(2023-06-28) Looking for a Path into the Argent Crusade

Details

Author:	Alli
Summary:	Kitharian introduces her friend Aszera to Vond and later Etone, to see if they might let her join the Argent Crusade. ~4700 words.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

In the upper east of Dragonblight, north of Wintergarde, the once-thriving attendant town and farmland was hedged by a flurry of fevered Onslaught construction by a disconnected force of Scarlets that had leeched in like moss on damp in response to the arrival of Naxxramas. While Wintergarde worked to get a reign on the inside, it seemed the newcomers were positioning themselves to contain them like a threat, in spite of - or perhaps on account of - recent shakeup of leadership.

Further north than that lay Light's Trust, a hurriedly established Argent Crusade camp on the side of what was once a wide and mighty stonepaved thoroughfare leading out of the Drakkari Empire, and now cut off from direct access to Wintergarde. This was once the small base of operations for a handful of scouts, translators and negotiators who were in ongoing discussions with dignitaries of Jintha'kalar, the city that surrounded the largest gate into Zul'drak.

Great buildings wrought of stone in the Drakkari mode lined both sides of the stairway, in size and scope that would make Gurubashi blush and Amani claim excess. The size of individual blocks alone boasted of the empire's power to compel trolls to colossal labors, all of the masonry ornate and monumental, thick with the expectation to last for centuries and beyond.

When Jintha'kalar reported losing all contact with the heart of the empire, it was not long before the anticipated trouble spilled out of the border and into their hands. The bulk of the city is now a crumbling ruin thick with Scourge that have been repelled from the main passage, necromancers seeking shelter with remaining Drakkari captives. For while the small number of Argents who once stood by could not prevent the city from being overrun by the appearance of a necropolis overhead and an overpowering swarm of the undead, now the bulk of the Crusade's forces are mustering in earnest.

In a matter of days, from across Grizzly Hills, Dragonblight, and further, the call had been answered. Negotiating a way into Zul'drak was no longer an option, and without a swift response, the torrent of Scourge would only intensify. The tiny camp now took rows of tents in the hundreds. Broken troll masonry lines a ramshackle dugout chapel, forming a small consecrated site that could accommodate rites and services. In the distance at the grand stair, the encroaching necropolis is visible overhead.

A stranger approaches the camp, pausing at the outskirts as if waiting for someone. The slim figure of a woman in leather armor is obscured by a dark cloak, the hood pulled low over her face. Her sharp, impatient movements speak more of anxiety than menace.

Riding the perimeter is one lone paladin. Ok, no, there are many paladins but only one is actively searching for someone. Kitharian du Lac spots a hooded and cloaked figure and nudges her charger, the aptly named Ferocity, toward it. Her. Aszera. Or at least she hopes that's who it is, because otherwise she's going to look mighty stupid. At least she told the others she was waiting for someone or, despite Aszera's best efforts, the welcome might not have been warm.

Kit makes sure her helmet is off as she trots across the snow. "Aze?" she asks, swinging a leg over Ferocity's neck and sliding to the ground. Caution insists she put a hand to a weapon and she obeys, but her smile is welcoming so clearly she and Caution are barely on speaking terms.

Aszera turns at the sound of her name, her own hands drifting past her sword hilts in a gesture more automatic than threatening. She relaxes, dropping her hands, as she recognizes the voice, but she doesn't push back the hood.

"Yeah, it's me, as promised," Aze says, turning toward the paladin and charger. "I didn't bring a horse. Hope it's not required."

"Nah," Kit says, walking to Aze. Behind her, the charger vanishes into a wash of golden light. "You ready for this? I don't know how they're going to react, though I can promise no one will kill you while you're with me." She pauses. "I'll do my best to keep them from taking you captive. I don't think that's likely, mind you, but it's somewhere on the spectrum of All Possible Reactions."

"I'm good at making exits, if I need to," Aze says, taking a breath. "But they're neutral, right? I heard they take Forsaken. And Trolls. I'm not a fucking Troll, at least, so… yeah, I'm ready."

Kit nods. "They're more interested in hearts and souls than in skins," she says. "Most of them, anyway. Hood back, please. It'll look less suspicious." She gestures toward the camp and starts walking. "I took note of where Brother Vond and the Confessor are. They're our best place to start, I think. If the Confessor is easy with you, no one else will question it. I thought you'd like to meet Brother Sevastyn, too. He was my first mentor in the field. Me, Colson, and Fionette."

Aze hesitates, then pulls back her hood and follows. Her dark hair is loose over her usual tightly-bound black blindfold. "Vond, Confessor, Sevastyn…" she repeats. "Oh, Colson? I've met him. I think we're friends. His husband Mordecai definitely is, anyway. Think I'll get points for that, with this other guy?"

Kit leads her directly through the rows of tents, ignoring the politely curious gazes as she ignores those who ignore them. Ignore now looks weird. "I slept in your tent and I don't get called a friend?" Kit says. "I'm hurt. You get points for being with me, if I can be arrogant about that for a minute. Still, no, it won't hurt that Colson and Mordecai know you and like you. Ah, there they are." She lifts a hand to catch attention.

"What? Yeah, of course, you. You're here. I just meant, anything that can nudge them more from 'capture' to 'recruit' is a bonus, right?" Aze falls silent, standing by Kit's side.

By now, lookouts at the edge of the very enlarged Light's Trust encampment have spotted Kitharian and her charger, familiar to many of them. A few murmurs pass from one Crusader to another, primarily those on watch most afflicted with the monotony. Beyond them, the sound of persistent hammering rings from a series of small hastily-built forges pushing repairs to weapons and armor at constant capacity. Some loose clusters of figures have gathered in solemn reading and meditations, while others answer to the demands and inspection of presumably officers, though rankings seem indistinct from outward appearances.

When they move in, heads begin to turn, some acknowledging Kit with nods or blessings, some giving questioning looks to the stranger. Word seems to have passed down the line enough to alert one Vond Satterly, who, not far from Confessor Greennote's tent, begins to approach on foot at a quick rate, lightened by being geared down to a thick arming doublet. He is unsmiling, a particularly tense punctuation in the Trust's tense sentence, eyes wide with a sort of unvarnished ancitipatory energy tempered only modestly by a welcome familiar face.

"Du Lac," he recognizes, visibly in the snowy chill. "You may have enough time for a breather. Who's this?" His attention swivels to the smallish hooded figure. His brow almost immediately furrows with a sort of (increased) concern.

"Aszera Sunstrike, friend to Kit du Lac," Aze says brightly, sketching a quick bow.

"I'm hoping the Confessor has time to meet her," Kit adds. "I'm hoping she'll find she likes us enough to join us, and that we'll accept a new ally."

Vond tilts his head just slightly, eyes flitting rapidly aside to Kit, searching. Is there something wrong here? The glance certainly seems to ask, with an eye to there certainly being something wrong, or at least more wrong than usual.

"The Confessor is pretty fully occupied at present, but if you're looking to come with us time shouldn't be a concern, right? We have others more directly involved in recruiting, though. Should I point you to one of them? Or—"

The glance sweeps from one to the other and back again several times while the worry lines worry themselves deeper, and he finally asks, "Do you require assistance with something?" He makes an effort to ask considerately, but is not gracious enough to conceal that he suspects some form of affliction.

"I'm as fine as I ever am," Aze says with a shrug, and then seems to remember what people usually notice. "The eyes, right? Yeah, that's too late - they're beyond saving. But I can still fight. I can demonstrate, if you don't believe me."

"I was wondering about the eyes myself," Kit says. OMG Kit, you can't just ask someone why they have no eyes! Maybe she waited on purpose. "You said once that you and your sister were a good team. Were you a paladin as well?"

Vond's stare takes on the character of a direct entreaty to Kit, eyeing her from a quarterturned face. Am I losing it here? It seems to ask, with a potential expectation of an affirmative. There is something amiss, right?

"Pray pardon, I just—" he starts, ostensibly to Aze, while still focusing on Kit with a wordless plea for answers. "Am I getting some kind of false positive? That happens sometimes. It just feels like you've got some kinda…" He traces an indistinct air circle with one hand. "D'you want to speak in the Confessor's tent? It's empty."

"Uh, sure, yeah… I came here to talk, I guess, so… but me, a paladin?" Aze gives a brief huff of a laugh. "That was never really my thing. Anyway, she and I… that was back before she was a blood knight, too. We were soldiers together, during the Third War. A little before, too, but I didn't really get into the military till after the Second." I'm a veteran, isn't that noble? says her expression as she follows the two of them toward the empty tent.

Kit walks toward the tent as well. Her eyes may have taken on a hint of a sparkle at poor Vond's plea-look. "False positive?" she asks.

Confessor Greennote's tent is sizy, with small sitting mats and a short table between, enough room to receive visitors. A corner hosts a messy pile of sleeping roll and miscellaneous clothing looking shoved out of the way in a hurry, strewn with candles and topped with a rough stave bearing a sunburst motif, semi concealed with a skewed screen. Vond takes to a seat after meticulously brushing his boots and entering.

"Be plain with me," he glances between the two, the words more of an appeal than a demand. "Have you had an encounter with something, mn, unpleasant as late? Something that would leave some kind of fel residue?" He taps the edges of his palms to the table, opening them outward. "Maybe picked up some kinda article with a latent hex? It don't feel like Scourgeflesh." You know, the kind that goops all over your armor until you burn it out.

"'Less you're to tell me I've got my nerves twisted up enough to start smellin' phantom fel, 's what I mean by a false positive."

Aze moves to one of the sitting mats and sits back on her heels as he talks. There's a flicker of indecision in her expression as she considers her answer. Maybe she's thinking of going with 'phantom fel' - that sounds harmless enough.

Finally, she shakes her head, and says to both of them, "Alright, sure, an encounter with something unpleasant, a while back. If you already noticed, Brother Vond, I guess there's no point in my hiding it. But I've got everything under control. There's nothing to worry about."

Gently, Kit says, "It's all right, Aszera. But you should tell us everything. If you want to wait for the Confessor, you can, but Brother Vond may not feel comfortable introducing you until he knows what it is you have under control. I don't know either, and I trusted you enough to bring you here and to vouch for you."

Vond looks moderately relieved that he wasn't imagining things. Of course, with the confirmation that his instincts were calibrated, now there is an additional unknown something to renew fretting about.

"Miss Sunstrike—Azsera," he tries, hoping to land on something permissible, "from the sound of what you're drivin' at it seems like something you're not expecting to have cleansed, and that alone is… well it warrants a touch of clarification, I'd imagine. If I can sense it, I'm sure others 'round here can, and you're looking to join the cause, aye?"

"I am, and I think it's my intent that should matter, not whatever the fu- whatever else," Aze says, gesturing to her own chest. "But yeah, it's not something that can be cleansed. I'm not sure if it's worth going into the whole sordid history, but… you can trust me, Kit. You weren't wrong about that. And you, Brother Vond. I'm in control, and I'll stay in control."

"Of what?" Kit asks, gentle but firm. "You can't blame us for wanting to know. You're not a warlock."

"No," Aze agrees, and shifts a little on the sitting cushion, getting traction on her toes. "Right, so, sordid fel-damned history it is. How much do you know about what happened in Outland? At the Black Temple?"

"Not a great deal," Vond admits, though he leans forward a hair, intrigued. "Though we have some draenei among us. Karabor, right? The great holy site. Ah, formerly. They say it was lost to the ray of an ill star, something along those lines? Taken by the Burning Legion." He seems unclear on more recent inhabitants of the place in far-off Outland.

"Yeah, the Dark Star," Aze says, relaxing slightly. "That didn't have much to do with me, so I don't think I can explain much about it. By the time I got there, the Temple was Illidan's. And he was an ally, at the time, to me and mine. To the Sunfury." She pauses, maybe to see if pieces are starting to fall into place.

Vond blinks widely, shifting with visible uncertainty. "Sunfury," he echoes. "That's Sunstrider's lot, right? The ones bolstering the Legion on Quel'danas. You're not one of those felblood sorts." The statement has the tone of fishing for confirmation as he scans Aze's countenance with renewed scrutiny. He doesn't see any horns or glowstick-spill fissures. Yet. He pauses and lets his gaze stray into space for a moment. Sunfury, Sunstrider. Sunstrike… Where does that ring a bell from.

"No, no of course not," Aze says quickly. "We were fucking fighting the Legion. That was the whole point, for a while - that and finding a cure for… it's not really important anymore. But no, by the time of all the business on Quel'Danas I'd already defected. I was on the right side, fighting the Legion again."

Vond does not seem to be put off by Aze's vehemence - rather, he accepts the clarification with a slow nod. "I see, so ya got out before things took an even worse turn. We may have to run this by someone with a better handle on the whole, uh, sequence of Outland events, as it's pretty far removed from what my duties were at the time. Honestly Greennote may be better primed, given the family connection."

Kit relaxes. Had anyone else realized she was nervous? Maybe. Too late now! She's relaxing again. "Wouldn't be the first time someone's changed sides to keep fighting the same enemy. The Scarlet Onslaught is in a right royal mess, and far from where they'd started. Plenty of people left the Scarlet Crusade when they went too far, but kept fighting Scourge."

He glances to Kit. "The Confessor among them. Is that why you came to me first? Sympathy for the defector?" It's not accusatory beyond perhaps a whiff of ribbing. "I'm just curious what it is you came in contact with that still pervades, Aszera. You keep claiming to be in control of something, which can only give to wonder that it's something you might expect to inspire apprehension."

"I'm not really sure how to explain this without it sounding terrible," Aze says. Perhaps that is a sign that it is, objectively, terrible. Her hand strays to the collar of her armor, like she might loosen it, but then she returns the hand to her lap. "Before I defected, I was sent to be trained by Illidan Stormrage. Stormrage has very particular ideas about how to defeat the Legion - fight fire with fire and all that. So I… became fire, in a manner of speaking. But I'm managing it, and I was a good ally at the Sunwell."

Uncertain, Kit shifts her stance. "You… became a demon?" she asks, tone weighted with uncertainty. Her gaze rakes over Aszera. One could best describe her expression as skeptical.

"Not exactly. If I'd actually become a demon they would've killed me, and I can't even disagree with that," Aze takes a breath, and says, "I'd describe it more like… making my body into a prison for a demon's soul? Mine's still in there, too, obviously."

Vond takes another long, slow nod, uneasy stare fixed on Aszera's blindfold. "Illidan Stormrage, right, alright. You'll have to again pardon, my ancient night elf history bein' tenuous at best, but this is the fella who they say, uh, had his eyes took by the Legion Lord himself, and gets called Betrayer. That Illidan." The next nod accompanies a raise and turn of his chin, eyebrows raised, then freezes into a wince at the further explanation.

"And here I was about to insist we not mince words any further," he prods, not antagonistic but clearly having grown impatient with facts couched in elisions and metaphor, perhaps ironic for a fellow who gestures at hymnody.

"A demon's soul," he repeats, grim. "So we are speaking of an actual conscious presence? Something that would potentially influence you. If you were not, as you say, clearly in control."

"Does it matter? I've been fine," Aze turns her head down toward her hands, a gesture that might be avoiding his gaze, if she were capable of meeting it. "I've seen people lose control, so I'd see it coming, if it happened. Anyway, I even talked to a priest about it a while back. He said I was fine."

"Mordecai?" Kit asks. To Vond, she says, "Brother Colson's husband."

Aze nods, and raises her face to Vond again, her expression apprehensive.

Vond's uneasy peer is tempered by something else - curiosity? Certainly a level of attentiveness that is not solely dug heels or judgement. The furrowed brow of someone taking genuine efforts to scan out the boundaries of something unfamiliar. "I do think it matters that the people you are reaching out to work with - to enter combat with, perchance to die with - understand the particulars of what you are dealing with, to the degree that it pertains to how we're gonna operate here, what to expect. I think it'll be for someone other than me to make the call of how fine it all is, but the more I know the more I can get the explanations quick'n pointed. We're about to move here and there will not be time any longer for such thorough discussion."

He glances between them both with a nod. "Right, from the other day, uh, timid fella. You know him as a capable priest, I take it, so I do believe you there, but you'll understand that we will have to inquire with someone who's got more knowledge in this kinda thing and more of a say. I can certainly bring it to the Confessor. I think Sir Black should know - wanna get his idea of it, if we can catch him with three seconds to spare this short ahead of a bloody major action."

Pleased, Kit nods. "He was my next stop," she admits. "He was my officer the first time I went into the field, and the more people who've met Aze, the better." She smiles at the blood elf, to take out any sting out of talking about her instead of to her. "With you, the Confessor, and Sev on board, I think that'll be more than enough people that others can come to with concerns. At least enough to let her earn trust on her own merits."

Vond quirks an eyebrow faintly at the insinuation that he is already on board. "Aye, I'd thought he knew you's well. Level head on the man and a wealth of experience, more than myself on both accounts. Some of those with more years on 'em may have more weight in their say on anything of a demonic nature than me, likewise.

"I can assure you this for certain, Aszera, that we are in want of willing hands, and anything plain and straightforward you can relay about the details of your situation will help us figure if and how we can set you to effect. If not to me, then to someone we can direct you to."

Aze lets out a low breath, and shifts again, settling her feet under her. "That's good to hear. I'll answer whatever you want, as long as I'm not going to get killed or imprisoned for it. People go for that sometimes, even when you haven't done anything wrong. I mean, I still get to exist, right?" Aze gives a nervous chuckle, and continues, "I'd like to not have to hide. I've been hiding on the outskirts since I came here. And on the way, I made sure I wasn't on the zeppelin books. And before, really, ever since the Black Temple. I think they killed all the Illidari, because I haven't seen any of them since, but… that's not important now. I'm here to help, and it'll be so much easier with direction."

"No one will imprison you or kill you, at least not on this visit. You came here with good intent, and under my protection," Kit assures Aze. "I'm standing surety for your good behavior and for the Argent Crusade's."

Aze nods, with a faintly rueful smile. "At least not on this visit. So… the question you had. It's probably different for different people. It's not exactly a smoothly repeatable process, as much as they wanted it to be. The demon is… a part of me, so it's not like we're having conversations or anything. I've seen people after, though, and I guess the demon's soul is still as sentient as it was before."

Vond gives his head a slight shake. "I don't think you're like to run into that kind of trouble, here, but having touched such forces personally I'd hope you appreciate the caution, the need for some personal safety and direction notwithstanding. I gather that much, that you're looking for somewhere to exist. I'd urge careful consideration of to what degree this is a search for place - any place - versus a specific calling. We are able to do what we do primarily on account of a unified purpose, and work can be found with us even if you do not take up with the Crusade proper.

"We do recruit from all over, but you'll have to consider that we've got quel'dorei in some number. Handful of other sin'dorei even. Everyone who takes up this oath has worked to put aside differences in the name of the Light's work, and it sounds like you may be similarly amenable," he searches Aszera for some form of confirmation to his leading assessment, "I just wanna be sure you are apprised, if there might be particular considerations to integrating that you are more aware of than I. I can be sure to connect you with who I think can help you start to smooth things over bestways, from the elven side."

"If it's a calling, I don't see why it couldn't be mine?" Aze turns subtly toward Kit, her expression uncertain. "And… I am sin'dorei, in case that wasn't clear. I haven't been quel'dorei since the Third War." If that implies a certain disdain for those still calling themselves quel'dorei, it is probably intentional. "But I won't start any fights, if that's what you're worried about."

"Peace, Aze," Kit murmurs.

"I brought it up mostly on account of my lack of clarity on the whole of the matter, especially what happened in Outland," he assures. "It may be there is nothin' more to be addressed than the differences people of both extraction have had to reconcile with under our banner, or there may be some additional concern to which I'm not yet privy. If you'd be right to speak to one of our quel'dorei officers, should things proceed toward recruitment."

He looks and sounds a little uncertain, himself. "That all sound agreeable? I'm about reaching how long I can spare before a few check-ins. Ideally we can reach the Confessor and Sir Black before things get movin', but at this juncture that is not a guarantee."

"Is there anything about you that the sin'dorei or quel'dorei would object to?" Kit asks Aze. "If not, we can go now to meet the Confessor as far as I can tell. If Sev's around, maybe we can meet them both at the same time if time is becoming an issue, Vond."

"As far as I'm concerned, there shouldn't be?" Aze frowns. "Though maybe it depends on how they feel about demons, like everyone. And Sunstrider, I suppose, but I'm definitely not on his side anymore. And when I was, no one would have blamed me for it."

Kit looks at Vond, hopeful.

Outside the tent…

A far off and semi familiar stench catches the redhead's nose with a twitched quirk of his upper lip as he pauses outside of his tent. Full to brim with annoyance and lothe to take company so soon after tying frayed ends together in some semblance of order, Etone pulls his whole posture taut and whips open the tent flap with an accusatory stare in his lightly glowing, green eyes.

"Right then! What's all this about- " He starts with a noticeable hum in his voice, only to cut off as he sees Vond entertaining guests. "- Why do I smell -"
His eyes fixate on the guests, an audible /Ah./ lingers as the redhead clearly attempts to reassess the situation.

Aze gives a cheerful half-wave, turning to face the entrance.

Vond, who had been mulling something over and leaning forward as if to speak again, startles mildly in spite of himself at the motion from the tentflap, jolting slightly in his seated position.

"Confessor," he starts to his feet, his position facing the entry, and his expression sequences through alertness, to relief, to a hedging awkward wince, slightly bent to the side as the tent does not accommodate his full height.

"There's quite a lot to explain. You have a moment, don't you? 'Course you do, you're probably coming to rest."

The best of times to be presented with a complicated situation.

Kit straightens, though she was already on her feet, coming to something very like attention. "Confessor," she says, inclining her head. Bowing her head. Tugging her forelock. Same thing.

Aze seems to consider that waving was not the appropriate greeting. She shifts lightly to her feet, but waits on the others for more cues.

"Vond." He starts, after nodding to the others in a hasty return greeting, there is more than a slight point to his tone. Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, Etone huffs, "Well, I was, but quick and to the point will you?"

It's unclear if he's talking to Vond or the two visitors.

Well, sure, Kit'll take a stab at it. "This is Aszera, a sin'dorei who used to be with Illidan and fought the Legion. She sort of has a demon soul inside her and she'd like to join our cause, possibly the Crusade if all goes well." She thinks, then nods. Yep, that about sums it up.

"Oh, okay, I see." He says with mild sarcasm. "Yeah, but nah, I'm going to need a wee bit more than that-?" He rolls on in and parks himself in a crate while the three explain the past conversation and happenings.

Fade out.