A Real Drengr 6 (Patreon)

The group heading east towards Darrowshire consisted of myself, Seela, Xiulan, Mellia, Aryema, and a brown skinned orc who Mellia had greeted as Kehka. A paladin, mage, monk, demon hunter, and what was probably a shamaness, based on the clawed gloves she was wearing.

As soon as Jaina and the rest headed west, I turned to the group and bluntly said, “I know a safe place near Darrowshire we can rest and scout from. As well as a number of places to watch out for.”

The group looked at me with either surprise, relief, or suspicion. I couldn't blame them, regardless of whatever emotion they were feeling. I'd only met most of them on the voyage over, even if said voyage consisted of more sex than I'd had in ten years, and Kehka I hadn't even had a single conversation with.

Without waiting for a response, I led the way towards the safe spot I had mentioned. It was a small house protected by several wards and holy blessings. I'd stayed there, briefly, during my last trip through this part of Lordaeron, back when it was only just getting the name of the Plaguelands.

“Peter?” Mellia's voice pulled me from my melancholy, her dainty hand on my elbow. Seeing that she had my attention, she asked, “What's wrong?”

I met her blazing green eyes and told her, “I grew up in these parts. Darrowshire was where my mother and uncle were relocated to after they fled Alterac during the Second War.”

Mellia's expression softened as she listened to my story, “I'm sorry, Peter. That must have been tough.”

“It was,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was making my way back from Northrend when Darrowshire fell, I returned too late to do more than put down Jacob Redpath. But he apparently was risen as a death knight. And now, I'm here to put him down again.”

Conversation dropped off after that, as I led the group past several spots where the Scourge tended to congregate until we reached a hillside near Darrowshire. What I saw made me pull Truth from its scabbard on my back.

“Someone else is here, be on your guard,” I said as I approached.

“How can you tell?” Xiulan asked, even as spell glyphs formed around her hands.

I nodded my head towards the gravestones, more specifically the piles of weeds and dead vines next to them. There were two, both with a particular design that was nowhere near as common on Azeroth as it was on Earth.

“Lotharian graves?” Mellia asked quietly. “How have they not…”

“This place has more Light energy than I've sensed anywhere since being in the presence of a Naaru,” Seela answered, looking around.

“My mother and uncle's graves,” I said simply as I stalked towards the front door, only noticing the subtle alarm ward around the house as I walked through it.

I raised Truth in preparation, only for my eyes to widen and my jaw to drop as I saw who opened the door. She was young, in her teens, and clad in the armor of the Blood Knights of Quel’thalas, and her short hair a reddish blonde. There was only one thing that I could say as the two of us stared at each other.

“Salandria?” I asked as I stared at the blood elf I’d last seen as a little girl.

Salandria's eyes widened in surprise, and she stepped back slightly, “Peter?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Is it really you?”

I lowered my sword, my eyes never leaving her face. “Yes, it's me,” I replied softly. “But how… why are you here? I thought you were still in Quel'thalas.”

Salandria swallowed hard before stepping forward to embrace me. “I was afraid that I'd never see you again,” she murmured into my chest. “I thought you were dead.”

I hugged her back tightly, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “How did you end up here? And…” I hesitated, not sure if I should ask the next question. “And what are you doing with the Blood Knights?”

Salandria pulled away from me, “It's a long story, but I’m a trainee now,” she said, gesturing inwards.

I followed her inside, to see four other blood elves, each one of them in the uniform of the Blood Knights, sitting around the table. Two looked to be rangers while the others were clearly mages. I stared blankly at the four with Salandria for a moment, unable to believe what I was seeing yet equally unable to say a single word about it.

The rangers were both blondes, one male the other female. The rangers were both women, one with white hair and a deep tan, the other with blue hair and pale skin. I was looking at Legend of fucking Zelda expies. In my childhood home.

“Salandria, who is this?” the Link-lookalike asked in Thalassian.

“Peter Emile, the one who brought me to Quel’thalas nine years ago and our host,” Salandria shot back.

“I thought you looked familiar,” the female ranger said as she stood up from the table and walked over. She held out a hand to shake as she introduced herself, “Lyndine Lightrange, I was there the day you passed through Tranquilien with a young elven girl in the saddle with you.”

I stared at her, not returning the handshake, before I said, “Salandria being here is the only reason I’m not kicking you off my land. Be glad you’re with my little sister.”

Lyndine let her arm drop with a shrug, “No skin off my nose, we were just staying the night before heading back to report on the Scourge numbers swelling in Darrowshire. Not sure why, but Caerel over there thinks they’re being organized to attack one of the local Argent Dawn outposts.”

She pointed to the tanned blood elf, as Xiulan, Mellia, Aryema, Seela, and Kehka entered the house. Caerel stood up fron the table, her eyes locking onto the newcomers.

“Who are they?” she asked, her hand resting on her staff.

“They're invited guests,” I said, stepping between them and the Blood Knights. “We came here specifically to deal with the Scourge in Darrowshire.”

She eyed me suspiciously, but nodded her head. “Very well,” she said. “We could use all the help we can get.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, even as Mellia and Seela both were examining the multitude of holy symbols all over the walls. Crucifixes and a two pronged symbol resembling a bident. Xiulan easily ignored the tension and made her way into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of her robes while also pulling a wok out of her bag. Aryema simply made her way to a corner and sat down on the floor, while Kehka pulled out several lengths of cloth and a few pouches of herbs and the like.

“Oh by the Sunwell, stop antagonizing them Caerel,” Lyndine groused before turning back to me. “Why don't we have a seat at the table and we can go over a plan of attack on Darrowshire? Sound good?”

“Fine,” I said after a moment, following her and Salandria to the table.

I briefly ran my fingers over it, even with gauntlets keeping me from feeling it, I could still remember the patterns and designs carved into it. The crude carvings of wolves, bears, trees, dragons, and other fantastical scenes borne from a child's imagination. I sat down in my uncle's chair, practically feeling the weight of his hands on my shoulders as I looked over a map of the surrounding region.

“What sort of numbers are the Scourge boasting?” I asked.

“A few hundred of the basic shamblers and ghouls,” Salandria said. “They're not the problem. The issue's going to be Redpath and the two liches.”

“Two liches?” I asked, incredulously. “What are they doing all the way out here?”

“We don't know,” Caerel answered. “We were attempting to devise a plan to deal with them, when your lot showed up.”

I studied the map carefully, tracing my finger over the rough topography of the area. “We'll need to split into teams,” I said, looking up at the others. “One to deal with the liches and the other to take out Redpath.”

“I'll take the liches,” Seela volunteered, her eyes narrowing with determination.

"I'll go with her," Mellia said, nodding her agreement.

"I'll take the team to deal with Redpath," I said firmly. "We need to move fast and hit them hard."

The Blood Knights looked at me with a mixture of surprise and admiration, and I could feel the weight of Salandria's gaze on me. I knew that I was taking a big risk by trusting them, but I had no other choice. The Scourge were a threat to all of us, and we needed to work together to stop them.

"Alright then," I said, standing up from the table. "Let's get some rest, then set out in the morning."

It was at that time that Xiulan came out of the kitchen with several bowls of some kind of stew stacked on her arms. The meal was dug into with relish, and as I looked everyone over, I began to feel a sense of camaraderie with them. We were all fighting for the same cause, after all. And Salandria...seeing her again after so many years made me realize just how much I had missed her.

As the night wore on, we finalized our plan and made our preparations. Kehka was mixing together a concoction to weaken the undead, while Xiulan was chopping vegetables and seasoning meat for a pre-battle meal. Mellia and Seela were examining the wards around the house, reinforcing them where necessary.

And I… I found myself sitting outside on the porch, staring up at the full moon, clouded as it was by the haze and smog from the Plague. It wasn't long before I felt the familiar warmth of someone's presence behind me, and turned to find Salandria leaning against the railing beside me.

“You seem troubled,” she observed.

“Just thinking about what might happen tomorrow,” I admitted.

“There's nothing to worry about,” she assured me.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and leaned closer, pressing a kiss onto my cheek. My breath caught in my throat and I reached up, threading my hand through her hair. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against mine, and I shivered under the sensation of her touch.

“Salandria?” I asked, more than a little surprised.

“Yes, Peter?” she asked, her voice husky as she sat on my lap. It was obvious that she was trying to be seductive, but it was equally obvious that she had little to no idea of how to do so.

Gently taking hold of her hands, I bumped her forehead with my own, gazing into her green eyes. They burned with passion, longing, and what was unmistakable nervousness.

“Is this something you want, or something you feel you should want because of what I did those years ago?” I asked her, trying to convey the root of my question into the words.

Salandria and I had bonded those years ago, when I found her on the northern shores of Tirisfal. I’d just made landfall and was scrambling through a burned out wreck of a fishing village, when I saw her sitting in front of a charred and smoldering house, a small dragon toy hanging limply in her hands. I was desperate to reach home, half mad from weeks of isolation and cabin fever, and severely dehydrated. I feel no shame in admitting that if I hadn’t stumbled across her, I probably would have died before I even reached the ruins of the capital.

Instead, I gathered her up in my arms and took her with me. Looking out for her made me be more careful, made me actually take care of myself in order to set an example for her. The need to ensure she was safe and okay gave me something to focus on other than my fears and, once I’d reached Darrowshire, my grief and guilt.

“I still have them,” she said after a moment, pulling me from my thoughts.

She looked down, breaking our eye contact as she reached into her pouch. My throat closed up, seeing the crudely stitched yet lovingly maintained stuffed animals that she pulled out of the bag. Four cats: a cougar made from blue fabric, a tiger whose stripes were made from different pieces of cloth, a lion with a mane made from multiple strips of red linen, and a leopard whose spots were almost entirely broken buttons. Four stuffed animals that I’d stitched together as we traveled through the Scourge infested Lordaeron.

Wordlessly, I reached into my own bag, pulling out a small wooden toy. It was simple, the sort of thing that a farmer or a fisherman would carve to relax, but it was still something that I would move Heaven and Earth to keep safe. A crude wooden dragon. We both stared at the hilariously cheap looking toys between us, toys that were priceless in what they meant to us.

Finally, Salandria looked back up at me, “I want this, Peter. I want you.”

With that, she leaned in, pressing her lips against mine in a gentle, loving kiss. As much as I wanted to discuss the matter further, I knew that right now, this wasn't the time for such things. Not until the battle was over. So instead, I stood, holding her close against me, and gently led her inside.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll talk after the battle tomorrow. For now, let’s get some sleep,” I said, guiding her upstairs.

“I’ve waited years, I can wait a little bit longer,” she said with a small smile.

“Sleep well,” I told her, gently kissing the top of her forehead before entering the bedroom and closing the door behind me.

I could tell that she was disappointed, but there was a complicated bundle of emotions I needed to sort through before I could even begin considering reciprocating how she felt. I sat on the bed running my hands through my hair. Fuck, she was the closest thing I’d ever had to a daughter, and she was the only family of any kind that I had left. I still had friends, but Salandria was the only one I’d met I’d call family.

When the hell had my life become a harem comedy? On top of so many women deciding to bed me, now I had a pseudo-daughter figure wanting to take things to a new, non-familial level. It was so confusing, and the thought of even entertaining romantic feelings for Salandria sent a surge of guilt through me.

But despite all of that, I couldn’t deny that she’d grown into a beautiful young woman. More than that, she’d clearly excelled in the training with the Blood Knights, if she was part of a patrol this deep into the Plaguelands despite her youth. She was clearly strong and intelligent, even ignoring the strength of spirit she had, having recovered amazingly well despite what she’d lived through before I found her.

As I lay in bed, thoughts and emotions roiling and churning in my head, all I knew for sure was that the battle was going to make or break everything. Not just a hypothetical relationship between Salandria and I, but everything going on with Jaina and dealing with Varimathras. No matter what happened, I’d do everything I could to keep Salandria safe. More than that, I needed something else to focus on, once the immediate mess was dealt with.

My mind drifted to an idle idea I’d had over the years. Alterac, my mother and uncle’s home. Even so long after the end of the Second War, it was still a bed of thieves and skirmishes between the Alliance and the Horde. My gaze drifted over to my armor, the gilded designs of mountain lions decorating it a reminder of my heritage. The people of Alterac had spent decades living in constant fear of some foreign power attacking or getting in the crossfire of two world powers’ squabbling. They deserve better. My eyes narrowed. They would get better, even if I had to kick out the Horde and Alliance myself.