A talk with a friend

Avonar stood in the Purple Parlor, high above Dalaran. He came here often to get away from the hustle and bustle of those whose business it was to save Northrend from Arthas. The view over the city soothed him, with the sky so close it felt like he could reach out and drag his fingers through the clouds that were tinted pink and purple from the setting sun. The mages that also frequented the Parlor knew by now that the priest valued his solitude more than their company and did not go out of their way to try and engage him.

When Avonar looked to the north, he could see Icecrown Citadel. He could pick out Mord’Rethar and even the mountains surrounding Ymirheim. Yet his eye kept returning to the Lich King’s stronghold. The time would come when the people who had come to Northrend would stop cleaning out Naxxramas time and time again. When they would stop making friends with the population, gaining their foothold on Arthas’ terrein and strike. Avonar had been to the Caverns of Time, had assisted in the Culling of Stratholme. He had understood why Arthas chose to cull the city - and he understood why Arthas had to be stopped.

Sighing, he turned away to check the gear that he had stowed just inside the doorway of the Parlor. While a holy priest required more in the way of reagents, a shadow priest had more gear to carry - one needed to be prepared for many eventualities. Gathering it up, he took the portal down to Dalaran proper, to sit in the Legermain Longue.

Avonar ordered a drink from the bartender. The bartender took in his long tangled hair, his long ears covered in soot and the tattered gear. Yet when the man noticed some of the gear and where it was from, he brought the drink. When it was brought, however, Avonar simply let it sit in from of him, drops of dew forming on the edges. He started when a human woman took the chair across from him, then started again when he saw who it was.

“Lori?” he ground out, his voice gravely from being used so seldomly.

Loriana, Stormwind noblewoman, human priest extraordinaire, his former mentor and his friend, flashed him a quick smile then asked the barman for whatever he was having. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said. She’d always had a way with him, a way of making him smile when he was taking things too seriously.

“Elune be pra-” Avonar said, cutting himself off. “It cheers me to see you alive and unharmed, my old friend.” They could both hear the question in his voice.

Lori sighed. “Yes, Avonar, I truly am unharmed. My family called me home to Stormwind as my father was sick. I had to go - but as you see, I have managed to return to fight.” She paused, taking a sip of her drink. “I haven’t seen you since we were clearing out Serpentineshrine Cavern. Did you finally manage to kill that Vashj creature?”

Avonar allowed a small smile to creep onto his face, though it was half hidden by the shadow of his tangled hair. Taking a small measure of pride in his appearance in the presence of a friend, he tucked the now white strand behind his ear. “That and more, Lori. We slayed Illidan himself.”

“Ever short of words, weren’t you, Avonar?” Lori laughed softly. “It looks like you’ve had a hard time since - however did you manage to turn your hair white?”

Avonar tossed his hair back over his shoulders uncomfortably. Typical of Lori to comment on the small changes and not the large. “From healing all of those mages who thought they could tank,” he tried to quip, but the joke fell flat.

Born and bred a lady, Lori would not push him, he knew that. Unless it was a matter of life and death, she preferred to handle matters delicately. He sighed, deeply. Avonar looked up for the first time, meeting her eyes. “It’s good to see you,” he repeated, taking one of her hands in his. She smiled at him, but waited to hear him out. She truly was a dear friend to him - she had been his first mentor when he started taking on Karazhan and the like. She was the one he had competed against to become better, she was the one that he had formed such a strong team with. She was the one who was a friend to this day, while the others had disappeared on the wind. And she was one who deserved to hear the truth, not simply be brushed aside as he had so many.

“Elune… Elune called me,” he said, struggling with the words. “So many years ago, when I wanted to be a warrior, she called me to the way of the priest.” He stopped and took a ragged gulp of his drink. He hadn’t told anyone this before. “It was strange, for her to call one who had already chosen a path, even stranger for her to choose a man instead of a woman. But it was Elune and we do not question Elune.” Lori nodded at him, quietly encouraging him to continue. “I went to her, as I was bid. I learned the art of calling on her to heal those who needed it and to defend myself in my own times of need. And ever did I keep up with my own weapons training.” He paused. “I did all that she ever asked of me.”

It was obvious to Loriana that something more had been asked of him, something that Avonar - true hearted, solid-as-a-rock Avonar, couldn’t handle. That he couldn’t handle it disturbed her deeply. But she simply allowed him to continue to hold her hand, waiting for the story.

“We had cleared all of the obstacles that Arthas had laid against us here in Northrend. I was a good healer. I was! I saved many lives, I studied to learn more. Yet… Elune called upon me to change my path once again.” His voice went low with disgust, self-loathing. “She told me to turn to the shadow.”

Loriana waited. He had all the clues about him that he had turned to the shadow. She wanted to know why, though, what would change Avonar so deeply to have him so distressed.

Avonar choked out the next words. “She told me to seek the ways of hurting others. To forsake my training in healing but to go out and hurt!”

“There are many shadow priests in the world,” Loriana told him. “Does being shadow make you evil? Or dirty?”

He bowed his head again, the long white hair falling down around his face. Softly, he admitted, “I enjoy it.” He took a deep breath, but refused to meet her eyes. “I enjoy watching Arthas’ minions crumble into dust. I enjoy watching them scatter when the darkness surrounds my hands.” He swung his gaze to hers, his eyes burning. “What kind of creature am I to like it?”

The other priest started back, starting to recite the prayer for a shield automatically, then dropped it. She looked around to see many of other patrons staring at them, but she ignored them and returned her attention to Avonar, whose gaze hadn’t wavered.

“What am I becoming?” he asked, his voice soft.

A number of things had becme to clear to Loriana. The dishevelled appearance. The well worn gear. He had obviously followed his nature, done as Elune asked and had been accepting every single engagement he could. It had obviously cost him, too. The aggression and ferocity just below the skin of one of the calmest people she knew. It hurt her to see it, but there it was. And igoring it wasn’t going to help.

Avonar was nearly squirming in his seat now. He needed her to understand. Somehow. If she got up, walked away…

Lori tugged on his hands, pulling him closer to her so that they were nearly face to face across the small table. The drinks and the other patrons were long forgotten. Lori chaffed his hands, trying to bring some warmth into them, then took a deep breath. “Avonar, where do you learn your new spells?”

He pulled back a little bit, surprised. “Brother Joshua, in the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind. Why do you ask?”

“Would Brother Joshua ever countenace evil? Would he allow you to enter the Cathedral if you were evil?”

Avonar was stunned for a moment. “But Elune -”

“Elune is a godess of balance, as are many of the different gods and godesses within our world. Are you not still receiving your power from her? Simply in a different form?”

“I-”

“And can you still not heal when you need to? Would you still be able to heal if she no longer cared for you?”

“But-”

“She is a godess. She is your godess and has watched over you ever since she took an active hand in your life. I think she has a reason for changing your path.”

Avonar slammed his fist on the table, breaking off Loriana’s litany of reasons. “Elune is a peaceful godess! Everything she does is aimed towards piece. She does not fight! She heals, she does not wound! Why would she command me to do these things?”

Loriana studied the other priest for a moment. It was rare to see his emotions so bare on his face as they were today and she was determined to take advantage of the moment. Maybe Elune would help her lance this boil that was obviously devouring her most loyal priest. “I am not a priestess of Elune,” Lori admitted. “However, I think you need to step back and see what she really means for you. Perhaps you can do more good as a shadow priest. Perhaps certain boils in Northrend need to be lanced -” she smiled to herself -”before healing can commence. But this is not necessarily a bad thing.”

The priests stayed in that position, Avonar’s eyes softening as he listened to what she said, Lori nearly holding her breath as she tried to convince her friend that he wasn’t evil. She hoped he would listen, would take her words to heart.

She took another breath. “Are you killing innocents? Villagers? Or are you killing those in defense of these innocents?”

“You think I could kill innocents?” Avonar stared back at her, his voice full of sadness. “Do you think I have sunk that low?”

“Never,” Loriana returned vehemently. “The Avonar I know could never hurt an innocent, would go out of his way to protect an innocent with whatever means he had to hand. And I think the Avonar I now see before me would do the same.”

Loriana breathed an internal sigh of relief to see light coming back into his eyes, the light of hope. She could see something uncoiling in him - a loosening of his shoulders, a softening of expression.

“I do not take pleasure in killing things but I am afraid that this power will corrupt me to evil,” Avonar told her.

Loriana smiled. “I would not expect you to enjoy it - you are a priest, not a warlock. Though the feeling of mightiness against the dark forces in this world can be enjoyable, use your powers as Elune asks: justly and judiciously. I would worry if you enjoyed hurting things.”

Avonar picked up his drink and drained it. When he looked back at Loriana, his expression remained seriously. “Thank you, my friend. You have not solved all my problems, but you have shown where I need to start looking to solve them myself.”