A soloist, straddling, balancing on a poorly crafted leather saddle, the Draenei shaman sighs with reverberating restlessness. It is in her nature, her soul, to know what others are feeling, to take up axe or mace to fight and defend, and protect her own self interests. She can do this well, all on her own. Her wolves are fleeting, ectoplasmic allies. No feathered fellow shadow casts upon her mount. No connection or link at this hour. Thinking her own thoughts and keeping her own counsel. She finds trust...challenging.
On the ground, a young naive paladin is in over his head. These elites may prove to best him. No guildmates answer his call; they can't be bothered with this initiate, this amateur. Let him pay his dues, even if it means paying with his life, several times over. He puts the call out...not a yell, not a shout, but a request...simple and humble. Anyone out there...can help....kill elite?
She did hesitate. Just for a moment. But quickly remembered how difficult it was to find aid, assistance -- in a most dire hour. She answers his call, and is rewarded...with a friend and a champion...
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