Exodus of Sel'Belore

It was dawn, belore would be shining down upon the forests of Eversong upon her favored children the quel'dorei, but the rolling clouds of smoke and soot blocked her - fires from the human cities to west had caused a strife of darkness to roll upon the land of the sun. The Quel'dorei, those that considered themselves wise and patient were in a panic and haste of what coming upon them.

The Ranger-General Sylvannas Windrunner had amassed all Farstriders in the area to prepare to defend their lands that were still recovering from the fires of the second war. One by one she gave orders to the Captain's of dozens of Farstrider Squadrons, most were standard line order - when they would step up to volley arrows into the Advancing scourge.

"Captain Darkfyre." Sylvannas ordered forward along the lines of Farstrider captain's in front of her.

The young raven-haired captain stepped forward, inclining her head at the Ranger-General before matching her gaze.

"Take your squad to the eastern reach of Eversong, evacuate the villages of Sel'belore and Quen'tesis, the second fleet shall be awaiting to take as many civilians as possible."

"You really think the scourge will breach our walls general?" Mirava asked with a visible frown upon her lips.

Sylvannas arched a brow, "You're young Captain, so I'll let the bold question slide. You have your orders, follow them or I'll find someone better to do so."

With a sharp Salute, Mirava acknowledged what that meant and returned back to the line.

"Many of you would question the incoming tide being thrown in our direction - a force of questionable origin and led by a former prince of Lordereon, a man we used to call our ally. I see the faces of many farstrider Captain's I fought alongside against those that would see our forests burn, our homes destroyed and our families torn asunder." Sylvannas began, walking down the line.

"Today we fight a foe that neither fears death or fate because they feel themselves above it - a very army of the undead that march upon our lands. They are a force that the humans of stratholme could not resist, the armies of Lordereon could not defend against. It is on the open battlefield that they hold power of unrelenting numbers."

She turned to face each of the Captain's as she continued. "But make no mistake, that will mean nothing on this day. The undead have fought humans, gnomes and dwarves in open battle. But their numbers will mean nothing when the very forests of Eversong close in on their ranks, as our arrows pierce their undead hearts."

"We have faced such foes before, we saw fate stare into our eyes and declare our time up. But we the Quel'dorei make our own fate. Once before the horde was upon our lands, they burned our very forest, slaughtered many of us in battle." She said in a darker tone with a head down before looking back up at the Captains.

"But our walls held, and our determination did not falter then. When the trolls emerged from the deep forests to attack our settlements. Did we falter? No, we pushed them back to their meaningless villages. We hunted their head-hunters and took down their leader!"

"Today is no different! Today we stare into the eyes of fate and say to it; not today old friend, the day is not yours. For the Tenacity of our race will never faulter! Elama ashal'anore!" She said, the captains repeating the last phrase in a loud choir before they dispersed to their assignments.

Mirava approached her men with a hastened pace, she could hear yells among the scouts - the undead were spotted close to the northern pass, it was only a matter of time.

The captain's sergeant greeted her with a solemn nod - Sergeant Vel'than Plainwalker was a half-elven recruit, a product of human-elven relationships. Although he was younger then her, he didn't look it, his hair was greying, giving him a distinguished salt-pepper look to him that ascended his sharp features.

"Sylvannas isn't one for speeches. Must mean moral is down." He said casually as the two of them walked towards the east side of the camp with fourteen farstrider rangers following them.

"We got word of that the King of Lordereon was slain recently.. and that reinforcements from Ironforge were cut off in Arathi." Mirava mentioned in a monotone, "Were on our own."

The sergeant looked distantly for a moment as shouts were heard, "Scourge approaching! First line, defensive position! DEFEND THE GATE! DESTROY THE BRIDGES!"

Mirava looked behind her shoulder at her men, "We have civilians to evacuate, lets not keep them waiting." She ordered as her squadron slipped into the forests in a dead sprint through the foliage and into the east.

As they darted through the forests, jumping over fallen logs it slowly became obvious to the eerie feeling; they wernt the only ones running - they saw fawns and stags alike running along side would be predators of bears and mountain lions.

"By the light..." The sergeant said, "Its as if the entire forest is fleeing from the scourge."

Mirava looked to her side towards the Captain with her good eye, "Then we better follow their example." She said in a huffed voice as the farstriders darted through the forests.

Mirava knew why her rangers were sent to the two villages, there would be major political ramifications should the coastal cities fall; the houses of Swiftward and her own house of Del'Var occupied those villages. The houses of Windrunner, Silentblade and BloodMyst also possessed manors that served as vacation homes in the trade village of and quen'tesis the port city of Sel'Belore. And since the courts were not in session, many nobles of these houses would be in the area.

The East Coast of Quel'thalas was comprised of rolling hills filled with beautiful vineyards, bordered by pristine coastal sand that would give rise to beautiful sunsets and dawns. It was why Sel'Belore would be translated, "Coast of the Sun." in her native tongue. The Swiftwards owned the majority of lands in the surrounding countryside, with the exception of the small percentage the Blackmane's owned near Quel'thalas. These lands produced the majority of the famous eversong wine that Quel'Thalas proudly exported and the Swiftwards were by no means poor - by contrast they were one of if not the wealthiest noble house in the lands.

Their leader, a Marquis by the name of Hallen Swiftrun was the lord of the lands. Mira had a particularly bad opinion of the man - a man that once tried to court her when she was young and his wife had passed away from plague. She had hoped silently that he had already left these lands, or died in the process. What was worse was that her own younger half-sister, Liska Del'Var was now courting the man's eldest son - and negotiations of a house merger were beginning. And Mirava hated the idea of considering herself a member of the swift run house.

The squad finally arrived at the village of Quen'tesis, a small but busy trade city where the wine of the countryside's many vineyard and winery's was tasted, graded labeled and either exported or kept inside the borders. The streets normally would be lined with traders of many races, with a contingent of Rangers standing proudly to show the elite military strength of the quel'dorei.

None was the case today as the streets were vacant of anything to be proud, instead it was littered with injured and dead militiamen who had looked like they had been overrun by an army. Those not injured were running up and down the streets, gathering civilians up and sending them to a location somewhere in the city.

"I thought the scourge had not came out this far yet." Mira's sergeant mentioned, looking about the city.

"The undead didn't do this." Came the voice of a gruff, grizzled voice.

An older gentlemen approached the rangers, equipped in an ancient but functional ensemble of chainmail and leather armor. The elf would be someone to point out of the crowd due to the vacancy of his left arm socket - no doubt an old testament to the wars these people fought not too long ago. Despite his handicap, the man was still armed with a balanced longsword that hung loosely at his belt.

Mirava knew this man, it was her father's brother Jerald Del'Var and the Patriarch of the House of Del'Var after her father and mother died. He 'was' retired but was known to still train the local militiamen and younger rangers in the area. No doubt he had come out of retirement during this attack.

"Trolls attacked us just as we were beginning to evacuate, we didn't stand a chance." He explained with a heavy burdened sigh.

With furrowed brows Mirava looked about the village before speaking. "There was a full contigent of rangers here I don---"

"They were ordered to Swiftward Manor in Sel'Belore in preparation of the incoming scourge by Marquis Hallen" Her uncle interrupted.

Mirava gritted her teeth and spoke the words, "That selfish swine..." she said while her uncle nodded in agreement.

"Colonel!" A voice was heard from a young man that couldn't be older then her own seventy year old son as he came running towards the rangers. "Trolls were spotted miles from here, they are attacking again this time they have old salvaged horde catapults!"

The Colonel's eyes darted to the man. "Corporal, make for double time the civilians at the east gate, place all injured and non-combatants in the cities trade wagons." He ordered calmly before looking to Mirava. "Captain you have your rangers flank our convoy, make your arrows count.

"Yes Uncle." Mirava said with a quick salute before nodding at her men, the squadron immediately heading towards the east gate.

Outside the gate was a sight to behold, an exodus of elves comprising of families, orphans and soldiers readied wagons to retreat from the city. Unfortunately it seems the uninjured soldiers were few in number, Mirava counted only twenty, and with her eight rangers...only twenty eight men to protect all these people. For a moment Mirava thought she would have been safer on the front lines.

The convoy trekked slowly across the hills as the fires of their homes and city gave way to a red glow in the night sky. Mirava walked beside one of the wagons that carried the cities Orphans, many were too young to even know what was going on.

"Ma'am" One of the boys politely said, "When we die, will we see our parents?"

Mirava looked to the boy, attempting to hide the shock from such a bold statement but before she could attempt to comfort the boy she heard a shout from the back of the convoy.

"Mirava to the rear girl! NOW!" She heard from her uncle.

"Mirava had sprinted to the rear of the convoy, her was uncle was a firm believer in military protocol and he just broke two communication ones. Which could mean one thing, trouble.

As she approached the rear she could see the problem without being told. Behind the convoy was a cloud of dust and smoke along with the sound of marching feet of trolls. She could see her uncle not looking at the oncoming marauders but rather their surroundings.

"Plenty of fallen trees and rollings for cover, we could delay them at least." He spoke in a low whisper.

Every militiaman and ranger knew what that meant. "We'll make our stand here sur--" The colonel began but was stopped as he knelt down in utter exhaustion.

As did nearly all the soldiers, it was like all their energy had suddenly left them. The colonel was the first to sit back up after the drain. "What in belore..."

"The sunwell, it must have been destroyed." Said Mirava's half-elven sergeant, who looked exhausted but not nearly as drained as the full quel'dorei.

The colonel looked dazed for a moment before regaining his composure, "Sergeant... Captain." He began. "Take your rangers and ensure that the convoy doubles their speed and reaches Sel'belore safetly."

"Uncle." Mirava began.

"That's an order!" The veteran bellowed. "I promised your father to look after you should he die and by t'under I wont have you die under my very command girl! You have your orders!"

"Sir." Mirava began but was grabbed by her arm by her sergeant. "Ma'am, we don't have time if we don't go now all these people will surely die." He said grimly with a frown.

The colonel nodded at the sergeant in appreciation and turned towards the oncoming tolls, unsheathing his blade.

As Mirava and her squad rejoined the convoy, prodding the hawkstriders to move faster pulling the wagons they dint look back, rangers didn't look back because they knew. The Colonel and his men would die, with honor defending Quel'Thalas.

The port of Sel'Belore would have been a bustling port with goods and coins from all over Azeroth treading its streets. This day it was busy as well but its people were in a panic - supplies and refugees pouring in from all over the territory.

Mirava's own caravan was one of the last to make it - and one of the few without heavy injuries. But they were stopped from entering the city by an unwelcoming barred gate.

She made her way forward to the front of the Caravan to the mob of refugees shouting at the guards. Their sergeant attempted to calm the crowd.

"I can only open this gate upon the orders of Count Highcrest, the ships are not yet ready." He explained, "Please be patient!"

"But there are trolls everywhere!" Shouted a panic civilian.

"And you are within the range of our soldiers - please, stay calm." He began to say once again.

"Ranger-General Windrunner ordered all civilians to the port - barring them would be a direct acting against her orders." Mirava said as she stepped forward with her rangers.

"How dare you speak to me in such ---" He said angrily as he turned to speak to Mirava. But as he noticed the red-cloak that identified her as a Ranger-Captain his demeanor changed.

"My apologies Captain, but I am under orders - I cannot open this gate."

"Only the king can belay orders of the Ranger General - No noble, not even a count."

"The King and general are both death." Interrupted a rather tall house guard bearing the tabard of house Highcrest. Fully armored, and helmed - the man could pass for a human knight if it wasn't for the slightly lithe demeanor and long blond hair that flowed delicately out of his helmet.

"Captain you and your -" He looked to her half-elven Sergeant and showed a disappointing frown. "Rangers are to come with me."

The house guard led the rangers through the gate and down the streets. Mirava made note of the covered wagons that were taken in haste . She had first assumed they were provisions - it would explain why the civilians were barred, such would have to be loaded first as to avoid the complications of a panic. With relief, she calmed her anger over the situation, until a very idolized self-portrait of a noble fell out of the wagon of a high-cheeked noble with a chiseled face and long flowing hair.

As they reached the port she saw a small group overlooking the ships being loaded. She recognized one of the men - Admiral Elenos Silverarrow, commander of the Seventh Fleet - also a family friend. The other judging by the quality of clothing and the two guards flanking him was no doubt the count in question, with short blond hair and a slightly hefty build for an elf he certainly fit the bill.

"Ah Captain!" The admiral said as he spotted Mirava, "Where is your uncle? Where is Colonel Del'Var? I understand he was with your group?"

"Dead sir - trolls." Mirava said simply with a hung head and heavy sigh.

"Damnit..." The admiral said as he furrowed his brows and lowered his head. "I fought with that old bastard, will this invasion not claim everyone of value? My apologies for your loss Mira.

Mirava stepped forward into the group nodding at the Admiral before looking to the count, "Why are the people not being put on the ships?" She asked - no demanded, her tone was accusing as one would a criminal.

"Watch your tone Captain - your in the presence of your better." Said the Guard that escorted her.

"That wont be necessary captain." The count said in a dismissing matter, Mirava noticed that the man arched an eyebrow at him but then inclined his head to acknowledge.

"Let me explain Captain, you see - it was determined by myself and the other nobles that the provisions be loaded first, we need to keep things civil after--" He began before he was interrupted by Mirava's sergeant.

"Bullshit." He said in common as he approached the group with his hand pointing to the wooden crane that was loading the said 'provisions.' "By the time your done loading your family heirlooms, there wont be room for civilians."

"Keen-eye for a half-breed.." Said the Guard Captain with a sneer.

"Sergeant, restrain yourself - or else we will do the honors ourselves." Said the Count with narrowed eyes.

"The hell you will." The sergeant said as he drew his bow and aimed. The guard reacted quickly but not quick enough as the arrow was let loose - flying across the harbor at the crane in question. Even for a Farstrider it would of been a difficult shot at best, but with a smile the ranger saw its mark hit true as the arrowhead pierced the rope and sent the crates of gold, jewelry and wine caskets into the bottom of the harbor.

His smile suddenly was replaced by shock as he looked down at the end of a blade sticking out of his chest, the guard captain had done the honors. "Knave.." he whispered before he removed the blade and kicked the Sergeant to the ground.

The scene had occurred quickly but Mirava had caught it quickly enough to find her hands cradling the head of the Sergeant. "Vel'tha..." She whispered, her hands now gripping his collar.

The sergeant managed to smirk as he cupped her cheek, looking into her eyes with a stubborn determination as he said the words, "Anu belore dela'na.." He whispered.

"Selama ashal'anore.." She said in response, kissing his forehead as she layed him to the ground. As he closed his eyes she wept, her fists balled up as she gritted her teeth. As she reached for her weapons she was stopped only by the quick hand of the Admiral and the whisper in her ear.

"The Lioness sometimes bides her time, even when the prey is in sight."

Words she had heard before - a phrase uttered often during her training in the Sin'Serrar.

Nobody in the fleet slept that night - whether it was their imagination or the very sounds of screaming bouncing off the waves from the countless civilians left behind. Despite that the harbor was far from sight, many could still see the faces of those they left - elderly, women, children... innocents.

Mirava wanted to weep over them and her sergeant, she tried to no avail - as much as they deserved such she felt nothing but the burning sensation of blood-lust. She needed to kill something, end their life.

Her whole life she killed at the orders of the others, for the king, for Quel'Thalas. Never had she wanted to take the life for the sheer pleasure of ending him. She needed to remove that emotion, she was a professional soldier. Even when she was sent to kill, the sin'serrar trained its recruits to become living weapons - cold, lethal, effective.. there was no room for emotion.

A knock on the cabin door startled her. She made herself presentable and answered the door. On the other side was the Admiral that without a word entered with a package in hand he placed upon her bed.

Without looking at her he spoke. "The count requests your presence in the Captain's quarters - he wishes to discuss matters regarding your house. He also requests you wear this."

"You can tell him I decline - I need my rest." Mirava said as she crossed her arms under her bust.

"At least try on the dress." He said before walking out.

Mirava let out a sigh as she sat on her bed. She hung her head for a moment, the ebon locks falling down in front of her face. The dark shroud blocked her from the reality of the past few days. Perhaps this is a dream she thought. Siran will be cuddling up to her and Raiev would be rousing her from her sleep with a kiss.

The rocking of the boat broke the illusion. The reality was horrible, she had not heard of her husband's or son's whereabouts. The worst is what she feared.

On her bed-stand was a bottle of rum, something she never partook in. Wine was a staple in her life, the source of her father's life - something she knew would never be the same.

With a sip she allowed the sting of the rum to hit her throat, followed swiftly by another. It wasn't enough to stop the images of war but it was enough to take the edge off.

With that she opened up the package: a small form fitting black dress with slits along the thighs and an exposed back. It really was nothing more then what a rich courtesan would wear. But to her surprise was another object; a dagger, slender and ornate with script that read. "A lord's people are his to have but also protect - should he fail to uphold his duty, his life is forfeit." Words from the first king when he established the noble houses.

Mirava would be going to dinner after all.

The evening dinner was laid out in the Captain's quarters, an arrangement of exotic fruits, side dishes prominent to all sides of the known world with the main dish being a succulent roast duck rubbed with herbs and spices that filled the room with it's aroma. Vynlarion Highcrest the IV stood as Mirava entered the room in her dress, the admiral of the fleet doing the same and pulling a chair for Mirava to sit at the table.

As Mirava sat Vynlarion and the Admiral did as well. For a moment the three of them sat in silence as a server filled their goblets with a rich red wine before bowing his head and leaving the room.

"Hm, at least these cooks know to serve red wine with duck.." Vynlarion said as he let the wine breath for a moment before taking a sip. "Del'Var Wine, plucked from the vineyards near Sel'Belore.. these might be rare to come by in a few years. It's why I bought the rest of the stock before we left."

"Two ley-lines intersect my family vineyard, it gives the grapes a small magical property." Mirava said simply as she fiddled with a plum.

"Indeed, your family knows it's wine Captain. They also know many things, too many things." He said bluntly, staring across the table at Mirava. "I know who you are Lady Darkfyre... or should I said Sin'Serrar Darkfyre."

Mirava tried to feign not being surprised as she ate the plum, "Many nobles families have their secrets M'lord, it matters not. The Sin'Serrar are loyal to the crown."

Vynlarion smiled, "That they are... do you know that the sunstriders are likely to be dead? If that's the case, there are only a few noble families that can take the charge, mainly my own. Although your family is distantly related to sunstriders, I do not believe anyone would support a Del'var on the throne."

Mirava looked up from her food at Vynlarion, "There is a proposal in this I take it?" She asked bluntly.

The lord nodded as he took into his mouth a plum himself, "Hm delicious.." He spoke with admiration, "Yes, my nephew is a widower. He has been for many years. It is time he remarried someone of noble stock to produce more offspring, perhaps more suiting then the Arch-Magus that he once married. Highborne stock, more suiting to the throne. You."

She cast her eyes down for a moment looking to the Admiral for a moment. The man spoke nothing, remaining silent as he ate portions of the roast duck.

"I am married." Mirava said, giving Vynlarion a dangerous look.

"To a commoner, a hawkstrider breeder." Vynlarion said pointing at Mirava with a fork full of duck, "And for all we know is already dead from that cataclysmic event that has befallen our people. This marriage would elevate both you and my nephew to that of royalty, and your offspring could very well sit on the throne one day. You cannot comprehend the gift I am giving you. -We- must secure our future, and our houses shall lead our people. I will also make sure this bothersome rumor that you sleep with women on the side is quashed, I will not have such behavior spoken among the plebes."

Mirava looked down for a moment, she could feel the knife on her leg but there was a moment she considered the weight of the lord's words. And it left her, she remember it was this man that let innocents die for his "precious cargo." He did not have the welfare of the people in mind, he had the welfare of his house in mind. "I need air." She spoke out-loud, "To Consider this."

Vynlarion nodded, "Of course, you are excused... think on this Lady Del'Var."

As Mirava left she walked out to the deck, leaning against the railing of the aft port of the ship as she looked out to the half crescent moon.

It wasn't long before Vynlarion joined her, a goblet of wine in hand as he took several sips before approaching her. A hand found it's way of the parted side opening of her thigh as he smirked. "You maybe scarred from the wars but you are beautiful in your own ways m'lady. My nephew will be pleased... and he maybe much older then you but he is sculpted like a statue meant to survive the ages."

Mirava looked to Vynlarion, "Why did you let those people die?" She asked bluntly.

Vynlarion let out a hearty laugh, "Because.. they were the weak element, as inconvenient as this invasion was. It leaves us strong with the opportunity to rebuild Quel'thalas... in a better, stronger image then before. The one Dath'Remar dreamed of." He said as he gestured to the coastline, "One that will stretch farther and command even the lesser races under our command. We will take our rightful place."

"So you'd let them die, because they are weak?" Mirava asked.

"Of course, only the strong must survive."

He shifted his hand up, caressing her behind as he hiked her dress up. "If my nephew is incapable, I will do the honors myself."

Mirava turned leaning her back against the railing as she grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. "Why not tonight m'lord?" She asked.

"My my, you are eager... and in control. You'll make a proper queen one day." He said as he leaned in to kiss her, pressing his form against her as she could smell the stench of the wine on his breath as it blew into her mouth.

Her right hand would caress his ribs, moving down with light feather touches. In the ruse she had unsheathed the hidden blade at her thigh, holding it tightly in her left hand. Her hand would then move down, to the crotch, caressing and arousing the man to a point where it was visible in his trousers.

It was then that she struck, the blade impaling into his manhood and twisting, the blood flowing down his pants in a heavy flow from the aroused manhood.

Before he could react she twisted her free arm about the rope on the railing before grabbing the man by his shirt, pulling him back and flipping him overboard. As he fell into the water she looked overboard, flinging the bloodied knife over as well. The lord would look at her, in shock still as Mirava pointed towards fins in the water. "Sharks... they smell the weakness of blood flowing out of you. You're right m'lord... the weak element must die."

As the sharks descended upon the lord, the man fought to escape, trying to swim back to the boat to no avail. The sharks moved towards him, clustered like a wolf pack before their jaws snapped at the man's flesh, tearing limb from limb as the man screamed for help before his voice was muffled as the sharks pulled him underwater.

Mirava had scrubbed the small amount of blood on open thigh with a sponge used for cleaning the deck and tossed it overboard before she collapsed on the ground, hugging herself and crying out loud in a shriek. The deck crew, which had been instructed to give Mirava and Vynlarion their privacy rushed to the deck as Mirava pointed to the aft port.

"Lord Highcrest has fallen overboard! Quickly! Get to him!" A lieutenant screamed before he was cut off by the admiral.

"Belay that.." The admiral spoke as he looked overboard, at the crimson waters. "He's dead already...I told him not to drink so much, by the gods...we could of used him in rebuilding Quel'Thalas." He would then look to Mirava, "Lady Darkfyre, return to your quarters... and get a hold of yourself, you are a Ranger-Captain, not a squabbling child."

Mirava would nod as she sniffed, hurrying down below deck. Her demeanor would change as she was alone, a twisted grin etching her features. "That was for you sergeant." She whispered as she laid down and rested peacefully in her bed.