“Nothing wrong with reaching out.” Kaesiris said. “Lot to be gained by playing both sides. And as long as you are careful no one needs to get hurt.”
He grinned.
“Take me and me parents for instance. Ma and Pa have… opposing occupations. Last I heard they were chasing each other round and round the Cape of Stranglethorn. Which of course leaves me free to go off adventuring without hearing about I need to ‘take over the family business’ or ‘settle down and find a nice gal.’” He said.
Jaeho listened intently to the Mage as she spoke.
There was a part of him that wanted to offer advice. To suggest a solution. To act. Ji Firepaw had had the same motivation, and he had nearly destroyed their home.
Time had taught him that it was better to listen. Many times someone already knew the answer, they simply needed to reach it themselves.
He waited for the rogue to finish before nodding.
“Perhaps.” He said. “But not all situations lend themselves to such action. Please, tell me more about your late husband and his family.”
Cold air washed over those inside the Tavern as the door opened and a massive figure stepped inside.
The Tauren who entered was clad in plate armor bearing the insignia and design of the Honorbound, the Horde’s elite troops stationed at the front of the conflicts with the Alliance.
A massive shield hung on his back, almost as tall as he was, while a sword large enough to be a two handed for any smaller race sat at his side. These were gently leaned against the side of the table as he took a seat.
Laylla crouched down, back flat up against an outlying wall of granite, her breath coming in short gasps.
These trice-damned demons were giving her a run for her gold. Maybe she was starting to slow down. She wasn’t the young bladedancer she was 15 years ago. Maybe it was time to pack it in.
Sure; like that was going to happen.
A fleshbeast rounded the corner gurgling and hissing, its body making a disgusting squishing sound as it ambled toward her. Absentmindedly, she split it in half with a swing of her blades and moved out. The sun was setting and wandering around in the middle of a demon-infested valley in the dark was not the way she wanted to go out.
Just to the west and up a ridiculously long flight of steps (someone really liked working with stone!) was a tavern enveloped in a thick mist. It gave it an air of mystery and Laylla liked that, but that wasn’t why she had decided go there.
Aside from privacy and comfortable beds, it poured some of the best ale in Pandaria, and right now, Laylla could use a mug or four.
About an hour later Laylla stood at the top of the steps, her heart pounding as she tried to catch her breath. She could have ridden Nox, her raven, but she felt she had something to prove to herself. Now, of course she realized the folly of her stubbornness.
She entered the small tavern and, out of sheer habit, studied its inhabitants. Aside from some Night Elves, a couple of Blood Elves and some Pandarens, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was still adjusting to peacefully sharing a room with anyone of the horde faction, however.
She nodded at Tong, asking for an ale before dropping into a seat in a quiet corner with her back to the wall and continued studying the patrons.
Her green eyes landed on a human clothed in rather colorful blue and gold leather speaking to a Pandaren about blood and water and forging bonds. The way he carried himself told Laylla he was in the rogue business, although she had never seen him about the Headquarters of SI:7. Maybe he was in business for himself.
She sat back, sipping her ale and listening to whatever interesting things that might further be spoken of this evening.
Kaesiris saw the woman enter the tavern. Finally someone interesting.
He made his excuses and left the Pandaren to help the Mage sort out whatever problem she was having.
He slid onto the bench across the table from the newcomer, his most charming smile on his face.
“You look like you’ve got a story or two.” He said.
(Sorry for the late response, my sleeping pattern is off from having a chest cold.)
Kalinda nodded slightly at the human male, as she considered his words, before turning her attention to the pandaren, as he spoke to her and the human man turned his attention to someone else. Her owl Varia puffed up the feathers on her chest, and let out a high-pitched “Uhoo!”, before jumping back slightly on the table, in response to the mage stroking her clawed feet.
When the pandaren asked to know about her late husband and his still living family members, she chewed on the inside of her cheek in thought. Though a few members of his family have either rejoined the Alliance or declared themselves neutral, there were others to partook in the very recent war, in response to her mother-in-law’s death caused by her father’s grudge toward her. However, since things have deescalated; her husband’s family seems to have excepted the death, though still pinned their hatred on her estranged father, than even she distrusted.
She let out a deep breath, as she began to speak about her late husband and his family. “I met my late husband in Dalaran, a few years after the Third War, when I was still in basic training. He was a ranger like his parents, and a minor noble like my family as well. He was always more of a calm, and rational man, while I was young, stubborn, and persistent with my studies, enough to where I would train until I would collapse from exhaustion. He assisted me and my mentor, his uncle, with my training and he and I became lose during the years that followed, further installing that persistence to keep up with his uncle’s skill level. After the fall of Quel’thalas during the Third War, he declared himself neutral and followed the path of his fallen prince for a time, before taking on the position of a Scryer, and I didn’t see him again until the campaign in Outland years ago. We managed to get married after the campaign in Sunwell Plateau, and I became with-child with male and female twins a few months after. However, I didn’t lose Kaldrian, until after the recent conflict in Silthus, while he was fighting a fragmented group of Twilight Cultists, and was mistaken for being a member of the Horde.” She explained, letting out a slow breath and toying with the rune-engraved steel choker around her neck before she continued.
“As for my mentor, he was my late husband’s great uncle. Considering my parents have kept to themselves over the years, with my mother choosing to stay behind the wall, and my father assisting the army in Lorderon during the Third War; he acted more like a father figure to me, over the years that he trained me.” She smiled wearily, as she explained this. Though she knew well he wouldn’t go easy on her children with their training; knowing that they would have to train at their full potential, if they wished to prove themselves worthy of having a chance at gaining their inheritance, which was expected of half-breeds.
“His mother on the other hand, was standing on a fine line between respect and distain with me, given that I was married to her eldest son, and my father used to be close to her before the Third War, until he betrayed her after discovering that her people received help from Illidan’s naga followers. As for his sisters; one is still loyal to the Horde, but chose not to get fully involved with the recent war, while the other chose to become a void elf and rejoin the Alliance. His younger brother is still a high elf, and courting a good friend of mine from Stormwind, that began training along side me during the campaign in Draenor a few years ago.” She finished, attempting to pick her owl up from the table, as she was now attempting to pick at the edge of the table with her beak out of boredom.
The creature let out a soft screech as the mage slipped her hand under her, before reluctantly stepping onto her arm and climbing onto the sorceress’s shoulder. Her feathers were fully puffed out, and her ear tufts were raised, as she peered around the room.
Jaheo nodded as he listened.
“I can certainly see why you are concerned. It seems your husband’s family suffers from the same divisions that plague the Alliance and Horde.”
He scratched his chin.
“Indulge me, if you would. Tell me of your side of the family. Your mother stayed in Gilneas. And your father fought in Lordaeron.” He said. “My knowledge of those lands is… fragmented. The few travelers I have met tell tales rife with tragedy and loss.”
Kalinda nodded slightly, as she looked up at him. “Yes, my parent’s marriage was arranged, and their stark differences eventually led them to loathe each other, and seek out other people instead after I was born. My mother Thea Whitethorn had always been expected to keep up appearances, which eventually led her to become vain, insecure, and often envious of others. She had also managed to push expectations that she had been given on me as well; by sending me to Dalaran at the age of six, in hopes of me becoming more powerful, and marrying another human mage to produce pure-blooded heirs. Of course…” She paused, as she tried to find the right words to phrase her next explanation.
“It seems that she may not be aware that some mages in Dalaran, have a tendency to lean towards other races when it comes to choosing a suitable mate.” She chuckled softly, before she continued. “It’s quite common in neutral factions that force those in it, to work with other races. We’re expected to learn their languages and their culture, to better connect with them and work with them.” She explained, before changing the subject to her father.
“As for my birth father Roderick Layton, he, like my mother; is a minor noble of Gilneas. However, after he and my mother parted ways before the construction of the wall around Gilneas which he opposed to; he joined the ranks in Lorderon to be of use to the Alliance, rather than spend his life trapped behind a wall for the rest of his life. From what my late mother-in-law has told me about my father; he had a pension for being brash, stubborn, and dangerous, after she and my father had a falling out in their partnership during the Third War, when her people left the Alliance. As far as I am aware, no one has heard of him much, until this recent war. As far as what my husband’s sister told me, he is a member of the Bloodfang pack of Silverpine Forest, which is now allied with my people. He broke the terms of the truce agreement I had with my husband’s family, during the recent conflict in Silithus that started this war in the first place, by killing my mother-in-law for defending herself from my uncle.” She explained, her hands slowly enclosing into fists underneath the table. Her nails began to change, taking on the appearance of claws, which dug into her palm deep enough to draw a small amount of blood. She inhaled sharply, when she realized what she had done, before forcing herself to calm down. After a moment her nails returned to normal, and she ignored the mild sting in her palms.
“Your concern certainly seems merited.” He said. “From what you have said it does not appear that your parents share your desire for peace.”
He sighed.
“I take it your mother did not react well when you told her if the truce.” He said.
Kalinda let out a heavy sigh, as she looked up at the pandaren. “In a way, yes. Though she was more upset that I didn’t agree to come back to the family, after my husband’s death. At the time, I couldn’t remain idle, while some where still trying to find a way to attend to our world’s wounds.” She sighed, as she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face.
As she spoke, she gently stroked Varia’s puffed up chest. The white female owl cooed softly and gently nipped at her hand, as the mage stroked her.
“It takes a great deal of strength to put the fate of the world before family, however unbalanced the scales may seem.” Jaeho said. “Too many are caught up in their own petty squabbles, obsessed only with the problems that lie within their own borders. Too many threats have almost gone unnoticed because of such.”
He sighed.
“Perhaps I am too harsh. Such is the fate of many who have learned their lesson the hard way.” He said.
Kalinda shrugged, as she looked up at the pandaren. “Well, I suppose one primary lesson I learned in Dalaran; is that being pragmatic, over following personal emotions tend to provide better results in the end. Though I can understand to a degree that they wish to rebuild, after the losses caused by this war, and the war with the Legion.”
She paused for a moment in thought, before she spoke up again. “I just hope they don’t rope me into my father’s cousin’s authority, now that he has taken place as patriarch of the family, considering my father has always butted heads with him from what I heard.”
Laylla’s eyes travelled up the length of the festively-dressed rogue. It was a fairly lengthy journey. She was somewhat petite, but he was not a short man by any means. She smiled inwardly: He was certainly not hard on the eyes either, loudly dressed or not. She came to the conclusion that his attire was a testament to his confidence. She felt his message said " Go ahead, see what happens. I dare you."
She was impressed.
She waved Tong over as the rogue smoothly lowered himself onto the bench across from her, ordering them both another round.
" I’d venture to say we both have some stories to share," she said, nursing her ale, “I think I have too many to tell, and, quite frankly, no one really to tell them to.” She thought back to her recent fight with N’Zoth’s minions. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this.”
She looked up and smiled. “in any case, the name is Darkmoore. Laylla Darkmoore and it is indeed a pleasure to meet one of my own. It’s been a while.”
Kaesiris examined the woman before him, sizing her up. His appraisal was more obvious, offset by his charming smile. Most stopped at the smile. Those of his profession, however, were trained to look at the eyes. And his, he knew from experience, betrayed the calculating nature of his gaze.
“Kaesiris.” He said, tipping his hat. “Just Kaesiris, no surname. Leastways none that that last fellow was able to share.”
She was clad in a simple outfit, one that most would not look twice at. Clever. He chuckled at her comment about age.
“Nonsense.” He said. “Why just the other day a fellow waylaid me in Boralus. Head as smooth a river stone, beard as white as snow. Almost go the drop on me. Might have had a fighting chance if he had.”
He cats a glance at her weapons. Daggers. No visible enchantments, and no distinctive sheen of poison. So either she was smart enough to hide them, or she was confident she would not need such. Interesting.
“Of course once you’re out in the open, nowhere to hide, an ambush loses its advantage.” He said. “And while he certainly put up a fight, he was no duelist. Take a certain sort to stand out in the open with nothing but your wits and your blades.”
He patted the handle of his gladius.
“Now those things out in the mist.” He said. “Those were a right old challenge. Would have stayed but it didn’t seem to make a dent in the numbers. Gotta know when to fold em, especially with drinks on the line.”
“The War with the Legion.” Jaeho said. His eyes took on a wistful look. “So many lost.”
He turned his mug absentmindedly.
“And the peace, so hard won, shattered so easily.” He continued. “Sometimes I wonder if we are doomed to repeat the past. If peace would have been achieved in the absence of a greater foe.”
He shook his head.
“Ahh but you have enough to worry about.” He said. “And the night is still young. Tell me, a Mage such as yourself must have seen their share of adventure. Certainly far more than these old paws have. You must have many fine stories to tell.”