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Meeting the Master
Azrahael crept silently between the rustling leaves. The only noise that could be heard was the wind between the leaves of Ashenvale forest, and the grunts of the Timbermaw he was stalking. He’d been following the Timbermaw warrior that had killed his beloved Sayward. The memory lingers still to this day, burning his failures to protect her forever in his mind. The softness of her hair, the grace of her movement; all destroyed in one flurry of a murderous pillaging. She was gone, and he was here.
Azrahael peered through the thicket at the Timbermaw. The hatred building in his stomach. It burned as though a fire were blazing in his innards. He flexed his hands as though to remind them of the grim task that lay ahead.
He thinks “These hands will exact revenge.” as he looked down...
“Elune forever surprises.” He thinks.
For it was not long ago that Azrahael had been a simple fisherman. Together Azrahael and Sayward lived in solitude and peace in the sacred woods near Lake Falathim. Until the Timbermaw came. At the lead of the war party was a satyr…
But he would be saved for another day.
Azrahael shook out the ashes of his memories and gazed once again through the thicket.
“Now is the time to see what you are made of night elf.”
He saw the one wearing the necklace she gave him when she declared her love for him.
The energy welled in his legs, he grinds his teeth in rage, ready to spring.
A noise.
Azrahael’s ears bent backward instinctively, and he froze. His eyes moved to the side ever so slowly ready to fight to the death whomever it was coming from behind. And they were coming fast and mounted. As his head turned to face the fast mover, a flash of white fur and steel flies over his head and the thicket where Azrahael was hiding.
“Good day vermin!” A boisterous voice boomed.
Azrahael spun quickly toward the village he’d been stalking. Whatever it was that had flown over him was now moving and killing so quickly that only a Night Elf’s eyes could catch it. It seemed to be a knight of some kind. Though the massive armor made it difficult to see what this beast was, its’ movements seemed familiar.
He had never fully been a part of the realm of the Night Elves. Even though he’d been invited to attend the Brewfest in Darnassus, Azrahael had always seen his true place in the forests that his beloved Elune created. Not in the gaudy pride of a Druidic city.
In a flash of screams, steel, and blood Azrahael’s vengeance was exacted, but not by his hands. The knight slowed his movement as the massive cat to his side ceased his rage. It turned to face Azrahael. It’s eyes peered through him, and its fangs were bared. A low, very low, growl came as though it were ready to pounce. Azrahael prepared for the worst. If this beast and its’ master had cleared out this entire village of Timbermaw in a flash… surely this meant the end to his short life.
The knight swung around to meet him, and a chill of fear ran up his spine. The knight then stood upright, relaxed.
“Easy Deimus.” His voice stern, but loving. The massive cat at his side lay down staring at Azrahael. Swords sheathed, the knight removed his helm.
“A night elf!” Azrahael exclaimed.
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