The hooded cloak was really too big for her. It should have been for someone twice her size. Today, however, it was just right. It acted like a shroud from head to toe. Standing at her post knee deep in snow, she looks out from under the hood of her cloak across the snowy mountain range of Alterac Mountains. Nothing more than a private now, she thinks, they won’t break me.
She reminisces back to a better time…
“We stand for Justice! We protect the weak!” barks Uther. “We vanquish the evil! Arise.” He pauses a moment and then says “Knight of the Silver Hand.”
Saulene stands and dawns the tabard. A sly smile crosses her small mouth while she looks down at it.
“Tell me what you think high elf. There are few of your kind among us. I am curious to know why you have joined us?” asks Uther.
“It’s how I feel.” she says awkwardly. “I don’t fit in amongst my kind, yet here, I do.”
“And the tabard?” asks Uther.
“Honestly, it’s just a symbol whether I wear it or not will not change who I am and how I feel.” utters Saulene.
A smile broadens on Uther’s face. “You are rare indeed Saulene. Many cling to the tabard like it’s more important than life. It’s nothing more than cloth with coloured thread. It’s the ideal that is immortal. We ride with the strong to protect the weak. We do what we do neither because we should nor because we could, but because it is who we are.”
“…who we are.” Indeed.
She stands in the snow, like her own personal punishment for failing Uther. She received his call for aid too late. When she arrived his body was being moved in a procession to a tomb. She hears a crunch of snow behind her in the distance and turns to look. How the mighty have fallen. Now we have the dregs of the earth in the army.
Approaching in the distance were three figures. She could tell from their general sizes who they are. She never bothered with their names. Criminals deserved nothing. The large one had a nickname though. Ogre. Rumor had it, not that she believed rumors, he was half ogre. While not true, it’s hard to refute when he was as dumb as one. The small one had a hawk-like nose and beady eyes. His eyes always wandered to things of value, like he calculating how much he could sell all your gear for. The last figure was of medium size, build, and even looks. It’s not easy to recognize him, but being with the other two ensured his identity.
She waited patiently for their approach. Ogre stands in front of their leader with hawk-nose to Saulene’s right.
“It seems this just isn’t your day little bitch.” the leader chuckled. He’d never called her that before. Today would be different indeed. “Seems we got here,” as he pulled forth a scroll and read aloud, “that by decree of the General, that all elves, that means you, little bitch, are to be arrested and imprisoned.” He gently rolls the scroll back up and places it back into tunic. “Now, ‘fore we get to that I thought we’d have a little fun with ya first.”
Winter being as winter is, no one wants to be cold and wearing plate in the cold is just one more thing to keep warm. No one generally wears plate in the winter unless they have to. Saulene was no different; except for today.
“Is that so?” says Saulene. It’s more of a statement than question. “You think that was the only messenger we got today or should I say lastnight?”
Ogre is as ogre does. He didn’t get it, but then he’s the most dangerous. Saulene steps forward with her left foot. She raises her shield. This causes the cloak to part and her right hand that has been clutching her sword all day sweeps upward. The sword slices through leather and skin from naval to neck. Blood flies upward in an arc. Ogre falls backward into the snow.
She spins to the right and ducks a thrown knife from hawk-nose. She then spears him with her sword. She lets go of her sword and hawk-nose curls into the fetal position and falls to the snow. The movement causes the cloak to fall to the ground.
The leader’s eye widen when he sees her dressed in full battle attire. She pulls a mace from her belt and says, “Your death will not be so swift.” She raises the mace to strike from on high. She pauses in hope he would be predictable, and she isn’t disappointed. He raises his hands in defense and she swings downward aiming for his left hand. The mace hits the end of his fingers. This causes them to jam into each other. Some fingers bend backward, some crumple and some break sideways. The fingers ram the hand backwards and shatter the wrist and shove his arm downward.
She steps forward and using the edge of her shield she jabs hard into his shoulder. A popping sound is heard followed by a crack. The shoulder dislocates and the collarbone breaks in the same area.
He screams a scream agony and drops to his knees in snow. Saulene isn’t worried about reinforcements. The wind is howling like it knows death is in the air.
“I could have left last night with the messenger, but I had to stay. You see, with or without the tabard I am a Knight of the Silver Hand. Your day has come.” Saulene says vehemence in her voice.
She drops her shield into the snow and pulls off her alliance tabard that she was given to replace her tabard of the Silver Hand. “I received word last night Kael’thas was arrested and that we elves have been betrayed. Knowing Kael as I do, he won’t take that lightly.” She loops the tabard around his head ties a knot at the base of his neck. His eyes bulge in shock and realization.
“Please, no.” he whimpers.
“You want mercy? You should have showed some first.” she says as she drags him over to the makeshift wall overlooking the Alterac Mountains. Without another word she flings him over the rail and loops the other end of the tabard over a post. With both arms useless he kicks and flails against the wall. The cold wind bites at her ears and her plate mail starts to grow cold. Ever vigilant she stands there until his struggles cease and his breath she can see in air of his stops.
She gathers her gear and says idly to herself, “Always was a fan of the ‘until dead’ part.” She then departs.