Grace

White blossoms framed by red painted wooden structures. The air thick with cloying perfume and exotic undertones. An occasional fresh breeze that chilled the humidity gathered on your bare skin. If Maerciless had to describe Spring in Pandaria in one word, the first one that would come to mind would be beautiful, followed shortly by peaceful. In the deepest parts of its wilderness, quiet, and untouched. Here in its most populated town, the atmosphere was nearly buoyant. To the unbothered soul, it might seem to be the most perfect place on Azeroth. Maerciless shifted on the bamboo stool, scratching an arc into the dirt with her hoof. It was an obvious mark on otherwise well-cared for landscaping, and for a moment she rubbed at it with the edge of her hoof, trying to smooth it flat again. Her administrations in vain, she settled for covering the majority of it. Everything was so overwhelmingly perfect here, so full of life, it seemed no matter what she did, it was somehow infringing on that perfection.

The disaster that was the campaign of Serpent's Heart was several months ago, but the land still suffered for it. The natives picked up their steps as they scurried into the paved beauty of the town proper, and were reluctant to leave the relative safety of its walls. Trade suffered between the small clusters of communities, and the Pandaren were more likely to don armor or take a guard to travel. But even in the midst of what was surely a devastating blow, the Pandaren people seemed determined to take it all in stride. Maerciless watched the owner of a nearby food cart unfurl his banner with a flourish, and carefully set out a tray of free samples. She had observed this same vendor many times as the season had eased into the humidity of spring, and she knew he was a friendly boisterous man who would just as soon join you in a mug of beer and feed you for free from his cart, just to hear your stories of the road, than to charge you a copper for a meal. She twisted her mouth minutely: only one who knew her well would recognize the expression of humor on her otherwise stoic face. She wondered how the portly Pandaren could afford to keep his business open at all.

She let her gaze sweep slowly along the perimeter of the open courtyard. She was sure he operated the same way most of his fellow kinsman seemed to: through the kindness and giving nature of the Pandaren folk. Her penetrating blue eyes slid comfortably from one kind, rotund face to another as the natives gathered around the unmarked pathways of the main thoroughfare of the town of Dawn's Blossom. Even the name of their busiest city gave off a sense of beauty and hope. When she had arrived on the newly discovered southern continent, she had been leery of the altruistic attitude that draped the idyllic atmosphere like a thick fog. Surely a race that spent this much time concerned with others and keeping peace had something horrible to hide.

Maerciless's eyes focused on a smudge of peat across the top of her hoof, and she leaned down to scrub it off. The soil was rich and dark, and left a black streak across her leather glove. On impulse, she glanced up and over her shoulder at the mid-morning sky. It was lit with beautiful tones of deep, jewel blue and flickers of soft puffy clouds, but the seemingly perfect sky did not extend across her entire vision. She sat back up, leaning casually against the stone half-wall that ran behind where she sat and skirted most of the border of the marketplace. In a way, she had been right: the Pandaren people had something horrible to hide. Something that the encroaching armies of the Horde and Alliance had wakened from its slumber.

If one were to take a moment and admire the intense sapphire sky that seemed to grace Pandaria nearly every morning, one might notice that as you looked to the south, there was a portion of the sky that seemed not quite right. At first glance it looked like a storm cloud, although one that was abnormally stationary and circular. The longer one looked at it, however, you would notice little details that added to its strangeness: the cloud was not perfectly still, but swirled and circled in on itself, almost like a hurricane, but very calmly: there was no obvious wind blowing the jungle trees around. The cloud was off-color: not bloated with rain, or grey with snow, or big and puffy like a cluster of clouds sprawled across a lazy midsummer sky. The cloud, and in fact the entire sky in that area, was drained of color. It would be at this point, perhaps, that one would stand on tiptoe and try to get a good look at the land beneath the weather phenomenon. Here the strangeness of the region was pronounced: like the sky above, the land itself was in greyscale, as if everything that made an ecosystem thrive had been sucked dry of life. If you squinted, you just make out a dark crater in the center of the discoloration. The land directly around it was streaked grey and black, and even now, months after the explosion that had destroyed the Shrine of the Jade Serpent and set free the monstrous being known as the Sha, smoke rose out of the ground in a poisonous stench.

Maerciless examined the dark smear of dirt on her leather glove. Although the idea of imprisoning a creature by inactivity, almost by pretending it wasn't there, was a foolish plan in her head, she did understand the Pandaren's obsession with keeping their inner darkness away. The Pandaren people took a spreading, inky stain, and instead of cleansing it away, they threw a rug over it. They moved furniture on top of it. They covered it with more and more things until they did it without being aware of it, then when the rugs and the furniture was ripped away, the stain had spread and soaked in to an impossible level. And now it was time to scour the carpet and start anew, with a weightier view on life.

The death knight was brought out of her brooding thoughts by a crescendo in the noise that had been gathering in the marketplace. The sellers' stalls were packed tightly together now, filling up every available space. Maerciless sat up a little straighter on the bamboo stool she had drug to the very edge of the pagoda. The squat chair belonged to the pandaren woman who ran the open-air diner that occupied the apex of the marketplace. She was there now, greeting customers as she leaned on an old straw broom. She caught site of Maerciless on her missing stool, and her features stiffened up, although her generous smile stayed plastered in place. Maerciless raised one gloved hand in a lazy salute in her direction. Li Shao snorted once and nodded her head. Technically, the chair and the death knight perched on it remained on her property, and she did take care to order at least a cup of tea every day, so she was a paying customer. Li was distrustful of all the newcomers in her town, but especially of the ones that shouldn't be up and walking anymore. She tolerated the death knight's presence only because she kept quiet and did absolutely nothing to call attention to herself.

Although Li Shao appeared to only own the diner in town, the truth of the matter was that the enterprising Pandaren had her paw in every business in the area. She bought her vegetables from the farmers that frequented the marketplace, and they in turn made sure to grow the produce she required. The older ladies of the village gathered under her pagoda in mid-afternoon to enjoy a half-priced cup of tea and engage with Li in the art of town gossip. Li always knew the right word to whisper in an ear or the right paw to slip a coin into. She was well-respected, well-liked, and a bit feared. No one wanted to be on the bad side of Li Shao.

All of that wasn't of much interest to the death knight, except that the other townsfolk seemed to follow the matriarch's lead in their treatment of the unliving. It was difficult for Maerciless to find someone to repair her armor, and she suspected the food that she ordered came from the bottom of the pot. She took it in stride though. She was used to not being wanted.

A small commotion shifted the direction of the crowd from the far right entrance to the city, and grateful to be away from her thoughts, Maerciless stood to investigate. She rested her hand loosely on the pommel of her runesword as she walked, partially to remind the Pandaren people of her status as their guard, and partially to remind herself to focus on her business here. Absently she pulled down on the bottom of her breastplate to straighten it: it had been difficult for her to find a native willing to even speak to her about blacksmith work, and harder still to find one that would work with dark saronite. The results were adequate, although a little different style than she was used to, and the straps were stiff and tended to shift when she had been sitting awhile. For a moment she pined for her old, ruined armor: although she had acquired it just before the break from the Lich King, and she had already committed many atrocities in it before she was set free, it was perfectly molded to her shape, and she wore it like a second set of skin. There had been no salvaging it after the explosion though, and she had willingly given it to the Pandaren blacksmith to be melted down and made into the new piece. It would have to do for now. She wasn't sure when the Alliance would be done occupying this continent and she would be transferred elsewhere.

The crowd in front her shuffled and parted with many inconvenienced noises. Maerciless relaxed her grip on her sword. The commotion was nothing more than a unit of the Silver Hand traveling through town. As a one they all held themselves tall and majestic atop their armored mounts. Automatically she scrutinized every helmed face, and although there were several with the familiar blue-toned skin and horns arching back from high foreheads, her former partner was not among them. Feeling a little lost, the death knight stood to the side as the contingent slowly made its way through town. Near the back of the group, one human paladin gave her a double glance. She was shorter and a bit more disheveled than the other riders, and Maerciless wracked her brain to remember her name. The paladin's lip curled in a sneer just as the death knight remembered: Seraphyna, Aeschlie's friend in the Silver Hand.

“Out of the way, corpse,” Seraphyna growled at her under her breath, purposely leading her mount close enough to the death knight to make the horse skittish. Maerciless stood her ground, and trained her blue eyes on the human as she passed. As soon as the campaign at Serpent's Heart had ended, Aeschlie had requested immediate transfer back to the mainland. Maerciless had heard about it second hand, and there was no real explanation given, only that the devastation of the Jade Serpent Shrine had “gotten to her”. Seraphyna seemed to think that the death knight had something to do with it, and had gone out of her way to be hostile to her whenever she was passing through Dawn's Blossom. Maerciless's gaze followed the paladin unit as it passed through the opposite gate, out of the city proper. The obvious malevolence from her own allies was not unnoticed among the pandaren people, and it did not help their disposition toward her. Maerciless moodily knocked the mud off her hooves and retreated under the edge of the pagoda to escape whatever attention she had attracted.

A circular bamboo hat caught her as eye as the owner bobbed her way through the crowd in the marketplace. Unconsciously Maerciless stood up straighter and the petulance melted away from her expression. The hat bowed its way past the mid-morning shoppers and navigated in the direction of one of the Alliance tents set up along the side of the courtyard. The bamboo hat was no different than any other one worn by the many patrons in the marketplace, but the owner of this particular hat stood taller than the pandaren, and the hat sat slightly lopsided on her head, as if it were made for someone of a different profile. A small gust of wind tipped the hat back off of her head, and Maerciless caught a glimpse of Shirelle's flustered face as she made an floundering grab for it and ultimately lost it behind her. The death knight was several paces into the crowd before she realized she had even moved, and she made herself stop and watch as the priest recovered the bamboo hat from the ground and shoved it forcefully on her head. Shirelle caught sight of the the draenei standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd and gave her a shy smile and wave, before turning and maneuvering her way to the healer's tent.

Maerciless was sure if she still had the ability, her face would be flushed scarlet. She blew the air out of her nose, then turned and stalked towards the edge of town to make a sweep of the perimeter. She had to stop doing that. She knew she had a ridiculous over-protective nature. It had become a real problem between her and Aeschlie, even before she had been captured and turned. There were so few people that she trusted, and even fewer she cared about, that she went to ridiculous lengths to assure their safety. Right after she had been released from the hold of the Lich King, her mind was in such a turmoil that she had hyper focused on protecting Aeschlie, and it had kept her inner monster under control. In fact, giving up some of that focus was part of what contributed to her eroding mental state before the Battle of the Jade Serpent. After she had been saved by Shirelle in the aftermath, she no longer felt like she was barely holding a terrible monster in check, but somehow she had transferred that extreme vigilance over to the priest.

Maerciless angrily kicked at a bush as she headed to the southern gate of the city. It was a hat. She did not need to dash in and rescue Shirelle from dropping her hat. At least it was obvious from the look on the priest's face that she was confused at the death knight's actions. That ridiculous hat. Maerciless slowed as she passed through the arch that marked the edge of town. A pair of armored Pandaren guards, called Dawn Watchers, nodded their heads at her as she passed. She had been stationed in Dawn's Blossom for several months now, and even if she was not exactly welcome, she was familiar.

Shirelle's healing abilities had grown since the battle, and she had remained dedicating to helping others, rather than being in the midst of the patches of ongoing fighting. She was happy to be stationed at Dawn's Blossom, and she, along with the other healers, had set up a med tent in the center of the marketplace so they could treat anyone who needed it, and maybe prove their good intentions to the natives in the process. Shirelle was overly concerned with trying to win over the Pandaren, hence the bamboo hat. Maerciless had tried to gently point out the obvious racial differences that the hat didn't hide at all, but the priest could be quite stubborn in her own right. She wore the hat nearly every day, and although she was quickly gaining popularity among the city inhabitants, the death knight was sure that was due to her compassionate nature and skillful healing, rather than anything she did to try and fit in.

The draenei turned from the path and started a circuit around the border of the city. That was another reason to keep her distance from the priest. Thus far, Shirelle had been one of the few soldiers who had been accepted into the Pandaren community, and she didn't want to jeopardize that, either from a military viewpoint, or a personal one. She was certain that if the natives knew of the true nature of their relationship, they would shun Shirelle just as they did her. Maerciless shook her head and ran a hand through her unruly black hair as she approached the western gate. Not that she was completely positive what the true nature of their relationship even was.

Maerciless had stopped walking and was so lost in thought that by the time she realized that someone was shouting behind her, they had already done so twice.

“Help! Please!” Instantly on alert and cursing her distraction, the death knight ran toward the noise just as three young pandaren tumbled out of the underbrush. One girl, an older one, was pulling a younger boy along by his underarms. She was the one crying: the boy appeared to be unconscious, or at least Maerciless hoped. The other girl, shorter but bossier, was the one yelling for help. She spotted their rescuer just as the death knight reached the group, and her mouth dropped open in fear. Maerciless made herself slow down; for all these children knew she was just as much of a threat as what had attacked them. She kept her hands open in front of her as she knelt down to their level.

“What happened?” Maerciless asked the oldest girl. She appeared to be too distraught to wonder if the death knight was friendly or not.

“It's my brother, Len,” she gasped through her tears. She sat down abruptly in the grass and held the boy's head in her lap. Maerciless could see exhaustion through the terror on her face, as if adrenaline alone had given her strength to carry her brother this far. She felt along his neck, hoping that pandaren were built along the same lines as the other races of Azeroth. She was rewarded with a faint heartbeat under her fingers. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, which was encouraging, but on his legs were deep scratches that looked like claw marks. Whether he was knocked unconscious or just fainted, he needed medical attention.

Maerciless took off her light cloak and laid it over the boy. “Were you attacked by an animal?”

“The Jade Witch sent her cats after him!” The older girl's voice rose in hysteria as she spoke. Her green eyes were wide with fear as she implored the death knight. “Me and Len and An and Shin went down to the Jade Witch's place and she tried to kill us! You have to help him!”

Maerciless tucked the cloak around the boy and picked him up, cradling him awkwardly against her breastplate. He was lighter than she imagined, about the size of a gnome. She turned to his older sister.

“Run ahead and tell the guards we are coming, and that we need a healer.” The pandaren girl sniffled loudly and dashed off in the direction of the city. Maerciless started to follow when she felt a tug at her arm.

“Wait!”

She looked down to see the smaller girl standing behind her. Her pink flowered tunic was smudged with dirt, but she had a stubborn look on her face. “My best friend Shin was taken by the Jade Witch. I know you're not one of us, and Granny Shao says you're not natural, but I need your help. Widow Greenpaw turns cubs into jade, we saw the statues!”

Maerciless raised her eyebrow at the child's description, but otherwise ignored it. “I have to get this boy to Dawn's Blossom first. He needs a healer.”

The girl's eyes filled with tears. “But I was the one who made Shin go! He was too scared to go, but I dared him, and then he had to. It's my fault the Jade Witch has him!”

Maerciless felt the desperation and determination rolling off the girl in waves. It was likely, that if she did not help her, than she would return to the jungle alone and possibly meet her death. She looked the girl square in the eye. “What is your name?”

She sniffed back her tears. “An Windfur.”

“An, we must take this boy to town first, but as soon as he is safe, I will go find your friend. Can you be brave and show me the way to the Jade Witch's house?”

An wiped her nose with her sleeve and pulled herself up straight and tall. “Yes ma'am, I remember the way.”

Maerciless nodded her head. “I will find your friend and bring him back safely.”

The guards met them halfway to the western gate, with Shirelle and another priest trailing behind. The draenei caught her breath as she saw the state of the pandaren child, but a quick check of his eyes and head seemed to relieve her.

“His leg wounds are bad, but he doesn't seem to have any head injuries.” Shirelle's eyes were all business. “Can you bring him up to the infirmary?”

Maerciless shook her head, and instead handed the boy over. The other draenei caught him easily, and gently cradled his head against her shoulder. “There is another cub trapped in the woods, I am going to recover him. This little girl is going to show me where.”

“Yes ma'am,” the girl cub said solemnly.

Shirelle gave her an odd look, meeting her eyes and then off to the side. Maerciless got the feeling she was avoiding her gaze.

“Wait here a minute.” She carefully handed the boy off to the other priest. “Jayne, please take him back to the infirmary and clean up his legs. Tell Healer Tellaron I'm going along on the rescue mission.”

Maerciless opened her mouth, but Shirelle was already speaking quickly to override her protest. “If this cub was so badly injured, the other might be worse. You'll need my help.”

The death knight pressed her mouth into a line, but turned to An, who was bouncing on her toes with impatience.

“Lead the way.”