Netherbane: Returns, Part III

This place always smelled of soggy dirt and rotting plants. The occasional odor of spoiled fruit wafted out from the tents tucked into the corners of the Lower City. Overall, Rephaia found it as unpleasant now as she did when she and her sister had taken refuge here so long ago.  Of course, back then it was a grandiose fortress of safety, providing deliverance to two draenei who had fled the machinations of their fel-corrupted mother. Back then, she embraced the entirety of Shattrath City as their salvation.

Now, however, Rephaia had a new home. Azeroth was the world she had taken as her own, choosing to become a bulwark against the forces that arrayed themselves against it. Draenor--Outland, as it was known--had been lost long ago. Its bones were all that remained, drifting about the Twisting Nether and providing shelter to those too stubborn to leave. Outland could no longer be a home to anyone. It was barely even a shelter. Azeroth, however, still teemed with life. It was as Draenor had been before being shattered into fragments. Azeroth was her home now. Outland was not.

As she continued to walk, her armored hoof squished into something soft and sticky on the ground. A foul smell arose from whatever-it-was in which she had stepped, and Rephaia looked to the grey sky before whispering a soft curse. A groan followed as she looked down to see what, exactly, was causing that smell.

“Heya, toots!” came a distinctly goblin voice from her left. “Free hoof cleanin’s, only four gold! Nasty stuff on the ground around here, ya know. Can cause infection and erosion, if’n you’re not careful.”

Rephaia’s golden eyes narrowed as the goblin approached, bottle of cleaning fluid in hand and a dirty rag over his shoulder. “If it costs four gold, then how is it free?” She folded her armored arms across her breastplate--a rather difficult thing to do in that suit.

“Don’t think of it as a cost,” the goblin explained, pulling the rag off his shoulder and spraying some chemical-smelling concoction onto it from the bottle. “Think of it as a donation. You donate gold to me, and I donate effort to your hoof! Or hooves. Though, two or more will cost you extra.”

“How… how does one have more than two hooves, goblin?” Rephaia raised an eyebrow at the little man.

“People bring their mounts through here all the time, lady,” he began. “How do ya think that stuff which ya stepped in got on the ground in the first place? ‘Sides, when you’ve seen some of the stuff I’ve seen here in Outland, you begins to cover all your bases. Know what I mean? One hoof, two hooves, five hooves… I don’t judge ‘em, I just wipe ‘em!” After a pause, he added, “Well, maybe I judge ‘em a little, but I never say nothin’. Honest.”

Rephaia continued to stare at the goblin, unsure how to continue this conversation.

“So, whatcha say, vinkidater? Five gold sound good to ya?”

“Vindicator,” Rephaia corrected. “And wasn’t it four gold just a few moments ago?”

“The more we’s talk, the more I’s increase the price. Time is money and all that, ya know?”

“Tell you what,” the draenei paladin began. “I’ll give you ten gold to have you not spray me with whatever stinky alchemical stew you have in that bottle, but to simply wipe this stuff off my hoof. And answer a few questions.”

“Fifteen gold. I’ll use my floral-scented fluid--you seem like a floral-scented kinda gal--and I’ll answer five questions for ya.” The goblin had flung the rag back over his shoulder and had fully entered haggling mode.

“Thirteen gold and use a clean towel,” Rephaia unfolded her arms and deliberately rested her left hand on the hilt of the hammer slung at her waist.

“Twenty gold,” the goblin grinned. “For the extra mental stress you jus’ gave me with your low-key threatenin’, there. Don’t think I don’t know what yer doin’, lady. I ain’t survived here by bein’ stupid.”

Rephaia opened her mouth to retort, but stopped herself. He was not wrong, after all. She let go of her hammer as her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Eighteen gold, goblin, and that is my final offer.”

“Hey, works fer me!” The goblin grinned a toothy grin and then turned around. He waved for Rephaia to follow. “My booth’s right over here. Sit yer pretty self into the tall seat over there and I’ll get the Essence O’ Wilting Grave cleaner.”

Rephaia hesitated. “Wilting Grave?”

“Eh?” The goblin frowned as he looked over his shoulder. “Oh! No, sorry. Wilting Grace. Wilting Grave is for the undead. I get ‘em mixed up all the time. Same color bottle, different smells altogether.”

Rephaia frowned at the goblin, but he had already turned away and was heading to his small tent and booth over against the inside wall. She followed him to the tall chair that rested next to what she assumed was his home. The chair itself was of ornate construction for something that appeared to be a salvaged wooden throne from one of the ruined human settlements. A few of those had sprung up and been razed to the ground after what the Azerothians had dubbed The Second War. The fortresses had been a part of an expedition sent through the Dark Portal to push back against Ner’zhul’s orcish forces. While there were still some humans who lingered in Outland to this day, most had chosen to return to their home after being trapped here for years. Rephaia assumed that this chair was from one of those that had been abandoned. She stepped up and into it, as directed.

“Prop yer hooves up onto the stool there,” the goblin waved to a raised wooden plank in front of the throne. “I’ll be right out.”

‘Right out’ would suggest that the goblin was going ‘in’ someplace to retrieve his cleaning solution. However, he simply wandered over to a nearby wooden chest, unlocked it, and peered inside. From her now-high vantage point, Rephaia could see that it was filled with cleaning bottles of all shapes and sizes. And colors. And smells. A colorful miasma of odors billowed up from the chest’s interior as the goblin poked his head in.

The draenei propped her hooves up on the makeshift stool and waited. The goblin took a few moments, mumbling to himself and rummaging through the bottles, but finally emerged from the thickening cloud of aromas with a slender yellow bottle. ‘Essence of Grace’ was written in fancy script on a label slapped onto the side. There was an image of what appeared to be a vineyard above the text. 

Rephaia tilted her head. “Is that… a wine?”

“Wells, yeah.” He pulled a clean towel from a nearby rack as he approached her. “But it’s strong stuff when it comes to cleanin’, and it’s gotta good smell. Wanna whiff?”

Rephaia shook her head and motioned the bottle away as the goblin shoved it into her face. “No. Thank you. I… will trust you on this.”

“A’ight,” the goblin shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“Er…” Rephaia was suddenly uncertain if she had made the correct choice in following this goblin. It was just a hoof-cleaning, after all, right?

“So,” the goblin changed the subject as he poured some of the wine onto the fresh rag and knelt in front of the stool. “What brings yous to Outland? Vacation? Or yous here to kill somethin’? Or, I dunno, maybe both?”

“I am looking for someone,” Rephaia answered. She peered down as the goblin applied the now-wet rag to her dirty hoof. While he was forceful in his cleaning, he was not rough or sloppy. He seemed to have experience with this. She was impressed. “My sister.”

“Sister, eh?” The goblin seemed focused on his job, and his conversation was obviously only getting a fraction of his attention. “She a draenei like you?”

“I…” Rephaia shook her head and chose to ignore the nonsensical question. “I believe this is where she retreated. Shattrath used to be our home.”

“It’s home to lots o’ folks, lady,” the goblin scrubbed especially hard at the bottom edge of her hoove, and a thick clod of dried mud--and something else not-so-dry--fell off. The freshly clean spot revealed a glimmer of golden metal in the grey daylight. “Oh! We’ve hit jackpot!”

“That is my shoe, goblin,” Rephaia replied evenly. “It is mine and you cannot have it.”

The goblin looked up at her with a smirk. “Look, lady, I ain’t stealin’ yer shoes. I just meant that we’re seein’ something more than just muck. Though, I may charge an extra one gold accusation fee…”

Rephaia sighed, but continued her explanation. “My sister and I have not been on best terms. I am thinking that this needs to be corrected, yes?”

“Are you asking me or yerself?” The goblin continued cleaning, working his way around the glimmer of golden shoe. “Because it sounds like yer askin’ me, but it feels like yer askin’ yerself.”

Rephaia frowned and chose not to respond. What did this goblin think he knew about her relationship with Saaira, anyway? He was just a goblin hoof-shiner trying to scrape together a living in the dregs of Shattrath’s Lower City. He could not know the layers of the relationship that Rephaia had with Saaira.

“Look, toots,” the goblin spoke up again after a few moments of awkward silence. “I don’t claim to know the layers of yer relationship between you’s and yer sister, but I do know that Saaira needs ya back in her life. She’s lonely out here, even if she don’t say so.”

Rephaia blinked her luminous golden eyes at the little green creature scrubbing at her hoof. He was almost done with the left one and, she assumed, would be starting on the right in a few moments.

“She’s been here fer… what? Six months now? A year?” The goblin paused to scratch his protruding chin as he pondered how long it had been. “Meh, I dunno no more. Time’s all fuzzy out here. But she’s been here a while.”

“...how do you know Saaira, goblin? I never mentioned her name to you.” Rephaia narrowed her eyes, wondering if she should reach for her hammer again or not.

He paused entirely then, sitting back on his ankles and looking at the draenei paladin. “So, some months ago this draenei lady, lookin’ much like yerself, but a little more… erm… undead, if you know what I mean--So, this draenei lady enters the Lower City lookin’ fer a place to stay. Me bein’ the upstandin’ citizen that I am, offers her that place to stay. For a price, o’ course. I had a run-in wit’ some of the local ogre tribes. Well, maybe just one tribe. Or maybe just one ogre--hard to remember the details and all that--and I needed help in gettin’ the brute off my back. Seems he wanted payment for services rendered and I didn’t have all of it, yet. I was gonna pay it back in full, with interest, o’ course--because that’s what an upstanding citizen like myself does--but this ogre was havin’ none o’ that. He wanted his monies--actually, it wasn’t money so much as a bundle of rare arakkoa feathers--by the end of the week. The previous week, mind you. Impossible even by magical standards, seein’ as that I didn’t have none of the feathers he needed, yet.”

Rephaia just stared at the goblin across her hooves for a moment as she listened to him ramble. He was not quite looking at her as he spoke, but was gesturing and waving his hands as if shaping the air into the tapestry of his tale. It was fascinating, and a little difficult, to watch.

“Where was I?” He continued. “Oh! Right. So, this undead draenei lady, sorta pretty if she weren’t emaciated-like, comes walkin’ into the Lower City, and she needs a place to stay. So I says to her, ‘lady, if you needin’ a place to stay, I’ve got a lead on an empty hovel over in the far corners of the city. Freshly abandoned and ready for a new tenant! I jus’ needs yer help with gettin’ rid of the original tenant, is all.’”

“You had my sister evict the ogre that was troubling you, goblin?” Rephaia’s expression clearly depicted her lack of amusement at the story so far.

“Ehhh… ‘evict’ is such a nasty word,” the goblin replied. “I prefers ‘encouraged to seek new employment in the Shadowlands.’ It sounds like it has more opportunity, right? More hopeful.”Rephaia blinked again. “You had her kill him?”

“I think of ‘kill’ like I do ‘evict’. Shadowlands, remember? He’s there now, lookin’ for new opportunities in life.”

“...but he is no longer alive, yes?”

“No,” the goblin corrected.

“No?”

“No, he is no longer alive, yes.” He nodded his green head in a definitive fashion.

“So… you had her kill him,” Rephaia stated again.

“Well… yeah,” the goblin finally admitted. “I had her kill him. But he deserved it, I swears! He was terrorizin’ others in the Lower City, too. Had become some sort of crime boss, ya know? Big brute forcin’ his way into everyone’s business, takin’ monies and buyin’ feathers. Sometimes even takin’ them feathers right off the arakkoa themselves, ya see? Downright rude, if you ask me.”

“I see.” Rephaia’s frown made her opinion rather clear. “So, where is Saaira now? Did she take the hovel once it was ‘abandoned’?” 

The goblin nodded with enthusiasm, happy to be moving on to the next logical subject. “She did. Dunno if she’s there now. She’s been doin’ odd jobs here and there for the whole of the Lower City. When she got rid of Ruk’horg, she became kinda this sorta folk hero, see? He wasn’t well liked around here an’ all, and she freed us from his overlordship. They’s used to go to him for help, and he’d demand payment in monies or feathers--dunno why he had a fascination with them arakkoa feathers, said they was pretty or somesuch--and he’d always charge outrageous prices and demand they be paid by unrealistic deadlines. And he took the phrase ‘deadline’ literally! Killed anyone who couldn’t pay. When yer sister got rid of him, the peoples started goin’ to her for help, and… she helped! Like, no payment asked or nuthin’. I tried to tell her it was bad business, but she just gave me this look. Yeah! That look! That one right there!” He pointed at Rephaia’s disapproving expression and nodded his confirmation.

“That is because even she understands that asking for payment for offering assistance is dishonorable, goblin.” Rephaia explained. “If you are capable of helping, you help. No payment is required.”

“Yep!” The goblin nodded again. “Sounds exactly like her! Except she’s a little less ‘holier than thou’ than you are. No offense, of course, toots. It’s just that your sister delivers it in a more ‘matter of fact’ way. You’re all ‘I know better than you and you should, too!’ with it. Completely different delivery.”

Rephaia raised an eyebrow, but the goblin continued speaking over anything she may have said in protest.

“Anyways, since she helped all of us so much, I decided to help her some more, too, ya know? Payin’ it sideways and all that?”

“...I am unfamiliar with the phrase.” Rephaia frowned. “Why would the orientation of one’s payment matter?”

“Just an expression,” the goblin waved a dismissive hand. “It’s like payin’ it forward, but not fer strangers. Payin’ it to people who helped you first.”

“I still do not understand what this means. I thought you said she did not ask for payment.”

“She didn’t--” the goblin sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind. Verbal expression. Symbologism and all that, ya know? When words aren’t taken literally. Expressions.”

Rephaia nodded at this and motioned for the goblin to continue.

“I’ve been helpin’ Saaira out here and there, when she needed it. Usually with more technical services. I’m a good mechanic, ya know. I’m not just a hoof-shiner! Though, she does need a good hoof-shinin’ rather often. She goes trompin’ around in muck whenever she can find it. Probably does it on purpose so she can get a free shinin’ off me, now I think on’ it. Like I said, she’s lonely. Likes the company. Likes to talk. So we chatters as I help her rebuild the stuff she salvages when out and about, ya know?”

“And her talking is how you know we were sisters?” Rephaia tilted her head.

“Kinda, yeah,” the goblin nodded his confirmation. “But also, the two of you’s is twins, right? I mean, most draenei look mostly the same to me anyway, but the two of you? Practically the same face! Also, Saaira told me that you had chosen to become one o’ them ‘Lightforged’ or whatevers. Said you were always decked out in golds, purples, blues, and more golds. Usually accented with more golds on top of that. And, no offense, lady, but ya do have a certain lightbulb quality about ya. A pretty lightbulb! But still a lightbulb. We could prob’ly power half the lower city with just the glow on yer armor!”

Rephaia frowned at goblin, hoping that her disapproval was palpable enough to be felt as well as seen.

“Yeah, yeah,” the goblin waved another hand in her general direction. “I know that look. Yer sister’s good at it, too. So, it ain’t got no effect on me no more. I know she’s a softie, and you prob’ly are too, right?”

Rephaia remained silent and kept the frown on her face.

The goblin smiled, showing his sharpened, but uneven, teeth. “Yeah, the two of yous is the same, just different. S’what I thought when I first saw you step in that pile o’ talbuk poody. You had the same expression of disgust as she did. Which is easy, since ya share the same face and all.”

Sighing and shaking her head, Rephaia moved to stand.

“Wait wait!” The goblin scrambled to his feet and frantically motioned for her to sit down. “I’m not done wit’ the cleanin’!”

“I will survive, goblin,” Rephaia assured him as she stepped out of the chair. “There is plenty still on this ground for me to step in and undo your work anyway. Thank you for your time.” She reached into a belt pouch and tossed him a hefty gold coin.

He snatched it from the air and his eye lit up when he looked more closely. “Ey! This is a full twenty-piece! You agreed to eighteen.”

“Consider it extra compensation for what I am about to ask, yes?” Rephaia gave a faint grin. “Now, where is Saaira’s hovel?”

* * *

It was more of a glorified tent. It had a small, round, solid structure towards the back--what Repahia assumed was the general living and sleeping section--but the front was almost entirely constructed from canvas, skins, and wood. There were also bright feathers tied to the corners of the tent. Probably decorations left by the previous occupant. She could see various bits of scrap and detritus beneath the tent area from where she stood, and had to wonder about what Saaira had been up to for the past few months.

The hovel still had the feel of being abandoned, though. The interior was dark when looking from the outside, and there was no sign of movement or activity within. There was not even a stove fire for cooking or warmth. Then again, Rephaia did not believe Saaira needed either of those comforts in her current state. They were reserved for the living.

Around the back, outside of the round structure, however, Rephaia found three mechanical constructs in various states of disrepair. The first was a draenei vigilant. The vigiliants were of eredar origin, tall automatons that were often controlled by the souls of the dead. It was a way for fallen draenei to continue their service to their brethren, guarding or fighting with their new mechanical bodies. Instead of traditional arms and hands, the upper limbs of a vigilant formed two heavy shields. They served to keep the machine, and the valued soul within, safe. They were also heavy enough to be used as effective bludgeoning weapons, should the need arise. This one was mostly complete, but was missing a few panels on its main torso. The head module, a triangular piece that contained the visualization sensor array, was also missing.

The second was something distinctly goblin in origin. Rephaia assumed that this was the hoof-shiner’s work. It was an upgraded shredder, with an enhanced engine module on its back and a set of foldable wings tucked underneath that engine. Various cutting and propulsion blades could also be seen nestled into hidden compartments all over the thing. It closely followed the ‘Sky Golem’ pattern with which Repahia was familiar. This one looked fully functional, but its furnace, the front of which was fashioned into a leering goblin face, was long ago extinguished. While in a better state of repair than the vigilant, this machine still needed plenty of attention.

The third, and final, construct made Rephaia frown. It was the broken torso of a miniaturized fel reaver. The huge mechanical war engines of the Burning Legion were forces of pure destruction, able to level entire cities with brute physical force alone. Others had been equipped with massive cannons, and Rephaia had seen many of these in her recent fight against the Burning Legion on Argus. This one, however, was tiny in comparison. It was, as best as Rephaia could judge, around the same size as her own Lightforged Warframe. The deep green humanoid construct was still missing both of its arms and legs, however, and the seething felfire that normally burned within its heart was as dark as the Sky Golem next to it.

Rephaia frowned as she returned to the front of the hovel, trying to find any more evidence of Saaira’s whereabouts. The goblin had mentioned that Saaira had been looking for salvage, but was she building an arsenal?

“I wondered how long it would take you to come looking for me,” said a voice across the small clearing in front of the hovel’s tent. “Eight months, however, exceeded even my worst expectations.” Saaira stood across the clearing, her arms crossed in front of her and an expression of disappointment on her face.

Rephaia’s sister was her twin, both daughters being born on the same day. Of the two, Saaira was the older by only a few breaths. When they were young, Saaira had always been the more outgoing of the two, always the one to lead into a conversation, a friendship, or a battle. It was no surprise to find her here, then, with a judgemental gaze resting upon her ‘younger’ sister.

“We did not part on happy terms the last time we spoke, Saaira,” Rephaia replied, crossing her own arms across her armored chest. The two draenei were similarly clad, wearing remnants of their old armor repaired and modified in the years since their arrival on Azeroth. Rephaia kept hers polished and shining in gold, with deep red cloth to accent the power of the Light which she so eagerly embraced. Saaira’s was darker, covered in an aged patina reflective of its time stored away in some forgotten corner of Outland. Instead of golden Light, Saaira’s armor pulsated with a strange fel-tinted glow. Rephaia did not know when her sister had retrieved it from wherever it had been lost, but a part of her was amused that, at the whims of fate, the two of them matched in attire as well as appearance. No wonder the goblin had recognized her so easily.

“I seem to remember that being entirely on you, Rephaia,” Saaira said with a grimace. “I was only finally coming to accept what I had become. You… were not.”

Rephaia did not look away from Saaira’s icy gaze, but instead met it with a fiery one of her own. “I do not trust the manipulation of the dead, Saaira. You knew this then, and you still know this.”

Saaira raised an eyebrow. Her body showed minor signs of undeath, but was generally well-preserved. The blood magics wrought upon her by their mother had done a remarkable job at sustaining Saaira’s physical form. Her face was a little more gaunt and pale than that of a living draenei, but there were no open wounds or visible areas of decay. One could easily think of her as a living specimen from afar. “Since when has your ‘approval’ mattered to me?”

“Since you allowed it to matter to you, Saaira. You are the one who fled Azeroth after our last meeting, not I. I returned to the warfront. You ran.”

The frown on Saaira’s face deepened at the retort. “It was clear to me that sharing that world with the ‘abomination’ I had become was not something you were willing to do. The word was yours, was it not? Something you mentioned to your ‘Commander’? Or was it to that demon hunter?”

Rephaia looked away this time, her eyes shifting over to the rest of the Lower City visible behind Saaira. This hovel had, indeed, been tucked away in a corner. It was not, however, so hidden as to be out of sight from all the inhabitants--just far enough away from the bulk of society. Rephaia wondered how much of Saaira’s insecurities lingered. Still a significant amount, if she adopted this hideaway as her new home.

“I know what I have become, Rephaia,” Saaira continued. “It has not been easy for me to accept. I can no longer touch the Light as I once did--as you still do. My strength is… different now. Other thoughts dominate my mind, and other powers lurk between those thoughts. I was tired of trying to deny them. It was difficult enough handling my own adjustment to this new state. Hoping that my sister could find it in her heart to accept me for what I had become should not have been such a significant thing.”

Rephaia did not turn back to look at her sister. Instead, she turned fully around to gaze at the hovel itself. It took her a moment to reply. “We are who we are, Saaira. At our core, that does not change.”

After a few long moments of silence, Saaira passed Rephaia and asked, “Why are you even here?” She did not wait for a reply as she entered her home, leaving her sister still standing outside with the unanswered question.

The Lightforged draenei spun on her hoof and stormed after Saaira into the canvas-covered forward chamber of the hovel. “I came here to try and make amends, Saaira. To ask you to return to us. Not to be judged!”

“You judge so readily but are unwilling to be judged on your own?” Saaira turned to regard her sister. Rephaia’s anger was growing more plain on her face. Saaira’s was icy cold and focused entirely through her eyes. “You have looked down upon me since my resurrection. You have either chastised me or avoided me entirely since mother brought me back. And now you come here… for what? To apologize and make things better with a mere word? Then to demand I return to the side of a sister that no longer trusts me?”

“This,” Rephaia began, lowering her voice to a whisper in an attempt to prevent herself from shouting, “was not my choice.”

“No,” Saaira frowned, but nodded. “I suspect it was not. You still do not trust me, Rephaia. Do you? I am still an undead ‘abomination’, yes? Still ‘one of those things’? What other words have you used to describe my kind? ‘Affront to the natural order.’ ‘Enemy of the Light.’ What else?”

“I have never described you with those words…”

“But you do. You said it yourself: you do not trust the manipulation of the dead. I am one of those manipulations. How you think of them is how you think of me.” Saaira turned away again and walked further into the home--stepping out of the forward tent and into the house proper.

Rephaia followed her sister once more, clenching one of her fists over the pommel of the hammer at her belt. “Will you stop walking away from me, Saaira?”

Saaira rounded on Rephaia, causing the paladin to nearly collide with her. “You walked away from me first, Rephaia. At every opportunity given to you, you chose to leave me as I was. Instead of watching over your sister, you ran off and forgot I existed.”

The sisters locked their eyes onto each other in a silent battle of wills.

Saaira continued after a few long heartbeats, her expression filled with a seething anger. “‘An abomination’ may not be how you think to describe me, but it is how you treat me.”

“This was a waste of time,” Rephaia whispered as she turned away. “I should have known better than to think you capable of seeing reason, Saaira.”

“What reason have you given me to see, Rephaia?” Saaira asked. “What proof have you given to allow me to trust you after what you have done?”

Rephaia spun, her anger finally exploding. “After what I have done? What about you, Saaira? You think I distrust you because you are undead, but have you forgotten how that happened? Have you forgotten your own actions? Did you forget about the day when you chose to forsake me and join our mother? Did you forget about rejecting the Light and accepting the fel instead? Even after everything I tried to do to heal you? That is why I cannot trust you, Saaira. Not because you are undead, but because you betrayed me first! You broke your promise to me! You severed us, Saaira! Not me!” Rephaia’s voice broke and tears started streaming down her face. “You forced me to kill you…”

Saaira stepped back, her face a mixture of shock, anger, and sadness. Her frosty rage dwindled instantly, leaving an expression bereft of the intensity it had mere moments ago.

“I loved you, Saaira,” Rephaia said as the tears continued to run down her cheeks. “I know you were always closer to mother, but you were all that I had after we fled. That you chose to go back to her over staying with me…” Rephaia turned around and started for the door. “You were not the only one that died back then.”

Saaira watched in silence as the Lightforged paladin left the hovel.

* * *

Araatris sat on the edge of a broken stone railing on the side of one of the arched bridges that connected Shattrath’s central structure to the outer ring. She could see a good portion of the Lower City from this vantage point. Her blindfolded gaze was enhanced with a demon hunter’s spectral sight, giving her a rather colorful view of everything in this part of the city, including those creatures who still retained lingering wisps of fel energy. It was rather fascinating to watch, like the fel taint of Outland was something as pervasive as the air.

She remembered the recent war on Argus, and how that world had felt very similar. Argus, however, had spent the better part of ten millennia being torn apart and infused with fel magics. Outland had merely spent a few decades. The two worlds, while similar in their state of destruction, were eons different when it came to their surviving environments. Though, from what she could see, the corruption permeated almost everything here as it had done there.

“Come,” came a female voice from behind her. 

Tris jumped. Normally, her felsight allowed her to see without a restricted field of view, but she had been distracted. She turned to look at the draenei paladin standing nearby. Rephaia was one of the few things not infused with fel energy here. Instead, she was bathed in an aura of holy Light that almost made her… sparkle? She probably would not appreciate that description, so Tris had never brought it up. Instead, she stood and asked. “Sooo… how’d it go?”

Rephaia turned to face the demon hunter, tears having left trails of wetness down her cheeks. “What do you think?”

“Ah,” Tris sighed. “Right. Well… everything has to start somewhere?”

“It has not started, Araatris,” Rephaia replied with more steel in her voice than Tris thought was necessary. “It is done now. I am done now. We are leaving.”

“Okay okay,” Tris put her hands up in a gesture that said ‘please don’t hit me’. “We can go. At least you tried…”

* * *

“Heyas, toots,” the goblin called into the front tent of the hovel, knocking on one of the wooden supports. “I came to continue workin--Oh, is, uh… is something wrong?”

Saaira sat in the doorway of the main hovel structure, her back against the solid frame of the door. Her head was hanging forward and propped up against her knees. She was hugging her legs, isolating her face from the rest of the world.

“Go away, Phrazzic,” Saaira mumbled. “Come back again later. I do not wish to hear your clanging tonight.”

“Right,” Phrazzic nodded, wringing his hands. “I guess that meetin’ with your sister didna’ go so well, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeah. Well, judgin’ by the datas available to me, I’m thinkin’ it went kinda badly.”

Saaira did not respond.

“C’mon, Saaira,” Phrazzic said as he stepped into the frontal tent. “We’ve known each others for a few months now. You can talk ta me. I don’t even have to work on the golem. I cans just listen, ya know? I can do that. Honest.”

“And how much will that cost me?” Saaira asked without looking up.

“Free! No charge!” Phrazzic declared as he walked over and plopped down next to the draenei. “This one’s on me, right?”

"Is not time equivalent to money?"

"Well, yeah," Phrazzic scratched his head. "But sometimes people are worth the time, too, ya know? Now get to the talking, lady. Let ol' Phrazzic help."

Saaira raised her head and looked at the little green goblin. Had her tear ducts still functioned, her eyes would probably have been puffy and irritated from crying. As it was, Saaira's face was still gaunt and thin. “Why do you choose to trust me, goblin?”

“Uh, is this a trick question?”

Saaira frowned. “No. Why?”

“Because you answered it yerself there,” Phrazzic waved at the draenei. “I choose to trust you. It’s a choice, ya know? Like when I choose to eat the meaty special that ‘The Rokk’ cooks up knowin’ full well that it ain’t neither meaty nor special.”

Saaira’s frown deepened. “But why do you choose to do so? What have I done to earn it?”

“By helpin’ us,” Phrazzic shrugged. “I mean, you got rid of Ruk’horg, didntcha? Yous also continued to help without askin’ for no monies. And you’ve paid me on time and in full whenever you’ve hired my services. Basically, gal, you’ve proven to be trustworthy, so I choose to trust ya.”

“But what do you truly know about me?” Saaira straightened up a bit more, stretching her legs and placing a hoof against the opposite door frame. She was opening up a little. Getting more comfortable. “What do you know about what I have done in the past, and how do you know that my actions won’t cause me to betray you in the future?”

“Well,” Phrazzic considered, “for one, I can’t predicts the future. I ain’t got no control over that. For two, if you do… you do, right? We jump them hurdles when they happen. Your past don’t make your present, ya know.”

“I do not understand.”

Phrazzic took a deep breath and paused, thinking for a moment. “So, it’s like this, see? Your past defines nuthin’ but yer past. Like, what I did yesterday helps define the Phrazzic from yesterday, right? It helps to suggest what the Phrazzic today may be, but it doesn’t define me today. Only my actions today define me today. Am I making sense?”

“No,” Saaira’s sour expression still clung to her features.

“It’s like I saids earlier,” Phrazzic continued, obviously frustrated at his own lack of clarity. “It’s all a choice. If’n I choose to be a right bastard today, then today I’m a right bastard. If’n I choose to be a fillo-thranpic fillo-thanpicist today--”

“Philanthropist.”

“Yeah!” The goblin nodded at Saaira’s correction. “That. If’n I choose to be one o’ them today, then that’s what I am today, see? My yesterday don’t matter so much.”

“But what if you hurt someone yesterday?”

“Well, then I hurt someone yesterday, right?” Phrazzic shrugged. “Whether or not I gotta make amends really depends on who I’m choosin’ to be today. If I wanna be better today than yesterday, then I be better today and try to makes up for it.”

“So,” Saaira’s voice was still laden with some confusion. “You are saying that you can be a different person each day?”

“Kinda? I mean, you can, if’n that’s what ya want. And it may be excitin’ for a few days to keep changin’, but I figure that’ll get tirin’ real quick, ya know?” Phrazzic shrugged. “I mean, it’s easiest to just be who we are, if that makes sense. We make choices, but we’re all predisposed to make certain choices. Usually them choices are ones that make us feel good. And what feels good is usually what aligns with who we be naturally.”

“I think I am starting to understand, Phrazzic.”

“Good,” Phrazzic sighed. “Because I was runnin’ outta words to explain it there. But, yeah. Yer past don’t define you today. It only defines you yesterday. Or, uh, whenever whatever happened… happened, ya know? To answer yer previous question, I trust ya because all the yesterdays I know of ya have proven to me that yer trustworthy, right? So… I trust ya. ‘Sides, what would we do here without ya? We’d still be under the stinky thumb o’ that ogre, that’s what!”

Saaira gave a faint smile. “Well, then I am glad I have helped. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, toots!” Phrazzic grinned. “Now, judgin’ by this line o’ questionin’, I’m guessin’ yer sister don’t trust ya much, eh?”

Saaira shook her head. “She does not. I had assumed it was because she disapproved of my current state--that I am now undead. But…”

Phrazzic tilted his head after Saaira’s pause lasted a few moments longer than he expected. “Buuut…?”

“...but it was because I had betrayed her years ago. I had… forgotten. It was a choice I had made, like you said, to leave her and return to our mother. I turned on Rephaia, and I died by her hand. I think the memory of that event has been festering in her heart since.”

“Wait, so she’s the one who killed ya?” Phrazzic raised an eyebrow.

Saaira nodded.

“Huh,” the goblin pursed his lips. “That’s not one I woulda assumed, but okay. Things are makin’ more sense now, I guess. But you two gotta go and make it up to each other, right?”

Saaira’s brow furrowed. “I believe I need to make it up to her, but I do not know what she owes me. She is correct in her anger, I think.”

“Well, she did kill ya,” Phrazzic pointed to the draenei. “I think that makes things pretty even in the past. You twos gotta make up for all this stress yer puttin’ on each other now, though. Gotta worry about who the two of yous will be today. Do ya let the anger boil and fester like The Rokk’s soupy surprise? Or do ya kiss and make up? Figuratively, of course. She is yer sister...”

Saaira frowned at this, and rested her chin on her knees. “I do not know, Phrazzic.”

“S’okay! I know enough for the both of us!” Phrazzic grinned a toothy grin. “And here’s what I say: Go. Return to Azeroth and find yer sister again. Try to make things good between the two of yous. It won’t be easy, judgin’ by what I judged from her earlier, but it’ll be worth it in the end, eh? Trust me on that one.”

“I trust you, goblin,” Saaira sighed. “Sometimes against my better judgement.”

“Yeah, well, that’s yer best judgement talkin’, there, lady. It’s a step better than yer better judgement.” The goblin’s grin grew wider. “Now, c’mon, let’s get back to workin’ on the golem. I’ll loan it to ya when you head back until I finish the other one. I saw that shiny one yer sister has. Ya needs somethin’ equally as impressive!”

Saaira turned to regard the little goblin mechanic / hoof-shiner for a moment, then she nodded. “That would be good, I think. Thank you.”

“Say nothin’ of it, toots!” Phrazzic stood and bowed. “Actually, maybe say a few things about it, right? I could use the reputation boost.”

Saaira smiled and nodded.