[[OOC:
This will be posted over the next 2 weeks or so as a series of chapters. ]]
Blood Elves - Paxristos' Trial of Sacrifice
Blood Elves - Paxristos' Trial of Sacrifice
Paxristos, Pepetlaca
Re: Blood Elves - Paxristos' Trial of Sacrifice
--- Chapter One : Falconwing Square ---
Paxristos sat in an empty tavern outside Silvermoon City. The Sin’dorei capital was large, and while Blood Elves enjoyed a frequent beverage, only two taverns existed: the stately Silvermoon City Inn, with its famous Suntouched Special Reserve, and the Wayfarer’s Rest Tavern, which boasted no special drink in particular, but was located just off the Royal Exchange, and included loud and pretentious elves among its clientele. Paxristos preferred neither the Vinemaster’s Special Reserve nor pretentious merchants, especially pretentious Sin’dorei merchants, and so he sat, alone, in the quiet of the nameless tavern in Falconwing Square. Pax had sometimes wondered, usually while sitting in the tavern itself, why the tavern was nameless. But alas, the innkeeper Delaniel was usually too busy with Sin’dorei youth to entertain a passing thought.
Paxristos wondered to himself regarding how unfamiliar the familiar setting seemed. He hadn’t been back here since he’d left for Pandaria, and it seemed he hadn’t been back since the very day he left for Pandaria. The day in question made the reason for his return particularly auspicious: Justyr had called for him to meet.
Such a request would normally not have elicited a response, let alone a comply. But the sender required more than a trip to the waste bin to toss the message away. Justyr was the last person he saw on the mainland, and he hadn’t heard from him since his departure nearly 13 months prior. Not a long time, but Justyr was a persistent shadow to him, and with each month that passed, he was surprised by the lack of word from his young friend.
“My young friend,” Paxristos muttered, “what an unusual friend he is.” Not that he was himself unusual. There wasn’t an inconsiderable amount of Blood Knights that held a deeper-than-normal faith for the Light. (The Light is that which condescends its affinity giving Paladins their power). But Justyr was simply an unusual friend for Pax to have.
The thought of his serendipitous friend reminded him of his friend’s brother... Coyo. Coyoacatl was a hunter whom Pax shared a longer friendship, and was in fact the reason why Pax had Justyr as a friend. Justyr was always around, following his older brother to pretty much everything. But Pax grew to enjoy Justyr’s company, not that they had anything in common. Justyr simply attracted everyone to himself. He was remarkably likable, and hence serendipitous. Now Coyo, on the other hand, was the most ostentatious Blood Elf Pax had ever known. Coyo and Justyr were polar opposites, which once led Pax to jokingly refer to them as the “worst brothers ever.” But these two were Pax’s only close friends, companions joined together against all odds in the midst of Arthas’ scourge. It was too soon since the destruction to call these friends “some good” out of a sea of darkness, but Pax appreciated them, and deeply missed their absence after setting sail for Pandaria. Coyo followed him a few months later, but would spend months away from the Shrine in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms that Pax rarely benefitted from his presence.
He wondered what Justyr had been up to this entire year. The defeat of the Thunder King gave Pax some liberty to return home for a visit while the situation in Orgrimmar gathered steam. Paxristos didn’t really care about internal affairs anyway. He needed a real and visible enemy to motivate him to fight for a cause. The Alliance is an enemy. The Mogu were an enemy. Garrosh Hellscream? Garrosh Hellscream is a fool, and fools don’t seem to be worth much time. Besides, Vol’jin’s vendetta and unhealthy alliance didn’t seem to comply with the Mandate.
“Oh, the Mandate,” Paxristos sighed, “wait till Justyr hears about the company I’ve joined up with.” Justyr held no sympathy for the Alliance, but he wasn’t one to sacrifice something for anything but the Holy Light. Pax recalled when M’uru’s heart was sacrificed to reignite the Sunwell. Justyr couldn’t contain himself upon seeing an ounce of faith return to his people. He had never lost faith in the Light even through everything that had happened. Although he had not yet possessed the powers of the Light present in paladins, Justyr had always had a sort of radiance that the paladins possessed, and had an uncanny ability to read people’s intentions. Paxristos knew then the path Justyr would follow, and the many years of training it would require for his young friend to become a paladin. This made Pax jealous for his friend. Pax himself once held the tenets of the Light very highly, but never had the affinity to become a priest or paladin. The thought of seeing his friend disappear into the rigorous years to become a Blood Knight saddened him. He also worried that the Blood Knight way would corrupt his friend’s purity.
The thought of his impending third trial -- the sacrifice -- held Paxristos’ attention almost daily. The further remembrance of M’uru quelled his recollection to how Justyr would romanticize in front of him about sacrifice.
“Justyr, M’uru died without knowing the hope he gave a little whelp like you, how could that be considered sacrifice?”
Justyr would respond, “You still don’t get it, Pax. A sacrifice is more than just a selfless offering or some intended offering. It must require a leap of faith, taken with fear and trembling.”
Even then, he even sounded like a paladin...
“M’uru died for the Sin’dorei. He died with a hope deep in his very heart that one day the very ones who were about to kill him would taste salvation. And the Draenei prophet fulfilled that hope. It does not matter that M’uru himself did not see the relighting of the Sunwell in his very last corrupted moments. He didn’t need to see, he had faith, and that’s why it was a worthy sacrifice.”
“I always thought sacrifice was something the human fatlings did. You know, kill their children as a sacrifice to that Rat King.” Coyo interjected. Justyr just ignored this bad attempt at humor. When it came to his own convictions, Justyr usually ignored Coyo all together.
Paxristos’ recollection thinned as Delaniel dropped a glass, and his mind returned to the present. He admired Justyr’s type of sacrifice, but he didn’t understand why it was somehow better than the trials his comrades submitted to the High Inquisitor: a memento, a loss of a family member. Surely these were all sacrifices, why was Justyr’s notion superior?
And at that moment, through the translucent violet curtain, a brightness entered the Inn. Had he gotten brighter? Surely not. Perhaps it was just the length of time which had passed since their separation. Pax stood as his friend approached, now visibly stronger. Pax wedged Justyr’s neck between the lengths of his slender Sin’dorei arm conjoined by an elbow. With his other hand, he jabbed the young Sin’dorei in the side with the knuckle of his pointer finger.
“You little whelp, still haven’t figured out how to dodge this move, have you?” Pax jeered.
“Of course I have, I just miss the opportunity to let my friend tease me. It’s been too long.”
“Indeed. Please sit with me.” said Pax.
“I can’t believe you made me walk all the way over here. You always thought yourself too highly to share the company of the city’s inn patrons.” Justyr complained as he sat.
“Bah, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good 13 month streak of not stepping foot into Silvermoon? Now tell me, what have you been doing all this time that has kept you so quiet and my mailbox so empty?”
“Please, you know I’ve been busy. You think I would have given up so quickly on my training?”
“Is your name still Justyr? A Pandaren would sooner stop drinking ale than you cease gaining affinity for the Light.” Paxristos replied, thinking of one of his comrades, in particular.
“Pax, that’s why I’ve called you back. Not that I’m ready to sail to Pandaria, or to join the company of my awful brother. But I want to join you. Surely you’ve joined a company by now? I understand many of the companies in Pandaria have bases of operations in Durotar. I could complete my training with the Sunwalkers in Thunder Bluff, and take the daily flight from Orgrimmar and back.”
“Justyr, I’m not sure you will necessarily enjoy the company I’ve joined. They are rather... ignorant of anything you hold dear.”
“They are not ignorant of you, and I certainly hold your friendship dear.” Justyr quipped.
“Yeah, they’re definitely not going to like you.” Pax was sure of that. A idealistic Holy Paladin trainee that literally radiated his affinity into dark rooms. He envisioned warlocks shielding their eyes every time Justyr would enter the guild hall. Demon summonlings muttering nasty things in corners about his dear friend under their fiendish breaths
“I’m not as naive as you think, Pax. You’ve always seen me as a little brother, but I can handle myself. I’m not a child.”
Justyr’s stubbornness made him sound like a child. This would take some convincing on his part, thought Pax. How would he convince Aureliya to admit his holy friend? But perhaps Justyr could help him with his final task. He didn’t know how, but he also didn’t know he would complete his trial of sacrifice anyway. Perhaps Justyr’s type of sacrifice would give him an idea, to make his sacrifice worthy to be accepted by the leaders of the Grim.
“We can certainly try, Justyr. Besides, you will certainly bring something new to the Grim, and there can’t be any harm in them admitting you as a supplicant... a trial member.”
“Wait, you joined a company called ‘the Grim?’”
There was no way this was going to work out. Maybe if Justyr kept his mouth shut, the Grim’s resources could at least finance the completion of his training, whereupon he would be able to join any number of companies in Pandaria. This was really the best way Pax could help his friend, and satisfy his own desire to see him often.
“I thought you could handle yourself? What happened to ‘I’m not a child!’?” Pax teased.
“Let’s just go. We can talk more about this Grim on the way.”
Justyr seemed ready to leave, and Pax wondered on what his friend was escaping from. But surely it would come out on the journey. And regardless of what had befallen Justyr in Silvermoon, Pax was eager to have his friend at his side. A far move from the bright shadow that once trailed him everywhere. Maybe his time in Pandaria had softened him for nostalgia, or perhaps there was something missing in his life that had left when he left for the Mists.
“If you are ready, then let’s go. It’s a long journey, friend. And I suppose you expect me to pay for you?” Pax asked.
“You bet. Let’s see some of that treasure you’ve amassed in Pandaria. I know you wouldn’t have stayed if it wasn’t profitable, you greedy lout.” Justyr replied.
The two Sin’dorei stood and departed the inn together. And for the first time in many months, Paxristos felt like he was home.
Paxristos sat in an empty tavern outside Silvermoon City. The Sin’dorei capital was large, and while Blood Elves enjoyed a frequent beverage, only two taverns existed: the stately Silvermoon City Inn, with its famous Suntouched Special Reserve, and the Wayfarer’s Rest Tavern, which boasted no special drink in particular, but was located just off the Royal Exchange, and included loud and pretentious elves among its clientele. Paxristos preferred neither the Vinemaster’s Special Reserve nor pretentious merchants, especially pretentious Sin’dorei merchants, and so he sat, alone, in the quiet of the nameless tavern in Falconwing Square. Pax had sometimes wondered, usually while sitting in the tavern itself, why the tavern was nameless. But alas, the innkeeper Delaniel was usually too busy with Sin’dorei youth to entertain a passing thought.
Paxristos wondered to himself regarding how unfamiliar the familiar setting seemed. He hadn’t been back here since he’d left for Pandaria, and it seemed he hadn’t been back since the very day he left for Pandaria. The day in question made the reason for his return particularly auspicious: Justyr had called for him to meet.
Such a request would normally not have elicited a response, let alone a comply. But the sender required more than a trip to the waste bin to toss the message away. Justyr was the last person he saw on the mainland, and he hadn’t heard from him since his departure nearly 13 months prior. Not a long time, but Justyr was a persistent shadow to him, and with each month that passed, he was surprised by the lack of word from his young friend.
“My young friend,” Paxristos muttered, “what an unusual friend he is.” Not that he was himself unusual. There wasn’t an inconsiderable amount of Blood Knights that held a deeper-than-normal faith for the Light. (The Light is that which condescends its affinity giving Paladins their power). But Justyr was simply an unusual friend for Pax to have.
The thought of his serendipitous friend reminded him of his friend’s brother... Coyo. Coyoacatl was a hunter whom Pax shared a longer friendship, and was in fact the reason why Pax had Justyr as a friend. Justyr was always around, following his older brother to pretty much everything. But Pax grew to enjoy Justyr’s company, not that they had anything in common. Justyr simply attracted everyone to himself. He was remarkably likable, and hence serendipitous. Now Coyo, on the other hand, was the most ostentatious Blood Elf Pax had ever known. Coyo and Justyr were polar opposites, which once led Pax to jokingly refer to them as the “worst brothers ever.” But these two were Pax’s only close friends, companions joined together against all odds in the midst of Arthas’ scourge. It was too soon since the destruction to call these friends “some good” out of a sea of darkness, but Pax appreciated them, and deeply missed their absence after setting sail for Pandaria. Coyo followed him a few months later, but would spend months away from the Shrine in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms that Pax rarely benefitted from his presence.
He wondered what Justyr had been up to this entire year. The defeat of the Thunder King gave Pax some liberty to return home for a visit while the situation in Orgrimmar gathered steam. Paxristos didn’t really care about internal affairs anyway. He needed a real and visible enemy to motivate him to fight for a cause. The Alliance is an enemy. The Mogu were an enemy. Garrosh Hellscream? Garrosh Hellscream is a fool, and fools don’t seem to be worth much time. Besides, Vol’jin’s vendetta and unhealthy alliance didn’t seem to comply with the Mandate.
“Oh, the Mandate,” Paxristos sighed, “wait till Justyr hears about the company I’ve joined up with.” Justyr held no sympathy for the Alliance, but he wasn’t one to sacrifice something for anything but the Holy Light. Pax recalled when M’uru’s heart was sacrificed to reignite the Sunwell. Justyr couldn’t contain himself upon seeing an ounce of faith return to his people. He had never lost faith in the Light even through everything that had happened. Although he had not yet possessed the powers of the Light present in paladins, Justyr had always had a sort of radiance that the paladins possessed, and had an uncanny ability to read people’s intentions. Paxristos knew then the path Justyr would follow, and the many years of training it would require for his young friend to become a paladin. This made Pax jealous for his friend. Pax himself once held the tenets of the Light very highly, but never had the affinity to become a priest or paladin. The thought of seeing his friend disappear into the rigorous years to become a Blood Knight saddened him. He also worried that the Blood Knight way would corrupt his friend’s purity.
The thought of his impending third trial -- the sacrifice -- held Paxristos’ attention almost daily. The further remembrance of M’uru quelled his recollection to how Justyr would romanticize in front of him about sacrifice.
“Justyr, M’uru died without knowing the hope he gave a little whelp like you, how could that be considered sacrifice?”
Justyr would respond, “You still don’t get it, Pax. A sacrifice is more than just a selfless offering or some intended offering. It must require a leap of faith, taken with fear and trembling.”
Even then, he even sounded like a paladin...
“M’uru died for the Sin’dorei. He died with a hope deep in his very heart that one day the very ones who were about to kill him would taste salvation. And the Draenei prophet fulfilled that hope. It does not matter that M’uru himself did not see the relighting of the Sunwell in his very last corrupted moments. He didn’t need to see, he had faith, and that’s why it was a worthy sacrifice.”
“I always thought sacrifice was something the human fatlings did. You know, kill their children as a sacrifice to that Rat King.” Coyo interjected. Justyr just ignored this bad attempt at humor. When it came to his own convictions, Justyr usually ignored Coyo all together.
Paxristos’ recollection thinned as Delaniel dropped a glass, and his mind returned to the present. He admired Justyr’s type of sacrifice, but he didn’t understand why it was somehow better than the trials his comrades submitted to the High Inquisitor: a memento, a loss of a family member. Surely these were all sacrifices, why was Justyr’s notion superior?
And at that moment, through the translucent violet curtain, a brightness entered the Inn. Had he gotten brighter? Surely not. Perhaps it was just the length of time which had passed since their separation. Pax stood as his friend approached, now visibly stronger. Pax wedged Justyr’s neck between the lengths of his slender Sin’dorei arm conjoined by an elbow. With his other hand, he jabbed the young Sin’dorei in the side with the knuckle of his pointer finger.
“You little whelp, still haven’t figured out how to dodge this move, have you?” Pax jeered.
“Of course I have, I just miss the opportunity to let my friend tease me. It’s been too long.”
“Indeed. Please sit with me.” said Pax.
“I can’t believe you made me walk all the way over here. You always thought yourself too highly to share the company of the city’s inn patrons.” Justyr complained as he sat.
“Bah, why would I want to ruin a perfectly good 13 month streak of not stepping foot into Silvermoon? Now tell me, what have you been doing all this time that has kept you so quiet and my mailbox so empty?”
“Please, you know I’ve been busy. You think I would have given up so quickly on my training?”
“Is your name still Justyr? A Pandaren would sooner stop drinking ale than you cease gaining affinity for the Light.” Paxristos replied, thinking of one of his comrades, in particular.
“Pax, that’s why I’ve called you back. Not that I’m ready to sail to Pandaria, or to join the company of my awful brother. But I want to join you. Surely you’ve joined a company by now? I understand many of the companies in Pandaria have bases of operations in Durotar. I could complete my training with the Sunwalkers in Thunder Bluff, and take the daily flight from Orgrimmar and back.”
“Justyr, I’m not sure you will necessarily enjoy the company I’ve joined. They are rather... ignorant of anything you hold dear.”
“They are not ignorant of you, and I certainly hold your friendship dear.” Justyr quipped.
“Yeah, they’re definitely not going to like you.” Pax was sure of that. A idealistic Holy Paladin trainee that literally radiated his affinity into dark rooms. He envisioned warlocks shielding their eyes every time Justyr would enter the guild hall. Demon summonlings muttering nasty things in corners about his dear friend under their fiendish breaths
“I’m not as naive as you think, Pax. You’ve always seen me as a little brother, but I can handle myself. I’m not a child.”
Justyr’s stubbornness made him sound like a child. This would take some convincing on his part, thought Pax. How would he convince Aureliya to admit his holy friend? But perhaps Justyr could help him with his final task. He didn’t know how, but he also didn’t know he would complete his trial of sacrifice anyway. Perhaps Justyr’s type of sacrifice would give him an idea, to make his sacrifice worthy to be accepted by the leaders of the Grim.
“We can certainly try, Justyr. Besides, you will certainly bring something new to the Grim, and there can’t be any harm in them admitting you as a supplicant... a trial member.”
“Wait, you joined a company called ‘the Grim?’”
There was no way this was going to work out. Maybe if Justyr kept his mouth shut, the Grim’s resources could at least finance the completion of his training, whereupon he would be able to join any number of companies in Pandaria. This was really the best way Pax could help his friend, and satisfy his own desire to see him often.
“I thought you could handle yourself? What happened to ‘I’m not a child!’?” Pax teased.
“Let’s just go. We can talk more about this Grim on the way.”
Justyr seemed ready to leave, and Pax wondered on what his friend was escaping from. But surely it would come out on the journey. And regardless of what had befallen Justyr in Silvermoon, Pax was eager to have his friend at his side. A far move from the bright shadow that once trailed him everywhere. Maybe his time in Pandaria had softened him for nostalgia, or perhaps there was something missing in his life that had left when he left for the Mists.
“If you are ready, then let’s go. It’s a long journey, friend. And I suppose you expect me to pay for you?” Pax asked.
“You bet. Let’s see some of that treasure you’ve amassed in Pandaria. I know you wouldn’t have stayed if it wasn’t profitable, you greedy lout.” Justyr replied.
The two Sin’dorei stood and departed the inn together. And for the first time in many months, Paxristos felt like he was home.
Paxristos, Pepetlaca