Lost Lions

[Hello everyone! I've decided to open this up to get a bit of an IC reaction out of everyone about how they are feeling about the previous mission concerning Iron Knuckles and of course, our very own Jo and Zekaar being missing! This is intended mostly for monologues or what your character is doing as Frovelos is out looking for them and Izzy is on stand-by. Feel free to interact with each other and have fun! Or angst. That works too.]

In the vast desert of Uldum, in one of the dozens of ancient, deep ruins that litter the desolate landscape, a large pile of sand shifts and moves.

The large, worn out figure of a Kal'dorei appears from underneath, somewhat protected from taking the blunt of the sandstorm by a tarp he found from an abandoned tent. Still, he emerges with violent coughs, dust leaving his lungs and allowing him to breathe again.

"Fuck me.." he spoke to himself. "Should have come better prepared."

Having left the keep in a hurry in fear for the life of his friend and one of the new lions, he did not have the chance to prepare properly for however long the search might take.

Frovelos wrapped his tattered cape around himself, dusted the sand off of his shredded armor and kept walking towards the coast.

She didn't like waiting, but wait she must. She was actually quite honored to have been chosen to lead the rescue mission. It meant, if nothing else, that the Commander trusted her with the lives of two Servitors. Still, she didn't like the wait. She knew the rescue could go terribly wrong. She had seen what these orcs were willing to do. She had seen the dead civilians they had used to set a trap for the Servitors. She knew very well this could be yet another trap. Without the information from Frovelos she could only see two ways to go about it. Slow, quiet and virtually invisible, or a bloody, rather reckless charge to make sure they reached their swordkin before their throats were slit. She hoped for the former, yet knew the latter was more probable. 

Reckless. If only those two hadn't been so damn reckless. If only they had kept their heads and not charged off this could have been avoided. She almost expected that kind of thing from a human, but of an elder Draenei. Reckless. Stupid. 

This wasn't going to be the time to train her shamanism. She had to be prepared for the worst. She sat and wrote.

"Vindicator Sendoa

Temple of Karabor, Draenor

My dear friend,

I hope this finds you well. I'm sorry to bother you. I know that with the war, you are most likely busy. I hope you can find the time to either see to this personally, or have one of your recruits look into it. I am in dire need of my armor, and as my hammer is currently unavailable, a good two handed sword if you have one to spare. You know the type I like. Please, have them shipped to the city or Ironforge on Azeroth. Thank you, in advance for taking the time to help an old friend. I owe you dinner. Perhaps that stuffed sea scorpion I know you like? 

Yours in the Light,

Izarre"

She left the keep and payed a currier a hefty fee to make sure it was in Karabor before noon. 

It hurt, as best she could hurt, and as her fist met the bark of the tree she doubted she'd be able to make it stop. Fear, guilt, and deja vu of the most horrible kind mixed to form something utterly uncomfortable. As she leaned her forehead against the tree's side, she tried to ignore the memories of the last time a friend, a coworker, had been in roughly the same scenario.

Her white hair was stained with dirt and blood, making the young gnome almost unrecognizable. Her intact arm was bound, although M could not remember with what. At the time, her attention had been fixed on the stump that rested in the girl's lap and how, when she opened her mouth to speak, only blood gushed out.

"No," she groaned, twisting metallic fingers into her mess of black hair. "No, no, it won' happen like tha'. It'll be rough, they'll be okay. It'll be okay."

She'd rarely doubted her own words so intensely.