12-21-2008, 01:14 PM
((I purposely skipped the moot because I was unsure of some of the events since I had not yet experienced them. I had guessed correctly at the time but I have now experienced the events themselves. Alfin and I had discussed new direction, to breathe new life into both characters. As with many, we will be using these events to begin to do some rebuilding of the characters. More to come in coming days ...))
Saerrina stood and watched, as instructed, as the horde forces joined the alliance in the battle toward a common goal. A rumbling behind her should have been warning but she was unceremoniously shoved away from her vantage point. She recovered herself and stepped down the hill a bit, looking over onto the field of battle once more. She could only stand in horror as the very apothecaries she had helped, thinking they were seeking a cure, wrought devastation on the forces below. Horde, alliance, and Scourge alike fell beneath this ânew plagueâ as the Forsaken reveled in their triumph.
Frozen to the spot, Saerrina continued to watch as Alexstrasza and her dragonflight cleansed the area. In a fog, she wandered down to the majestic dragons, her steps faltering and stumbling along the path. She heard the words and at some level absorbed the instructions given her but could not seem to rid herself of the numbing guilt that was settling deep within her spirit. A gifted healer, the reason for her choosing at such a young age to begin her training, yet now she had helped wreak such total devastation! She simply could not grasp how this had come to be.
As if she were some goblin-crafted automaton, Saerrina followed instructions as they were given. Warsong Hold, Orgrimmar, even throughout the entire battle for the Undercity. She heard the words spoken, performed her duties as assigned, but nothing more. She simply could not get past her part in the deaths of so many good men and women. As she returned to Northrend, as instructed yet again, numbness settled over her heart and mind. The shock had wrought physical changes as well; she ignored these and over the ensuing days became more and more unkempt, hair shocked white and whacked off in her grief, walking about in a deep fog.
In some of her more lucid moments, little though they were, she would wonder where her friends had been during these events. And one in particular, why he had not been there to stop her from doing such foolish things? He always had before. In the jumble of her confused thoughts, an anger over what she perceived his absence and failure began to develop. As angry with him as she was with herself, the emotions seethed within her, just waiting to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Saerrina's only solace, her salvation from insanity, seemed to be the methodical and almost mindless application of her healing skills to the injured. Her duties set aside temporarily, she sought the injured to provide whatever assistance she could.
Saerrina stood and watched, as instructed, as the horde forces joined the alliance in the battle toward a common goal. A rumbling behind her should have been warning but she was unceremoniously shoved away from her vantage point. She recovered herself and stepped down the hill a bit, looking over onto the field of battle once more. She could only stand in horror as the very apothecaries she had helped, thinking they were seeking a cure, wrought devastation on the forces below. Horde, alliance, and Scourge alike fell beneath this ânew plagueâ as the Forsaken reveled in their triumph.
Frozen to the spot, Saerrina continued to watch as Alexstrasza and her dragonflight cleansed the area. In a fog, she wandered down to the majestic dragons, her steps faltering and stumbling along the path. She heard the words and at some level absorbed the instructions given her but could not seem to rid herself of the numbing guilt that was settling deep within her spirit. A gifted healer, the reason for her choosing at such a young age to begin her training, yet now she had helped wreak such total devastation! She simply could not grasp how this had come to be.
As if she were some goblin-crafted automaton, Saerrina followed instructions as they were given. Warsong Hold, Orgrimmar, even throughout the entire battle for the Undercity. She heard the words spoken, performed her duties as assigned, but nothing more. She simply could not get past her part in the deaths of so many good men and women. As she returned to Northrend, as instructed yet again, numbness settled over her heart and mind. The shock had wrought physical changes as well; she ignored these and over the ensuing days became more and more unkempt, hair shocked white and whacked off in her grief, walking about in a deep fog.
In some of her more lucid moments, little though they were, she would wonder where her friends had been during these events. And one in particular, why he had not been there to stop her from doing such foolish things? He always had before. In the jumble of her confused thoughts, an anger over what she perceived his absence and failure began to develop. As angry with him as she was with herself, the emotions seethed within her, just waiting to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Saerrina's only solace, her salvation from insanity, seemed to be the methodical and almost mindless application of her healing skills to the injured. Her duties set aside temporarily, she sought the injured to provide whatever assistance she could.