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The Song of the Naaru (Story in Progress)
#1
The hour was late as the two moons sailed across the sky of Quel'thelas. The shadows deepened on Murder Row, as a figure quietly walked through the streets. Halting briefly at the court of the Sun, the figure knelt and bowed in the direction of Sunfury Spire before continuing on toward the Temple of the Blood Knights. Making her way down, the figure was saluted by adepts before being to its allotted duties.

Stepping silently toward the Naaru, Lacryma glanced around casting her hood back. Even the high Magistrix had retired for the evening. It was merely the captive Naaru and her. Stretching slightly the Blood Knight pulled her hood back and looked at the gleaming being with a mix of feelings. Hatred for the Scourge, anger for what she percieved as the Light, and curiousity on the nature of the being they had been sent by Kael'thas. Perhaps mingled in there was some of the old Quel-dorei thoughts. The way of the Ranger did indeed die hard.

Considerations that M'uru was a slave, and that perhaps what was done was wrong came to mind as she paced and walked the room over the course of a few hours. But then again the entire situation that her people were in was wrong in her mind. The self righteous Paladins, the zeal that led to persecution in the Alliance, a plethora of things. Only the Blue Flight had truly cared, she thought, re-invisioning the mark on her sister. They wanted to rekindle the Sunwell, a thought of worth to her mind.

Drifting to memory the former Alliance Warlock recalled her studies as she gently touched the Naaru's energy and drew more out. The words of Daio came to mind of all things. "What Price..?" She had asked when she had began what then was considered her masterwork, the binding of a Doomguard.

"That will be the choice of the demon you choose to enslave. We pay grossly for our powers and their use."

It was a game in the end Lacryma decided. A game of dominance. The dominant ones gained the fruits of their labor, the weak were always trampled. One glaring omission however continued to plague the Blood Knight as she turned away. M'uru was certainly not weak. She ventured to Shattrath in her traveling guise of Norandu, the Warlock. Khadgar himself had stated that the Naaru, particularly A'dal were easily strong enough to level a city. Perhaps stronger than even Medivh had been. And now the six Magisters were not even in spell casting and the wards of the City were supposed to keep this... being of pure energy ensorcelled..?

Cocking her ear Lacryma thought briefly that faintly behind the cacophony of chimes that radiated from the Naaru, a echo.. or a song of some sort could be heard. Yet the more she attempted to hear the song, the louder the cacophony rose against her, making listening all but impossible.

Shaking her head she withdrew into her own fancies. Her people would be strong again, her people mastered the Light, and had done so through their own power. The acquisition of this power for the defense of Silvermoon was a just demand after all that had occured.

Turning on that note, Lacryma drew her hood up again and began her old retinue from the days before the Scourge, the scouting of Eversong. It would be a long night, but for the Sindorei.. one person's toil was a civilization's gain.
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