Isa Backstory2

Current Events
(Work in progress. This is approximately... Five-six years from when the backstory ends at this moment in time.)

Inner Demons
Isa couldn't sleep. She had been trying lately to rest. The continued insistence of the others in the guild had set her onto a more regular schedule. There was no use in continuing to fight when one's engine had run dry. But the peaceful repose of sleep escaped the mage. She stared at the ceiling of the Legerdemain, her hands tucked behind her head. She worried her lower lip subconsciously as she was wont to do when she was troubled.

No matter how many times she tried to put it out of her mind, no matter what she did to try to focus on other things.... her mind kept returning to one thing: the Caverns of Time.

Isa always took Kaudri's advice to heart, and she tried to do so again. Its for the best. I'm sorry you had to go through it again, but perhaps there was a reason. Isa shook her head, throwing the covers off herself as she rose from the bed. She dressed quickly, the enchantments laid upon her armor sending the faintest of tingles up her arms. She had learned much, and grown much in the past year... and yet she couldn't escape the ghosts that haunted her dreams.

She thought herself lucky to have found people who cared for her so fiercely; a new family. Everyone in the group had lost, or suffered, or faced some sort of shadow in the past. But the opening of the rift in time had ripped the scabs from Isa's newly healed wounds. The day she tried so actively to forget... now she could return to. Again, and again. No longer reliving it in nightmares, but truly reliving it in all its visceral reality.

It was not self pity, nor self loathing that fueled her movements. It was neither vengeance nor hatred. It was a need, a yearning, an emptiness that fueled her desires on this evening. She moved with quiet determination, draping her cloak around her shoulders as she descended the stairs and moved into the streets.

Dalaran never slept, which suited Isa's restlessness. She walked down the street, gracefully dodging the crowds that still gathered: drunken conversations and bawdy laughter coming from groups gathered on the corners. A long day of fighting usually ended in a long night of drinking. She moved around the groups, her hood pulled low over her face, staying close to buildings to avoid both recognition and conversation.

The citadel shone despite the darkness. Dalaran seemed to shimmer, its beauty all the more tangible in the shadows. She ascended the steps, bowing regally before Rhonin and Vereesa before making her way to the portal. The air shimmered and swirled as she stepped through.

The instant change from Northrend's icy winds to Tanaris' desert heat never failed to take Isa's breath away. It was still a dizzying change despite the lack of sun. She accepted passage to the master's lair and moved around the gaping cavern with that same quiet determination.

It was cruel in a way, the way that the buildings seemed to leak their way from the rift. Her city. Her home. Not the plague-infested burning wreckage of it... but the city itself. She tried her best to ignore the pangs of dread as she pushed through the rift in time to the past.

She moved up the makeshift stairway to the disguised dragon. Chromie smiled up at Isa, her gnomish eyes holding unfathomable wisdom.

"We meet again, time traveler," Chromie said brightly. "Alone this time."

Isa nodded mutely.

"Well, then your task will be difficult. You already know about the Infinite Dragonflight. They seek to disrupt the past by influencing Arthas. Already they have hidden the plagued crates of grain in an attempt to stop the culling. Use this arcane disruptor to remove the enchantment and expose the crates. Then Arthas can begin the Culling," Chromie handed Isa a small device.

Isa took it, slipping it into her pocket and nodding. "I understand."

Chromie watched her for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "The consequences of Arthas not continuing with the culling are dire. Mal'Ganis intends to-"

"I know." Isa cut her off, raising a hand as she turned on her heel towards the stairs. "Armies of undead. The plague taking over the city. Arthas has to do what he can to save the kingdom. For the good of Lordaeron, right?"

Chromie seemed to be calculating for a moment. The gnome put her hands on her hips indignantly, "Do not attempt to alter the past, young time traveler. It can have dire consequences."

Isa nodded and continued up the stairs.

It was a blow to the stomach, stepping into the past. The Redpaths, alive and well. Fras Siabi laughing with Hearthsinger Forresten... the familiar voices of James and Mal. Isa closed her eyes for a moment, catching her breath. She wanted to run up to them and wrap her arms around their waists, embracing them and allowing the reality of the past to sink in... she wanted to tell them what was about to take place. But she had her own selfish motives at the moment.

If she was going to defy the bronze dragonflight, she might as well get what she came for.

She exited the tavern, looking around at the again-familiar surroundings. A suspicious crate of grain sat outside the entrance of the building. With a scowl, Isa removed the arcane disruptor from her pocket and silently laid it upon the crate. Quickly, she summoned her frostsaber and mounted up. With all the speed she could muster, she raced for the city. If the infinite dragonflight was intent upon delaying Arthas, perhaps she had a chance.

The wind blew her hair from her eyes as she rode, paws pounding on dirt path as she made her way to the gates of the city. Her city. It doesn't feel like home anymore, Lycentia had said. But as Isa neared the gates of Stratholme, her heart ached with the feeling of returning home. At the moment, Isa cared not for the fact that she was in the past. It was home. Her home, before the horrors that befell the city. The air smelled crisp and was cool against her cheeks. The hazy light of early morning lit the ivory stone walls with the lightest haze of pink.

The Lordaeron guard stood at the ready and Isa slowed as she passed them. A few nodded to her politely, some were immediately recognizable. Isa looked at each of the guards, each of the knights.... What would Vardann had looked like before this happened? What of Mae and Fitzlin?

The only face she remembered with certainty was Kaveric's. He was not among the guard, at least not positioned here. Was he still with Uther? Was he with Arthas? Isa chewed on her lip again as she urged the frostsaber forward.

The gates loomed ahead. Satisified that her brother was not among the front line, she continued on to the city. The longer she could delay the culling, the better. She remembered that it had been dark, and yet... the darkness must simply have been her memory. Morning had dawned on Strathome, and people were beginning to go about their daily business in the city. Familiar faces, familiar sounds... she paused, shutting her eyes against the past that surrounded her.

Tears threatened as she saw Emery Neill standing at the door of the Storm Crow Tavern. Memories of nights spent at the tavern, laughing together as a family ripped at her heart. She approached the familiar building, running her hand over the solid wood of the railing. Not in flames, not reeking with the scent of brimstone and disease, the tavern was just as she remembered it.

"We're closed today, miss. I can't risk it with everyone so sick," Emery called to her from the door. Had it been so long that no one would recognize her? Had she grown so much so as to be unrecognizable?

"I see," she said softly.

The sounds of the city surrounded her, and she walked with the faintest of smiles. If only it were another day.... a happier day. THe cobblestones of the pavement were all so familiar. She looked out at the King's Square fountain with a nostalgic sigh. It was so easy to get caught up, so easy to just stay here. She wondered briefly how long it would be before Chromie realized Isa was clearly no longer on task.

She walked with purpose towards Festival lane. If there was a chance, any chance, she would take it. She passed the florist, passed the small gathering of agitated citizens and walked straight towards Goodman's General store.

George Goodman was busy behind the counter, looking up in distraction as Isa entered the store. "We're about to close up, miss. Seems there's something happening in the city today." he said with a frown. "Everyone is sick."

"I heard," Isa whispered. "Mr. Goodman, can you tell me... has Kaelan d'Sylvere come in for work today?"

George shook his head once, "No, d'Sylvere's been out the last few days. Seems his daughter's come down with that affliction the others have. Poor thing, she's never been all that well. Such a frail little thing that Isa. Not like her brother. You know the d'Sylveres?"

Isa nodded quickly, turning so that her distressed features could not be seen. "I do. Thank you for your time," she muttered quicly as she curtsied politely and exited.

She knew he wasn't at work. How could he be, when he was home when Kaveric came to wake her? She rushed across the square towards the gate to Market row. Fumbling with her key, Isa attempted to unlock the gate.

The key was to no avail; the gate was locked to her at this point in the timeline. Her key worked on the gate in the future... She clutched at the bars of the gate, leaning her head against it as she succumbed to tears.

She didn't know why she wanted to see them one more time. Isa had told herself time after time that there was nothing she could have done to save them. But to be so close... through tears she struggled with the lock and slumped to the ground in defeat.

To be so close, and yet so far away.... Just one more moment, just one more glance and she would be appeased. She needed to know, needed to see. But the gate stood steadfast in the way of her goal. She knocked her head back against the solid steel bars once.

So many years had passed since this moment in time, these next few hours forever etched in the recesses of her memory. But she still had no idea what had happened to her family. Had her parents been killed mercifully? Had they fallen prey to Mal'Ganis? And what of her brother? She trusted Vardann's word in that Kaveric had lived to see the end of this battle... but what happened after? Why was there no sign of him anywhere?

Answers might lay on the other side of the gate. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead against her knees. The ghosts that haunted her mind now walked in the streets, not demons... not yet... She had some time, but not much. There had to be some way to get through.

A gentle hand was laid upon her head, and Isa looked up with a start. Concerned eyes looked down at her as Sharanya quietly sat beside her, slipping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "You should not have come back," she said simply. Anything Shar said had a melodious lilt, the draenic accent still heavily coating her words.

Isa leaned into her friend, allowing herself to let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "You shouldn't have followed me," she muttered under her breath.

"I am still responsible for all of you in the guild. You leave so quietly I knew you must have been up to no good,"  her guild leader smiled slightly.

Isa frowned, leaning her head back against the gate. "I just want to know, Shar. I want to see them one more time."

Sharanya shook her head. "And for what? To help them?  To save them?  What good will it do, seeing it all over again.  What good can you make of such a horrible night."

A long sigh escaped the mage's lips. She looked up at the draenei warrior desperately, "At least I would know. I am so tired, Shar...  I've spent so many years searching for him, wondering if he's okay.  Hoping my parents had a clean death and aren't still walking around like the others..."

"Again, I ask. You are here now.  What will you do?"

Isa pulled herself up on the gate, looking out towards the row. "Shar?" she dodged the question with a question, "If you could go back to Nagrand, to see it in all its beauty... just for an hour, even for a moment...  Would you go?"

Sharanya was silent, the warrior slowly getting to her feet. "No," she said finally. "No, I could not go. For I would never leave."

Isa continued to stare out at the empty street. She turned, taking in one last look at her city. "I just want to know, Shar. I need to move on with my life."

The smallest of smiles tugged at the draenei's features, "So let us get out of the past. No answers will you find, only old pain.  And possibly angry dragons."

Isa smiled wryly and shook her head. "Okay," she said, feeling defeated. She waved a hand, the air swirling and shimmering as a portal coalesced into existance.

"We all worry about you, Isa," Sharanya said, smiling with motherly concern. "We care."

"I know, Shar. Sometimes I worry about me, too,"  Isa said softly before they stepped through the portal.

Real Demons
Isa still hated Stormwind. Despite her attempts to spend time in the city, the mage never felt quite at ease. Granted, on most occassions she had visited the city, no good had come of it.

(omg sleep.)