That dear dear girl. Thank you so much! Such wonderful friends I have - I am going to be totally self serving and share with you all something I wrote for Tyledres (which she has already read and edited) which is a story I wrote about her when she moved her toons to another server. I think it was the way she talked about finding a new home which was the inspiration - probably because belonging, family and friendship mean a lot to me.
Tyledres did not fear death. She had wreaked enough death in her lifetime – the one she could remember. Of her life before the Ebon Blade she remembered nothing. Who she was. What she did. She was human once, she knew that when she looked in the mirror. But this life, if you could call it that, seemed empty now, almost lonely. Tyledres knew that she probably did not deserve another chance after the atrocities she had committed as a servant of the Lich King, but she had done her best to atone for those sins. But how do you wash away the atrocities of the past when you are repeating it in someone else’s name? Tyledres needed counsel, but to seek counsel from a giver of life and death required one to BE dead.
Tyledres looked down from the mountain’s steep edge but to fling herself from it seemed meaningless, wasteful. Hefting her runesword, she called her Deathcharger and rode towards a small camp in the snow.
The sleet started to thicken while Tyledres gazed down at the occupants of the camp – The Mogu, stone guardian creations of the titans, were now cursed with flesh and determined to dominate this fair land called Pandaria. Tyledres felt a kinship with the Mogu– she was born in undeath, cursed with life. And now she yearned for a different life, a second chance – no, she corrected herself, her THIRD chance – if it could be done at all.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the frozen air flowing into her equally cold lungs. Quietly she drew her sword, her hands gripping the pommel and the flat of the blade against her forehead, and she whispered, runes glowing on her sword as she focused her frost magic abilities, making her an icy harbinger of doom, channeling runic power and delivering vicious weapon strikes. With this many enemies, she should have used blood, but she WAS trying to die, not live, but her death would have to at least take some enemies with her.
She leapt into the camp, surprising its occupants. Her first blow severed the mace arm of the first mogu, and on the upswing her blade slashed the throat of a second. Her armoured fist smashed into the face of the third who got up and she gripped her sword with both hands and plunged it into his chest and his moan ended with a strangled gurgle. The mogu within the tent started to come out as they heard the sounds of battle, but there was still a chance Tyledres would still come out the victor. She stooped to pick up the severed arm and she lobbed it to the far end of the camp to land amongst the mogu seated there. She then deathgripped another mogu from the pack beside the tree who had not yet noticed her presence. Within seconds, another ten mobs were on her, including their captain, a mogu sorcerer who stood out of her reach, casting shadowbolts against her unprotected back. Tyledres spun and parried a blow from one mogu who had a wicked looking spiked mace while she sent a Howling Blast at the five attackers on her right. She grunted as a shadowbolt blasted her in the chest and she fell back against a rock. Rolling to the right Tyledres managed to avoid a mace as it smashed down on the boulder where her head had just been. She swung her two hander in a wide backhand arc slicing through living flesh while howls of pain filled her ears as the battle fever took over her. She brought her gauntleted arm up, deflecting the downward blow of her enemy and knocking the force of the blow into the face of his fellow mogu beside him. Again her sword whistled through the air causing her enemies to step back out of her sword's reach. As she activated her antimagic shell she threw a death and decay on the ground and advanced upon the sorcerer. Two more mogu fell to her blade, icy crystals forming on their wounds from the frost magic she wielded, and blood dripped from her sword onto the snow.
Her head snapped to the side as she took a mace blow to her helm. She turned blindly to the attacked side and Obliterated her opponent, nearly cleaving his body in two. Another mace blow came down with force on her left shoulder, and she felt her bones break, leaving only her right hand to swing her sword. She cast Icebound Fortitude and ice crystals coated her armour and skin reducing the damage from the blows she was taking. She cut down another warrior with her sword and was left only the sorcerer.
She was already weakened from the blow to her head and her arm hung uselessly by her side. She was tempted to summon a ghoul to assist her but she was determined to do this alone. She leapt at the sorcerer, her right arm bringing the sword in an upward arc that sliced across his belly and chest, interrupting his spellcast. He dodged her next sword thrust and stepped back to begin another spell cast. Tyledres brought her arm back to deliver an overhand blow that would sever his arm when a sharp crippling pain in her legs brought her to her knees. The sorcerer unleashed a void zone where she fell and she was unable to drag herself from the searing magic which was rapidly draining away her life by the second. Time seemed to slow and she saw a figure in the distance watching her. Tyledres hoped that figure wouldn't stop her from her goal. The figure stepped forward and engaged the sorcerer and the mogu warrior - it was a dwarf hunter - the last thing she saw before the sweet arms of death claimed her and all the pain melted away into the darkness.
The world between worlds was devoid of colour, the landscape varying shades of grey... and fuzzy. Tyledres looked up at the translucent spirit healer who levitated gracefully above her body. The spirit's wings undulated gently but in the realm between worlds there was no wind, no feeling, just... peace. A soothing, lilting voice spoke within her mind.
"It is not yet your time, I shall aid your journey back to the living."
Tyledres opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Of course, she chided herself. I am dead. She used her mind to speak. "Spirit healer, I do not wish to return to this life and yet it is not my time. I would ask a boon of you - can I claim a new life, a new beginning?"
The spirit healer's empty eye sockets turned to look at her beneath the hooded cowl. "This... is an irregular request from you, Tyledres of the Ebon Blade."
"I was brought to the realm of the living by a Val'kyr Battlemaiden. My life is a stolen one. All I ask is that you return me to a different life, to be reborn, if it is not yet my time to join Death. Reborn into LIFE, not this.. undeath that I have endured for so long."
Silence. Tyledres felt the denial of her request weighing heavily on her like a stone (redundent, repeating that there's a weight). She had thrown her life - no, her undeath - away for no reason at all.
"Your request has been considered, Tyledres," said the spirit healer. "I will grant you this life you desire. You will be surprised to know it is not an uncommon request."
Tyledres felt a spark of hope unfurl within her.
Tyledres had already made up her mind. She had seen the conflict in Pandaria from the Alliance perspective - Garrosh, the Warchief of the Horde, was a madman. There was little she could do against his madness as Alliance but perhaps as a member of the Horde...
"A goblin warlock. I wish to be a goblin warlock."
The world became brighter and brighter until all she could see was blinding light. She squeezed her eyes shut...
... and when she opened them she was in a small goblin town, the acrid smell of oil and grease in her nose and the sting of smog in her eyes. The raucous sound of goblin chatter as they haggled over... something. And the sun....
Tyledres turned her face to the sun, feeling for the first time in her living memory, its warmth on her face, the sun's carress tingling her skin. She put her hands to her cheeks and laughed in delight.
This must be happiness, she thought to herself as she looked down at her green hands. And I am happy to be ALIVE.