Dismissed, pitied, and shamed following a nearly deadly attack by a Legion demon, Nikara doesn't feel welcome by her own kind. Even so, the blood elf paladin is determined to protect the Horde from all threats, including the Alliance. While seeking...
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Sitting atop the longhouse north of the herbalism tent in the Tauren city of Thunder Bluff, Nikara had a view of not just Elder Rise across the bridge from her, but the rolling hills of the land below the cliffs the city had been built upon. The sun was bright and warm upon her bronze skin but threatened to burn the tips of her short blood elf ears if she wasn't careful. A steady breeze from the south pulled strands of her thick, long blond hair free from the tie at the nape of her neck but she didn't concern herself with such things. The amber-colored eyes of the blood elf paladin scanned the area around her as she was ever on the alert for any threat. There was always danger lurking somewhere and after battling and nearly losing her life to the Legion, Nikara would never be convinced otherwise.
Sheathed upon Nikara's back was her great longsword, both edges sharpened to slice down any enemies she encountered as efficiently as possible. The strap of the sheath ran diagonally across her body from right shoulder to left hip and she occasionally pulled on it to reduce the pressure it was putting on the scar of the wound that had nearly killed her. The huge sword of a Legion demon had almost sliced her in two from collarbone down to pelvis and while the healers had managed to miraculously save her life after such a grave wound, the paladin's spirit had never been the same.
In an effort to distance herself from her past, Nikara had traveled to the Tauren lands because it was one of the few places the Legion had left untouched. Even with the Legion supposedly driven from Azeroth, the paladin was weary of being anywhere with remnants of their foul fel magic. The rolling plains and fresh breezes of Mulgore had been a needed change. She was relieved that the fel taint had been cleansed from the Sunwell, so her eyes no longer glowed the bright green that seemed only to remind her of demons. Perhaps if she stayed in Mulgore long enough, she would eventually recover from her experiences fighting the Legion, but she doubted it.
Thinking of the Legion made her scar ache and she frowned at her own thoughts. She wasn't wearing her plate armor due to the warm temperatures and the cloth shirt and pants she was wearing weren't pressing on the wound as her armor sometimes did. Sighing, she reached for her belt, pulled the small metal flask from the case strapped there, unscrewed the cap, and took a couple of swallows of the potent liquid. Although she'd tried numerous potions and herbal remedies to dull the pain of her scar, the only thing that ever seemed to numb the pain was alcohol.
Ever since she'd nearly lost her life, she'd been at least somewhat inebriated most of the time and that was one of the reasons she'd been "excused" from the Sin'dorei paladin order. She'd never truly felt welcome in their order because she was an orphan who'd fought her way into their ranks. Thus, she'd never experienced camaraderie with her fellow paladins. Such thoughts made her take a few more swallows of the spirits.
Replacing the flask at her waist, Nikara refocused on the world outside instead of the turmoil within. To her right, a tall windmill turned slowly in the breeze, the occasional creak of wooden gears marking its revolutions. Behind the windmill, the land dipped down into a small landing where a lone pine tree stood trying to grow tall enough to receive the sun beyond the shadows of the cliff. The blood elf could relate to the tree because she always felt she was in darkness seeking the light.
