DenialThe Blasted Lands, as the name implied, were a wasteland, a piece of hell completely devoid of life, or at least life of the kind that one possessing a sane mind appreciates. The creatures that wandered its barren plains were either those that were drawn to the region for reasons either good or ill, or simply had no choice in the matter.
Currently mounted on one of the horses that humans bred, namely in that it lacked the superior breeding techniques of the elves, Shahra Dreamsinger considered herself one of the former. The two mounted Nethergarde soldiers accompanying her however, were definitely those of the latter, and made no secret of their reluctance.
"Why anyone would want to travel down this path is beyond me," muttered Roan, namely of the soldiers that was escorting Shahra, his full plate armour clanking heavily as if to agree with his assessment. Had the human even tried to hide his words from the elf, he would have failed; elven ears were simply too refined not to miss the simple words of the common tongue of men. That the wasteland had descended into absolute silence, the only alternative being howling, unearthly winds, only added to the female elf's ability to hear.
"It's to be expected really," pointed out the second soldier, Jerrik, leaning over to his comrade as he did so. "She's an elf. They've always got there ears up in the clouds, and their brains by extension."
Shahra remained quiet as the two grunts chuckled, although she was fuming mentally. Whether her ears were indeed up in the clouds or not, they were beginning to turn red just the same.
The soldiers clearly expected, or at least hoped that Shahra would respond to their comments given that, due to a lack of any response, they drew their mounts up from riding behind the elf to either side of her. While externally it may have conveyed a sense of more secure protection, internally, or at least in Shahra's mind, the humans' actions were clearly intended to intimidate.
"Why do you want to head to the Dark Portal anyway?" asked Roan, the one that Shahra had judged to be the elder of the two, given that his face was more heavily tanned and weatherworn than his counterpart, indicating that he had been stationed at Nethergarde for awhile, the rank of captain adding further credence to the assumption. "Some sort of warped pilgrimage?"
The blue glow in Shahra's eyes turned a lighter shade of blue as she glared at the man; "My reasons are my own, sir. I'd prefer it if you respected-…"
"Want to go orc hunting perhaps? You'll find some good old fashioned brutes in Outland." The second comment had come from what Jerrik. Shahra guessed that he was at least a decade younger than his comrade, given that he was paler, more energetic and, given his comments about orcs and ogres, disappointed that hunting them down was no longer as simple as it had been during the Second War and its aftermath. He must have born a generation too late to experience the adventure and horror of such a conflict. Such was the result of short life spans.
"Don't kid yourself squirt," Roan chuckled. "Leather armour and a flimsy dagger do not a warrior make." Shahra shuffled uncomfortably on her saddle, reflecting how such light armour and weaponry were next to useless against the beasts that roamed these lands and the homeland of the orcs.
Still it was all she could afford, or at least afford to have enough gold left over to hire two soldiers from Nethergarde to act as an escort in the journey south. Considering that the soldiers stationed at the fortress were veterans for the most part and that the wastelands were infested with dangerous creatures; ogres and demons among them, it had seemed like a good choice at the time. Once again though, irony and hindsight went together hand in hand.
"I'm capable of looking after myself," the elf responded stiffly, hoping that the soldiers would believe her more than she did. "You need not concern yourself with my safety after you've escorted me to my destination."
"Oh, we won't, trust me," spat the older man. "We all know how adept at elves are at letting others fight their battles after all!"
Shahra visibly winced; she was aware of the bitterness that many humans felt, especially those of Lordaeron, towards the elves of Quel'Thalas for abandoning the Alliance after the Second War, having considered their debt to those of the Arathi bloodline, namely through Sir Anduin Lothar, repaid. That hundreds of humans had given their lives to defend the kingdom and therefore allowing its leaders to come to the not so astounding conclusion that the Horde was indeed a universal threat, was apparently irrelevant.
Still, the Scourge's desecration of the ancient forest kingdom had been testament to the saying that "pride comes before a fall." Without the support of the Alliance, Silvermoon had little hope of staying the hand of undeath. Shahra's people had paid a heavy price for their arrogance that dark day, and although she grieved for those that had fallen to the undead, she was at least partially grateful for the fact that justice had been served.
Unfortunately, many humans seemed to think that more justice was required, or at least that the quel'dorei deserved to experience more humility. Although Stormwind was welcoming as a whole for high elves who had declined to walk the path that their ruler had proposed, it was often overshadowed by the inhabitants that weren't so hospitable, who endeavoured to make life unpleasant through their comments; "donkey ears", "magic addict", "backstabber…"
"I am sorry for what happened in the Second War, truly," said Shahra softly, the blue glow of her eyes becoming less vibrant. "However, my people are in your hands now."
"Your point being?" snarled Roan.
"My point," said Shahra; "is that we are at your mercy, and I hope that you give us a chance to redeem ourselves before you tighten your grip."
"Oh can the melodrama!" yelled Roan, even causing Jerrik, who had previously been listening passively while enjoying the show, to look up in surprise. "You elves, you think yourselves so high and mighty! Your kind knows nothing of loss!"
"What!" The icy glow in Shahra's eyes would have made even the Lich King proud. However, unlike the lord of the undead, Shahra's rage was far more raw and vibrant. Standard human prejudice was one thing, but for this man to suggest that…that…
"How dare you suggest such a thing!" the elf snarled. "You weren't the one who lost your homeland to undeath!"
"Yeah, we lost it to the orcs instead!" Roan responded. "And we would have had an easier time defending it in the Horde's second invasion if your kind had sent more than a single cadre of archers!"
That Shahra's ears were red, her eyes icy blue and her knuckles white, it was obvious that she was either under a lot of stress or experiencing rage worthy of a demon. In actual fact it was a combination. It might have abated had Shahra been allowed to put forward her point that the said cadre not only accounted for the deaths of hundreds of orcs but had been led by Alleria Windrunner, a ranger who had not only been regarded as one of the most skilled archers in the known world, but had fought and died alongside her companions to seal the Dark Portal and save Azeroth from destruction, but she decided that it wasn't worth getting deeper into the quagmire of debate. Still, she mused bitterly on the man's words; anyone who said that elves never made sacrifices for the greater good was either woefully ignorant of history or blatantly ignored it. She guessed that Roan at least was one of the latter.
"And once again, humanity has to fight your people's battles for them!" continued Roan, pressing his point, shattering Shahra's misfounded hope that the argument would peter out. "Giving gold to the CO for an escort! We're soldiers, not mercenaries!"
"She did give us an excuse to actually get out of the fortress," said Jerrik softly. While he had been enjoying the show up to this point, he had become aware that bodily harm to either his captain or the elf was now a distinct possibility.
Of course, with full plate armour and a longsword up against a flimsy dagger and leather armour, the chances were heavily in favour of Roan. Although Jerrik had his share of healthy prejudice (although those strange nocturnal elves that sometimes appeared in the eastern kingdoms often urged far more extreme actions), Jerrik had no particular desire for yet another corpse to be added to the lands around Nethergarde; the captain would almost certainly find a way to get some of the blood off his hands and put it on his subordinate's, therefore being able to share the blame. Needless to say, Jerrik didn't want this; he had other plans for the future.
"We only have a few more miles to travel," murmured Shahra, gritting her teeth. "It won't be long before we're both pleasantly bereft of each other's company."
"But by what means?" Roan snarled, not trusting Shahra any further than she could probably throw him (since he could probably throw the frail bitch quite far, the usual phrase didn't work). "How do we know that you're not leading us into some kind of ambush?"
Shahra chuckled softly at the human's suspicion, how he'd barely thought out his irrational accusations before voicing them. Still, it was likely that the human would take silence as an admission of guilt, so the elf had to respond; "I think even you realise how unlikely that is, good sir. These lands are virtually bereft of all life, the only creatures of note being ogres, which don't have the mental capacity to even understand what an ambush is and demons, who would slaughter me along with you two."
Roan made a move to respond but stopped short, logic defeating him. However, while logic had won the battle, the war had yet to end; "Fair enough, but why travel down this road? What could possibly prompt your interest?"
Shahra sighed, irritated at the return to their first argument; "I thought we'd already gone through this. My reasons are my own and-…"
"Want to join up with your brethren perhaps?" asked Jerrik light heartedly, glad that the conversation had taken upon a more civil tone and was therefore safe for him to re-enter. "I hear that Outland is a haven for the blood elves. You know, the rest of your kind."
That did it. Shahra yanked the reigns of her horse, bringing it to a sharp stop that was no doubt unpleasant for the creature. Both men brought their own mounts to a stop (more gently of course) and looked at her with surprise and curiosity. For their efforts, a stare of pure ice greeted them, the elf looking at the humans with a combination of hatred and disgust. Even the air around them seemed unusually cold. Ironic how what had been a light hearted statement, or at least intended as such, had sent the female over the edge.
"How dare you?" Shahra whispered. "How dare you think that I would willingly join those, those..."
"Those that gave into their lust for power and magic?" Roan asked. "It's a fair assumption really. After all, the elven race is divided into those that have accepted the truth about their tainted blood and those who have yet to do so." He leered at her; "Protecting potential traitors is hardly appealing, don't you think?"
"Are you insane!" Shahra yelled. "Do you seriously think my people would embrace the path our dark-…"
"What people?" asked Roan snidely. "The blood elves are the people of Quel'Thalas now. I couldn't really apply the term to you so called high elves." He gave out a malicious chuckle; "Even the name of your race is a relic of the past. And why should we waste our time guarding that?"
The icy glow in Shahra's eyes remained, although the effect was reduced due to the tears running down her face. After five years of living in Stormwind, Shahra, like the rest of her kind, had learnt to deal with the odd insult and glance of suspicion, mainly because they could understand the nature of the hostility the members of the Alliance regarded them with, ranging from bitter memories of the Second War from the humans, differing philosophies from dwarves and gnomes and outright hatred and disgust from the, thankfully few, night elves.
Still, they'd persevered, each elf with his or her own method. Shahra could bear it because she understood that the suspicion was warranted to a degree, what with the elves leaving the Alliance after the Second War and the dark history of the Highborne. She'd lived in hope that, in time, the high elves could account for these sins and be fully welcomed by their former allies and current protectors.
However, if such suspicions existed in humans, namely the race that had been the most welcoming and sympathetic to the quel'dorei as a whole, thoughts that they could even consider siding with their demon consorting brethren, those that had spat upon everything that Silvermoon had stood for, then what hope was there for redemption in their eyes? It had become clear to Shahra that the Alliance would never accept her people and would probably execute genocide as soon as the night elves reached the required level of political influence. What hope was there?
None as far as Shahra could see.
Such a conclusion explained why the elf jumped down from the horse that she'd been riding, tossing the reigns to a startled Jerrik. With that, she stormed off, still heading for the Dark Portal, but uncaring as to whether she actually reached it. These former cave dwellers could never understand her reasons for wishing to visit Outland anymore than they could understand the plight of her people.
"Where you off to now?" called out Roan. He was glad that he was finally bereft of the magic addict's presence but was still curious as to whether she was continuing towards her original destination.
"Away from you!" Shahra shouted, quickening. "You and your damned Alliance can go to hell for all I care."
"Oh we won't be doing that," Roan sneered. "We're not heading in the same direction as you and the rest of your bastard race!"
"Wh…what about your horse?" Jerrik asked softly, or at least as softly as possible while still ensuring that Shahra could hear him. He had his suspicions about the elf, but this seemed a little…extreme. Plus, elves were aesthetically pleasing after all.
"Take it back to Nethergarde," Shahra called out, her voice sounding hollow rather than full of rage. She could tell that Jerrik had a sense of decency that far outstripped that of his superior. However, giving in to the baleful influence of hope and believing that more people like Jerrik existed in the world was tantamount to suicide and Shahra managed to resist it and kept walking, not caring nor noticing that both soldiers turned their horses around and started heading back to Nethergarde.
"Hope has no strength," Shahra reflected bitterly. It was merely the refuge of the deluded, those who refused to face reality. Shahra was facing reality right now, namely that her kind were not welcome in the Alliance and never would be. The Horde was hardly an alternative, but not due to the negative portrayal that the Alliance gave, one that the Horde presumably returned to its counterpart. High elves had fought and killed orcs and trolls in the past and the Horde was full of those.
No, the Horde would be no more welcoming to Shahra or her people than the Alliance. Orcs and trolls had reason to her hate elves almost as much as humans and the tauren had expressed disgust at their magical addiction numerous times. Plus, the sin'dorei had been welcomed into their ranks also. That, of all things, made joining the Horde out of the question.
"There is an alternative though." Shahra stopped, startled at the voice. Was she not alone out here? The Blasted Lands were as empty as far as she could see, but that did not necessarily mean that they were. "What alternative?" she whispered, deciding that the voice was simply her conscience speaking to her, yet still being unnerved by it.
"Consider these facts; the Alliance will never accept you and the Horde will hardly be welcoming either. However, while the former is a rabble of hypocritical dogs, the latter at least has a degree of honour to it, not to mention fellow kin."
Shahra shook her head as she kept walking; "The blood elves are NOT my kin, nor will they ever be!"
"And under what basis is that? The humans that left you to your own devices just now were rare among their kind in that they did not stab you in the back at the earliest opportunity. The Alliance will never offer tolerance nor security to your people and their double standards will only prevent genocide for so long."
"So then what? I'm to offer my services to a bunch of savages?" Although the events of the Third War had led many to accept that the Horde was not the same juggernaut of destruction as it had been in the past, even elves had trouble overcoming established prejudices, even ones established ten millennia ago.
"Not necessarily. But remember that, apart from ideology, the sin'dorei and quel'dorei are the same. Outland can offer you sanctuary, something more than what your motives provide for. The blood elves can offer a better life, something that the Alliance nor Horde will never do. Consider this well, for choice is still open to you." With that, the voice of Shahra's conscience faded, leaving the wind as the only source of sound. She stopped to savour it, despite the dust the breeze carried. Eventually she resumed her trek southwards, marvelling at how despair could affect a person's line of thinking.
But still…
Sujet: Re: Fanfiction of Warcraft 
Sam 3 Avr - 0:46
