Story 2: Lament of the Highborn, featuring Avaia Dawntoucher.
Setting: World of Warcraft
Yeah, this is the story of a quest from Ghostlands, but the song struck such a chord I had to write a story for it. Questline also shortened a bit; I didn't feel like writing for the High Executor in Tranq.
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The wild haired banshee that was formerly a ranger of Silvermoon wailed in her post-death agony, ghostly claws trying in desperate fury to rend their way through a shield spun of pure light, held together by little more than will. Behind the shield, Avaia Dawntoucher chanted. Her crystal clear voice rang true, the words of the Cant of Light spilling from her lips faster and faster, energy weaving in and around her fingers, gathering in a bright gauntlet around each hand.
The banshee howled and spat curses in Thalassian, striking the shield again and again. With a mighty crack, it shattered a claw, which spun off to one side before dissipating into the mist.
The wailing hit a sudden high note. The barrier fell. The banshee grinned, teeth dripping gore from previous victims. It surged forward, intent on killing this latest annoyance.
Avaia's chant came to a crescendo as she thrust her hands at the ghostly woman suddenly. The banshee's ectoplasmic form erupted in a sudden volley of light and a single, echoing screech. "May you rest well, sister," the priest managed, muttering a small prayer for the poor thing's soul. There was nothing left of what was once a proud Silvermoon ranger aside from a pile of stinking dust, some strange glowing goo, and an intricate silver amulet with a glimmering sapphire set into the center. Avaia knelt beside the debris and gingerly dipped her wand into the necklace attached to the amulet, snagging it neatly and lifting it from the goo. She held the amulet and chain aloft while she shrugged off her pack and fished a single piece of linen from it. She dropped the amulet gingerly into the linen square and wiped the banshee's remains from it. Discarding the cloth, she raised the amulet to the sun.
It was a solid piece of silver, cut into the shape of an oval about three finger widths across and four from top to bottom. The outside edges were gilt in the style of old Quel'Dorei craftsmen, flourishing and delicate. The large sapphire that was set in the middle glowed with a minor polishing enchantment - likely what kept the whole piece in such good repair for all these years. It would fetch a nice price at the traders in town, at least. As she slipped it into her pocket, Avaia's fingertips touched something on the back side of the amulet. She pulled it back out and flipped it over, resting it in the palm of her hand.
On the back side was a single line of text, etched in wavy Thalassian script. Avaia read it aloud. "To Sylvanas. Love always, Alleria. Sylvanas? Alleria? The Windrunners?" She puzzled out, staring in disbelief at her newly acquired treasure. "This...is Lady Sylvanas' necklace? She will want this back for certain. I know I would," her mind made up, Avaia pocketed the amulet and called upon the magic of her hearthstone to return to Tranquillien. From there, she could catch a flight to Silvermoon, and translocate to Undercity.
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Avaia made her way to the seat of royalty in Undercity warily, trying to take in the sights of the strange and sprawling subterrainain city but not stare at things inappropriately. It was difficult, given the fact that even the stitched abominations that served as guards for the city beneath a city were almost unreal to behold, their bodies lurching and strange, held together by little more than bizarre, twisted magic and sheer luck. She followed one of the loping monstrosities along the outer ring of a bubbling, green river that flowed through the city from the alchemist's labs until she spotted the royal guards of Lady Sylvanas and ducked down the passageway to her chambers.
She walked slowly up to the dias where Sylvanas stood, trying desperately not to make a fool of herself before the queen of the Forsaken. Sylvanas was still glorious and beautiful despite her current condition and Avaia could not help but stare at her features. The banshee queen locked eyes with her and regarded her with something akin to contempt. Avaia averted her eyes in response, and knelt before the queen. "Lady Windrunner, I am Avaia Dawntoucher, a priest from Silvermoon," she said, then paused, waiting for an invitation to continue.
"Well, priest? What do you want? Regardless of my current form, I do not have all of eternity to stand about and stare at the latest in fashion from the elven country. Make it quick and leave my court, if you would," the banshee's voice rolled over Avaia like an ice cold wave.
"I have something for you, Lady. A gift. I found it at your former home, in the Ghostlands," Avaia managed, her voice rather meek in light of the banshee's tone. She fished the amulet out and held it up with both hands, her eyes still low. Sylvanas made an immediate grab for the shining object, snatching it from Avaia's palms. Her once hard expression softened immediately, and she caressed the amulet.
"It can't be! After all this time, I thought it was lost forever," Sylvanas intoned, her voice somewhat far away. It had an almost sad note to it. Avaia thought the ghostly ruler was on the verge of tears. Then as suddenly as it had hit, it ended. Sylvanas threw the amulet to the ground, bouncing it off the flagstones at her feet. "You thought this would amuse me? Do you think I long for a time before I was the queen of the Forsaken? Like you, it means nothing to me, and Alleria Windrunner is a long dead memory! Now remove yourself from my presence, priest!" She spat viciously, and turned her back on Avaia.
Avaia felt a pain in her chest, something akin to the day she lost her brother. But she said nothing. She stood, eyes still averted to the floor, and backed away from the dias slowly. Who knew what the creatures in this room would do to you if you turned your back on them, after all. Varimathras was already eyeing her like a hungry cat looks at a wounded bird. She made her way to the foot of the dias and bowed, hoping the queen would change her mind. The queen did not budge. Avaia sighed. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all.
As she was turning to leave, she heard the banshee queen sigh. Avaia stopped in her tracks and listened. There was a sudden gathering of arcane energy, and a release - a spell had been cast. Instinctively, Avaia raised her shield - but there was no need. Lady Windrunner had merely used magic to summon four other banshees. And they were singing.
Lady Sylvanas' voice was crystal in tone, amazingly clear and entrancingly beautiful. She began the hymn to the lost, a song that reportedly had roots in Keldorei, but had since become a dirge of pain for the Sin'dorei. Avaia froze, unable to stop herself from staring and listening to the spectral choir. Unable to stop herself from crying. Crying for every one of the lost elves, all of them - her friends, her family, the rangers, Lady Sylvanas, Alleria, the entire blood elven nation. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the dirge rolled on, the voices of the elven ghosts filling the massive chamber completely. Even Varimathras couldn't move against them, seemed amazed at the clarity of the song. Not a single person, living or dead, mortal or demon, moved until the song came to a trailing, beautiful end.
When it was done, the highborn ghosts vanished in a puff of magic and the chamber began to return to business as usual. The warlords began arguing across the room at one another, Varimathras called them all inferior, and life went on as if Sylvanas hadn't sung the dirge at all. Almost. Lady Sylvanas bent down and retrieved the necklace, tucking it into a pocket. Avaia smiled sadly, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. She bowed to the Lady, turned, and left Undercity entirely.
It was good to know Lady Sylvanas remembered.
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Here's what Avaia saw, for those of you who haven't seen this, or didn't stay long enough for the even to trigger when you turned the quest in...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHV9nMR6_n0 
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