The Path of the Shaman and Izarre's Big Box of Papers

*Before you sits Izarre's famed box of papers. It isn't just any box, no. It's shaped like a large tome and would open like one. You can't quite make out the material its made from. Is it metal? Is it leather? Perhaps its both? Hard to tell. Still, it's hard, and strong. Few alive could tell you what it's made from. Few alive remember the now long destroyed world it came from. On the center there is a single, fist sized gem embedded in the material, which barely sticks out of the relieve, flawlessly worked into the shape of an nine point star. Those who have seen her write, know it has something to do with the locking mechanism. What, well, that is another question. Within are countless loose pages. She prefers it that way. Most are written in Draenic, old Draenic but every now and again, there might just be some pages in orcish or even common these days.* 

*written in chicken scratch common* 

Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh Ii Jj Kk Ll Nn Mm Oo Pp Qq Ss Rr Tt Uu Vv Ww Xx Yy Zz

Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh Ii Jj Kk Ll Nn Mm Oo Pp Qq Ss Rr Tt Uu Vv Ww Xx Yy Zz

...

*the exercise goes on for two pages and perhaps, by the end, the chicken scratch is slightly less of a scratch* 

*highly contrasting her chicken scratch common, this entry in in flawless draenic*

I finally met, and joined these Servitors of Lothar the dwarves kept going on about. They seem, and sound like a proper enough group. All of my research point to them being a fine, small outfit. It will be good to have proper work while I study shamanism with the Wildhammers. It will be good to give something back to this Alliance that has helped us so much during the Orc War. I must say, the various races of this world are quite interesting. Theres a Miss Shorty a gnome. Proper name. She's about the hight of my knee. It will be interesting to see what someone so small can do. Im curious about this new world. Perhaps I will find friends here. 

The Commander confuses me some. Honest and straightforward with his men. I'm not altogether sure what happened, but it seems he tried to set a trap for some tailor or another which went terribly bad. Word has it some died. He was injured in the process. Some kind of poison? What troubles me isn't that he laid a trap which backfired. It's the guilt. Those I've met trust him. Has he really seen so little of war, and struggle that a failed plan affects him so? Troubling. Will he crumble the day he is forced to order one of us to our death for the benefit of the mission or to save the rest of the unit? 

They speak of something which looks to feast on souls. I've offered to speak with orcish shamans back home. I just need to find out more about all this to know what to speak to them about. I know little of what is happening. I definitely need more details before I seek out advise from those who speak with the ancestors. 

I must admit, the elements seem to have plans for me. After millennia, this has all been an interesting turn of events. For once, in a long time, I'm actually excited about what life may bring. 

Izarre ran to the mailbox like she did every morning since she had sent her letter to the Exodar. Her eyes glowed with the excitement of a child waking up on Winterveil morning. The small wind elemental perched on her shoulder urging her on, assuring her that today was the day. This new world, the elements, the fracture in time and space, all of it, had awaken her from the passive slumber that her life had become. She woke each morning to a world of wonder and her curiosity could only rival that of a kitten. She reached into the mailbox and pulled out everyone's mail. Sifting through envelopes, she let those which weren't for her fall to the ground. She could pick them up later. Finally there it was! That official looking envelope with the seal of the new world Draenei. Her eyes devoured every letter as if they were written by a far off lover.

"

Esteemed Vindicator Izarre of Draenor, 

We regret to inform you that our records show that your alternate self, Vindicator Izarre, fell in the defence of Shattrath on the planet now known as the Outlands. We know that this may be a hard and confusing time for you, and your kin. As such, we invite you to visit the help groups we've established at the Exodar to help our people cope with the lose, or reunification with their alternate selves and relatives. 

If we may be of assistance helping you find anyone else, don't hesitate to write, or visit our office.

May the Light of the Naaru guide your path,

Anchorite Neria

Exodar Center for Draenei Affairs

Draenei Reunification Office

"

She couldn't help but laugh out. There was a twisted morbid humor to the situation which struck her to the core. She was dead. She had survived millennia of war, and struggle; she has seen more worlds that she could remember be destroyed, and she had died in some backwater crumbling world at the hand of an orc? And yet, here she was, still alive, still fighting wars, still seeing new worlds. She laughed harder and longer than she had in a thousand years. Velen would have said that the Light is mysterious. That we each have our destiny and path to tread. She wondered what he would say now that he too was both living and dead. If the Light had a plan for her people, it truly was morbidly mysterious. She wondered, for a moment, if any who survived in that other reality has also survived in hers. Perhaps the Light had arranged for there to be only one version of a person alive in all realities. She'd have to write this Draenei Reunification Office and ask. 

She sat and lay back against the mailbox with the widest of grins on her face. Life, was truly wonderful. 

*written in old draenic*

26th of May

Its a week and a tad since I joined these Servitors of Lothar. Quiet so far. Seems they just took a heavy blow. Moral is low. They prepare for disaster. I'm not against being prepared for the worst. I even volunteered to help. I do, however, have some concerns with the timing. Something about preparing for all the horrible things that may come to pass when you've just had your face punched in doesn't feel quite right. It's really not my place to judge being the new recruit and whatnot. I've just begun to understand the situation. Still, you don't really need to know people well to see that they're broken and hurting. The Commander (probably the worst off at the moment) asked me to talk to other members, to listen, give advise. Be the ears and lips he feels he can't be at this moment due to his apparent mistake and position. That feels like something I can do. It definitely is something new blood can do. Might also be a good way to meet these people and practice my common. Common. What kind of a name for a language is that?

Theres a new girl! I'm no longer the newest recruit! Young, with no military experience. She's some kind of wolf hybrid. Interesting race? curse? Cute. Fuzzy. She's probably the one of spoken the most to. She's determined to not mess up and be thrown out. It couldn't have been a better time to get another recruit. I can definitely use someone to study with. Rules. Sign language. Code language. All written in common. 

Three languages, shamanism and three classes to prepare. Why exactly am I wasting time writing to myself? 

Before you forget, next time, offer to set up a night on the town before classes in a language you can't speak. Honestly old girl, what are you thinking?

May 29th,

I believe I have my very first official friend on this new world! Avo and I will be traveling together during the time we have off mid-year. She's so young. Twenty-four. So young. She reminds me of one of my daughters. What was her name?

You should write your children. 

Light...should I bother with the alternate children who might be alive and know I died?

Naaru help me. This is complicated. It really makes no sense at all. 

I should start writing. 

*Two stacks of printed letters, in Draenic, appeared by Izarre's bunk. There must be hundreds of each*

4th of June

Printing! Perfect solution. I might actually finish these some day. If my time of this Azeroth has taught me anything is that I truly like gnomes. So marvellously curious. So wonderfully ingenious. Even though our technology is in some ways far beyond theirs, it lacks the creativity which seems inherent to gnomes. I can't help but wonder if it is a due to their small size. Perhaps this has been a limiting factor in their cultural development which led them to develop such tools? 

On that note, these humans, save for their numbers and courage, seem like a rather unremarkable race. I half expected to be more impressed by their cities and culture, judging from their efforts in the orc wars on Draenor. 

8th of June,

Well, it seems that my class on our technology went well. I care to think that everyone there understood the basic principals. Miss Shorty. Really what kind of name is that? Is she particularly short for a gnome? Old girl, you digress. Amazing intellect. I think she got the most out of my lesson. She managed to turn my overly simple rocket into some infernal contraption. She seems to incarnate what I like of the race. 

My time with the Wildhammers has been interesting to say the least. Much of what they have to teach me is new, and at the same time, not. Granted, I was never much of a light user, terrible at casting, but the basics seem the same just with a different source of power. Channelling fire into a weapon is pretty much the same as doing so with light, save for the subtleties of the technique (note to self: buy fire resistant gloves) and the same goes with casting a bolt of light, or lightning. I think my limitations as a Vindicator will remain my limitations as a shaman. Focus on using the elements to strengthen close combat instead of casting. 

The teachings of dwarves are perhaps most important in the use of totems to amplify my elemental energies. They've given me some odd stone totems. I've yet to fully understand them and the way they're linked to the elemental planes, but when I do, I'll design something better. Something more fitting of a Draenei. If what I understand so far is correct, I should be able to further amplify their effect with proper crystal working. If not, well, I'll have better looking totems. Honestly, did they carve these with their teeth? 

So far, I've only failed at understanding the mystical bond between ale and shamanism. Still, if my trainers insist on drinking it at the start, during, and after lessons, there must be a reason. I'll get to the bottom of it yet. 

The best lessons, however, have not come from the dwarves, but from the four lesser elementals who have decided to be my companions and guides in this new life. Although they rarely teach, getting to know them, spending time with them, and talking to them has taught me much about the characteristics of the elements. Their attitude and personality reflect the properties of the elements. Alone, they seem like children; in pairs, they quarrel like siblings; but when all of them are present they almost seem like a well rounded individual. It, of course, goes back to the most basic lesson of shamanism: There must be balance between the elements.

Alas old girl, time to put down the quill and start your day. Do remember to write about each of the elements in the coming days.

Water. By far the element I feel least akin to. Water is an elements of life and healing. Much like water brings life to a desert, it heals, or rather, restores and cleanses that which is part of nature. Perhaps one of the reasons I don't understand it is because we Draenei have always relied on the Light to heal our wounds. Perhaps it is because even as a Vindicator healing was never something I was good at. 

Although all the elementals speak of balance between themselves, water seems to see it in a much finer scale than the rest. Fire and Earth speak of balance in order to keep the world from falling apart while Water will argue that balance is needed in every leaf and between every insect and plant. It all sounds clear enough on paper, as they say, but I feel my sight is far too broad to fully understand it. Or rather, to feel, and sense this balance.

Water is, in my eyes, motherly. Patient, calm, attentive to detail, and above all, caring. She, because I feel female kinship to it, looks upon the mischief of Fire and just sighs with a smile, knowing she will have to clean up the mess left in its wake. I can relate. This is, perhaps, the reason she and I talk late into the night, even though we’re so different in many ways.

Air seems to be the only one who can get on her nerves. Air doesn’t respect order or stability. It prefers change and often behaves erratically. The two, however are strongest (and most terrifying) together. Just as the storm, or tidal wave needs them both, shamans needs the balance between the two if they are to be effective at combat. Lightning, this electricity the gnomes talk about, requires there to be water in the air for it to actually flow and not just concentrate itself. It is in this context that I must get to know the fine balance of water. I’ve been a mother long enough. I’ll leave healing to our medics.

July 20th

A man joined us yesterday. A Draenei of the other timeline. What I've learned we call Broken. There are no words to explain the pain I feel. Yesterday should have been a happy day but neither earning my colors, nor a new lover can ease this agony. I've seen worlds torn asunder. I've seen every form of twisted Man'ari the Legion has thrown at us through the millennia, and yet, I've seen nothing like this. I can't begin to imagine the energies that could have caused this. I don't want to imagine what this Outland, a world I love, is now like. I can't help but think about which of my children, or others I've loved suffered this fate. I've heard that there are those who are even worse. I don't want to know.

My heart is broken.

August 20th,

The Light has faded from Amaia's eyes. Tomorrow, we will say goodbye like we did in days past. Never again will I leave remnants of a loved one to be toyed with and corrupted. I hope Folcan can be there. I don't want to admit how much I need him with me. 

Izarre,

I have been thinking a lot about you of late. Of me, of you, of who I was, who I am, and who you were when you returned to the Light. I often imagine meeting you, sitting with you and talking to you about so many things. Life has become so strange, so unpredictable. I do not know if we will meet in the Light one-day and have the opportunity to talk. I do not know if we are one, torn apart, if we are two, or if we simply cannot exist in the same time and place as the other. One day, perhaps, we will know. Until then, allow me to write you in hope that you can read these words from where you are.

I have heard from the Prophet of your reality that you were among those handpicked by him to stay behind and defend the exodus from Shattrath when the city fell.  It is both a wonderful and terrible thing to be able to envy your own death. After so many battles, after so long, I can’t help but be joyful, and proud that you fell of your hooves, doing your duty to our people like you always did. There are so many ways to die. I’m glad you found a proper death. I can only hope that when it is my time to return to the Light, I will do so in such a manner. 

Our Prophet has fallen. I stand. There are creatures on the world I stand on now called dragons, some, with power over time. Some of them think that it is an impossibility for there to be two forms of a single person at the same time. That perhaps, that is why such things happen. The more I think of it, it seems like a twisted jest of fate. Speaking of jests of fate, do you remember Yrel? The frightened, self-doubting acolyte in the Temple? She’s an Exarch now. How am I meant to believe that fate doesn't have a good sense of humor?

I for one, am no longer an active Vindicator. I still do some work for Karabor, mainly training and lecturing, but our world has changed and I with it. Izarre, I am in love. The orc wars of my time set the elements in disarray and they turned to our kind. There are no words to describe how it feels. I feel them struggling against each other deep inside me. I hear them. I talk to them. I feel the very world I walk on speaking to me. With the Light, well, I hardly need to tell you how it fills you, how it swells in you and becomes a part of you. But the Light is consistent. It rises and falls, but overall, feels the same. The elements don’t. They’re constantly changing, conflicting, allying against each other and uniting. Every patch of earth you set your hooves upon, every breath fills you with new emotions. Izarre, mixed with the Light, it’s like seeing the world through a half dozen utterly different pairs of eyes at the same time.

Training as a shaman has given me the opportunity to see a new world. It has given me a chance to work with the various races of Azeroth. It has given me a chance to begin to understand the orcs we lived besides for so long. It has woken me up from a life that had become dull and dreary. I wish you were here so I could show you what I’ve learned. Show you what we are capable of, and never knew we were. Izarre, I am in love with life once again. I think of you, of me not long ago and can only hope that in the time our paths split, you too were able to love life again.

Izarre, I am also in love. How you would frown on me. How you and I frowned on those who mingled with orcs. How I frowned on myself before giving in to this. He is a human. A male of Azeroth. What could I possibly write to convince you? The Light shines brightly in him. He is a good man. I seem to have bet my heart, and reputation with the Vindicators on him without thinking twice. You, who dwell in the Light, look for him? Keep an eye on him, and grant him your strength? I promise he’ll grow on you. He has a way of doing that. You get used to the lack of hooves.

I hear that most remains of our kin on your Draenor were desecrated by the orcs. I doubt there’s anyway to give you a proper burial. When I build up the strength, I plan to put up a cenotaph for you on the rise the city.  You know which one I mean. The one we love. I hope it’s still there. I’ll leave this letter there for you. Don’t worry about those left you left behind, I’ll watch over them. Don’t worry about your duty, it remains mine.

Yours in the Light,

Izarre

I thought I had seen it all. I really did. I've seen worlds crumble. I've seen kin twisted and turned to demons. I've seen more sentient races than most would imagine could exist. I had really begun to believe there was nothing which could really, honestly, strike me. Azeroth, my Red Lions, are ever full of surprises. What we saw last night, this torment of the dead, is unlike any cruelty I've yet to experience. Yes, the Legion has pulled off some pretty bad things in the past, and no doubt will again, but they would rather twist and torment the living and the flesh. 

I've read the history of these lands. I know the facts. My companions, however, lived them. They were all very visibly affected by what we saw. I can understand the reactions of Miss Shorty and Shivs. The gnomes were after all, part of the Alliance that forsook the pale elves. I can understand Roiya's pain, as a priestess. I can understand Etharion's pain as a person. Frovelos, however, seemed more personally affected than what I can explain. I just don't know. Roiya is old. I can feel it. I don't worry about her, even though she dealt with the most terrifying bits personally. Miss Shorty is Miss Shorty. I know she has more secrets than I care to know. I've seen her body. That one. Well, she's tough, and distant, and I doubt will ever see more weakness and vulnerability in her that I already have. Shivs and Etharion I will try to approach and make sure they are stable. Frovelos. I worry about him. He has secrets. The kind I feel he doesn't want to keep. He just feels off to me. 

This has been trying for all of us. What is to come, will be worse. Thank the Light for having made me a Vindicator. Keep a straight face. Keep a strong stance. Above all, show serenity. Be the anchor and lend them your strength. I can break down once it's done. 

Thank the elements for making me a Shaman. Did they plan this? Did they know? Did they send me to train on Azeroth so that I would be here to help my Lions? Light, talk about having to learn a discipline quickly. If I never have to work with void shamanism again I'll be a happy Draenei. So much contact with void energies drains me. I'm so tiered. Keep it together. 

*another sheet in her box, in Draenic *

My beloved Iz'ahare,

I was rather surprised to receive a letter from you. How long has it been since you left us? Since you left me? Perhaps not long, and yet, a war has passed in between and you, better than most, know that each day of war feels like years. Why write now? Why write all this to me? How am I to reply to you, to your story, to your plea for advise as anything other than a woman scorned. 

Iz'ahare, you are a woman torn. A woman torn between two worlds, two times, and two lives. Until you find yourself, you will never really be able to relate to your beloved elements or Lions. You said I know you best, and yet, I know nothing about who you are now. I've know nothing about you since the elements begun to speak to you. Why come to another for an answer about who you are? It would seem you've forgotten the lessons you once taught me. 

Come home. I'm not asking you to come home to me, but come back to us. You don't belong there. You said it yourself. You've seen yourself in death in that timeline. You're not meant to be there. None of us are. Iz'ahare, there are reasons why the Exarchs have decided that our people will remain in this timeline. You're needed here. Countless have died in the Orc wars. We need you at the temple training Vindicators. We need your hammer. Don't send us humans to train when what we need are seasoned Vindicator. Why give your life to a human and your Lions instead of your people? 

Your duty is here, your family is here, and your friends are here. I'm still here. Come home?

May the Naaru grant you the wisdom you seek, Iz'ahare.

Maya

((I've decided to add stories to Izzy's forum life, so there's been a bit of a name change and of course, a structural change. Some things are better narrated than written. ))