeal to protect my homeland, I didn’t realize that until it was too late.
Long story short, a few years ago, something occurred to some of the moonwells in Ashenvale. They had become tainted somehow and the night elves that used them were transformed. The poisoned elves soon became satyrs themselves. First their bodies changed and then their minds followed.
The satyrs had found a way to increase their numbers.
Apparently there were a few who were able to overcome the evil that was consuming their minds, but those were a minority and even those sometimes faltered. It’s always easier to fall then to climb up.
I truly believed they were all dangerous. Even the minority who ‘supposedly’ maintained their sanity were ticking time bombs as far I was concerned, and though some of my people were loath to harm one of their own, even if their body was different, I had no such compulsions.
Then, things fell apart. The leader of the Fires of Sanctity turned out to be a demon herself! I had been fooled and used. By that point, I was already under arrest for attempting to murder one of the sane kal’dorei satyrs, a Cenarion Circle ranger.
I managed to save my hide by making a deal with my capturers and after helping them shutdown the Fires of Sanctity, they turned the other way and I was allowed to escape. It wasn’t until a year later, shortly before the fall of the Lich King, that I learned how my actions that shamed my mother, a champion sentinel officer.
After another misadventure, I returned to Darnasus and allowed myself to be taken into custody. I think I spent five months suffering through a claustrophobic nightmare in the barrows when a second chance fell upon me in a tragic fashion. Silverwind Refuge had fallen to the Horde and my mother, still a selfless and heroic sentinel, was killed while defending it. Her final request to the Silverwing Sentinels was to give me a chance to prove myself.
It’s important to understand that I never wanted to be a sentinel. I ran away from home to avoid the future my mother had planned for me. Five generations of Shadowcreek women have served in the Sentinels and as far as Reyada was concerned, I was going to be among them. I hated her for insisting such a thing.
Now, mother is dead, and I have just realized how much I truly miss her. The only people who ever visited me while I was in the barrows were my family. Her dying wish was that I be given a second chance. How can I refuse that?
Besides, I would have done anything to get away from that cramped cell. The nightmares still haunt me.
So here I am, a sentinel recruit. And I was about a third of the way through training when the world went to hell. Suddenly, we were being given duties to help the overwhelmed full-fledged sentinels deal with the new dangers that have arisen since the Shattering.
We did everything, from being guards in Lor'danel, to combing the beach and waters for bodies. The past few months had taken a toll on us, both physically and emotionally. I was looking forward to the two weeks leave that was being promised. There were even rumors that afterwards, we’d be returning to training, albeit at a much more truncated time table.
With the Horde pressing on us from the south, the Shatterspear trolls from the north, raging elementals and the ever pressing threat of Deathwing making another appearance, every fighter was needed. We knew our duty.
Well, now that I think about it, perhaps life really is like a highway.
But all sarcasm aside, I know the phrase is more about the journey that one takes through life. And as I sit here on a slim perch, high on a tree, soaked to the bone, shivering in the cold wind, overlooking a warm and inviting campfire, I can’t help thinking back on the twists and turns the highway of my life has taken me for me to reach this point.
The last time I had crossed the Darkshore/Ashenvale border, it was because I had done something profoundly stupid and accepted work as a mercenary for a terrorist group. The Fires of Sanctity, a group that lobbied for the complete extermination of satyrs in Ashenvale, seemed like a worthwhile cause, except that not all satyrs what they seem to be. In my zeal to protect my homeland, I didn’t realize that until it was too late.
Long story short, a few years ago, something occurred to some of the moonwells in Ashenvale. They had become tainted somehow and the night elves that used them were transformed. The poisoned elves soon became satyrs themselves. First their bodies changed and then their minds followed.
The satyrs had found a way to increase their numbers.
Apparently there were a few who were able to overcome the evil that was consuming their minds, but those were a minority and even those sometimes faltered. It’s always easier to fall then to climb up.
I truly believed they were all dangerous. Even the minority who ‘supposedly’ maintained their sanity were ticking time bombs as far I was concerned, and though some of my people were loath to harm one of their own, even if their body was different, I had no such compulsions.
Then, things fell apart. The leader of the Fires of Sanctity turned out to be a demon herself! I had been fooled and used. By that point, I was already under arrest for attempting to murder one of the sane kal’dorei satyrs, a Cenarion Circle ranger.
I managed to save my hide by making a deal with my capturers and after helping them shutdown the Fires of Sanctity, they turned the other way and I was allowed to escape. It wasn’t until a year later, shortly before the fall of the Lich King, that I learned how my actions that shamed my mother, a champion sentinel officer.
After another misadventure, I returned to Darnasus and allowed myself to be taken into custody. I think I spent five months suffering through a claustrophobic nightmare in the barrows when a second chance fell upon me in a tragic fashion. Silverwind Refuge had fallen to the Horde and my mother, still a selfless and heroic sentinel, was killed while defending it. Her final request to the Silverwing Sentinels was to give me a chance to prove myself.
It’s important to understand that I never wanted to be a sentinel. I ran away from home to avoid the future my mother had planned for me. Five generations of Shadowcreek women have served in the Sentinels and as far as Reyada was concerned, I was going to be among them. I hated her for insisting such a thing.
Now, mother is dead, and I have just realized how much I truly miss her. The only people who ever visited me while I was in the barrows were my family. Her dying wish was that I be given a second chance. How can I refuse that?
Besides, I would have done anything to get away from that cramped cell. The nightmares still haunt me.
So here I am, a sentinel recruit. And I was about a third of the way through training when the world went to hell. Suddenly, we were being given duties to help the overwhelmed full-fledged sentinels deal with the new dangers that have arisen since the Shattering.
We did everything, from being guards in Lor'danel, to combing the beach and waters for bodies. The past few months had taken a toll on us, both physically and emotionally. I was looking forward to the two weeks leave that was being promised. There were even rumors that afterwards, we’d be returning to training, albeit at a much more truncated time table.
With the Horde pressing on us from the south, the Shatterspear trolls from the north, raging elementals and the ever pressing threat of Deathwing making another appearance, every fighter was needed. We knew our duty.