Oh, goddess.
A pair of tired green eyes stared wearily at the bright sun in the orange sky of Draenor. Go away, Maiev Shadowsong said crossly in her mind as she raised a hand to her brow, fending off the light. The heat was nigh unbearable, causing her to sweat profusely beneath her heavy armor. She had considered removing it but beat back the idea as soon as she remembered her pride.
Show no weaknesses. Let nothing stand in the way of justice.
But it grew increasingly harder to carry these ideals as Maiev�s time in Draenor stretched to weeks. The sun ate away at her body and senses; she was still sharp, but fading, far from her usual snappy intuition and reflexes. There was a slight quiver in her fingers when she moved, a permanent part in her cracked lips, the gleam in her eye duller than what her Watchers were used to.
The small band of night elven women were in worse shape than their mistress. The severe lack of provisions was beginning to take its toll on them; a constant rumbling of empty stomachs could be heard throughout their makeshift camp amidst wistful sighs from dry lips. Little to no energy was wasted on speaking, unless the matter was of utmost importance; but at this point, the women cared only about finding rescue and a way back home to Darnassus.
Except for the warden.
She was miserable but still retained iron will to perform her duties. Illidan had to be recaptured, no questions asked. She fully intended to die here if she failed in her mission.
Considering the situation, she certainly wouldn�t be surprised if it happened.
She stared at a nearby pile of rich ashes, contemplating, wondering if anyone would still be alive to cremate her when she died as her Watchers had done ritually to their sisters when they passed. Perhaps Illidan would find her lifeless body and perform the ritual for her from pity.
A humorless smirk tugged at her dry lips. He�d be more likely to dance upon her corpse and leave it to rot than honorably rid of it in flames.
The sobs of a woman across the camp drew her attention. Dala Moonblade, a relatively new recruit, sat with her face in her hands, trying unsuccessfully to muffle her sniffs and coughs.
�Stop wasting your tears and pull yourself together,� Maiev said gruffly to the woman, sans the usual sharp tone she carried when reprimanding her Watchers and the hard, piercing stare.
�Yes, Mistress,� Dala replied shakily.
Not two minutes later, a series of sniffs and small coughs reached Maiev�s ears again. �Stop whining,� she snapped loudly, irritated. The sobs stopped and did not return this time, allowing Maiev to continue with her thoughts.
ly be over if they were ambushed, by humanoids or monsters alike. Thus far they had lucky enough to avoid the larger, more dangerous creatures of Draenor that likely would�ve torn them to pieces in their current state. They had also avoided the attention of the naga and blood elves, Illidan�s band of rogue followers. The women were happy of this fact, for attracting their attention meant a sure and painful death.
All the women except Maiev. She contemplated walking off on her own to find them, perhaps attempting to offer herself to Illidan as gift if she ever found him, though she was positive that the rest of her days as his slave would be excruciatingly unpleasant. The idea had merit in her mind, but she could not leave her small band of weak women. The idea of abandoning them was thrown away by guilt every time it passed her mind, which was often.
She just hoped they would somehow find an honorable way to die.
A hoarse shriek alerted her attention. She turned in time to watch a spear run through one of her women�s necks, silencing her after a gurgle and a spurt of blood. A scaly naga came into view, slithering out from behind the rock the woman was resting on, its mouth open as its battle cry echoed from the rocks.
The elf women scrambled to their feet in a desperate attempt to defend themselves. A slew of naga with their skewers and swords burst into the valley, followed by the pale blood elves, their lips ever-moving as they cast spells.
Maiev watched in horror as the first wave destroyed the Sentinels closest to them, the blades and spells literally tearing the women apart. The shock and fatigue had her frozen in place, unable to even call for organization; she realized that even if she did have the strength to do it, her band would not be able together and defend themselves, or even try to run, anyway.
A shadowy figure rose over the ridge, drawing her gaze; her eyes narrowed as she recognized Illidan�s demonic form, flanked by the naga Lady Vashj and Prince Kael�thas of the blood elves. Kael�thas caught her eyes; she saw him murmur something to his master as he pointed a long claw at her, drawing the attention of Vashj as well.
As Illidan�s face turned toward her, she saw a smirk playing on his face; it turned into an outward grin as soon as he realized she saw him.