Addiction: ad·dic·tion –noun, the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Azuremyst Isle. The name conjured an image of quiet serenity, a serenity that the land, torn through with the fallen shrapnel of alien spacecrafts, did little to reflect.

It was here that she had been sent by her people, a task, a journey to scout out and find what information she could on the newest of their recent opponents. A strange people, falling from the sky itself.

But she cared little for the sky, the earth, her people or her mission. Let them be what they would be, let them roam where they would roam. To her, there was little in her mind but the hunt, the kill, the coins that were due her for whatever unsavory task she'd picked up along the way. There was a dearth of unsavory tasks as of late, which was the only reason she'd agreed to this mission. It paid well. Far too well to allow to slip by.

She was one of the sin'dorei, the Blood Elves, the leftover remnants of what had once been a thriving nation of strong and powerful beings. Magic was in their veins, it coursed through their very beings, to the point where they craved it. Needed it. Most sin'dorei chose a life of magic, following the path their enslaved bodies naturally pulled them towards. She chose instead to be a thief. A rogue. The shadows suited her. Stark white hair cropped messily with a dagger when it got in her way, pale skin stretched across a lithe frame, she had little want or need for the sun - the sun only got in the way. And here, on this island, the sun rarely shone. Which also suited her.

She had found nothing as of yet that would be of any interest to her people. What she wanted to find more than anything that evening was something to eat, and thus she was on the hunt for a different sort of prey - the edible kind.

The deer she had chosen stood grazing atop a distant hill, with enough brush to conveniently hide her progress as she closed in on the creature. With silence cloaking her, she lifted her bow, aimed carefully...and the deer started and ran. Cursing under her breath, the rogue crept forward in an attempt to see what had frightened her dinner away.

Which provided the wolf creeping up behind her with an excellent opportunity to attack the distracted elf. Whirling at the last possible second, she dropped to her back, kicking her legs and propelling the wolf over her head, then rolled and stood, bracing herself for another attack. The wolf hungrily obliged, snarling and racing forward, she slashed, it bit, back and forth the dance went. She tired faster than normal, her body already weak with hunger, and as the wolf charged her again for the umpteenth time she felt her knees give way - giving a snarl of her own, she reached within, pulling every last ounce of energy she had left and managed to deliver a fatal blow to the wolf as it leapt for her, the body falling abruptly and knocking her back, landing painfully on her rump.

As she dragged herself to her feet, panting and wondering whether or not wolf would be an acceptable substitute for deer, the ground beneath her shook. In a moment of chaotic terror she tumbled as the earth collapsed beneath her, the ledge the two had been fighting on giving out under the force of her final landing.

The world spun in a mad whirlwind of color, and then there was only blackness.

--

He was a survivor first and foremost. Next, he was a paladin, a follower of the Light. After this, he was a solitary one, never too eager to hunt with the others or stay in the glimmering city his people had somehow managed to forge here on this strange planet. It was because of this that he had been sent, alone, to patrol and watch the borders of this island they had made into a makeshift home. It was a boring task, but it suited him immensely - he could help his people as he preferred, from afar.

When their home had fallen from the sky, he was certain that he would not survive - and when he awoke, blinking at the wan light of the island they'd careened into, there was a part of him, an angry part of him, that wished that none of them had awoken at all. The alliance with the creatures that already populated this planet was shaky at best - the night elves, humans, even the dwarves and gnomes immediately distrustful of his kind. And who would he be, to blame them? His people, so similar in appearance to those that had warred with these creatures time and time again, were strange, different, exotic to these creatures, and more than a little frightening. He himself was a rather dashing - in his opinion - member of his race, taller than most, four strong tendrils jutting from his chin, long dark hair that he kept pulled in a neat ponytail and out of the way, a strong, broad chest that bespoke his strength when crossed. It was rare that any crossed him, moreso now than ever.

He had taken up this post at his own request, wishing only to be alone, serve the Light as best he knew how, and try to rationalize, in his own mind, why they were here - and why their gods, in all their wisdom, had allowed this to happen to his kind. There were still many survivors awakening all the time - and still more dead to be brought in, counted, mourned. This senseless act made no...sense. The Light was all that was good, all that was pure and kind, and he was certain the answers he sought would be answered in good time, he merely needed to be patient.

And thus it was with a certain sense of dread that he heard the collapse of the cliff, near one of the ruined pods that he had made into a temporary home of sorts, and sought out what had made it fall. And with even more dismay, he happened upon the still form of the blood elf, lying in the rubble.

He stood over her, staring, considering, his eyes glowing grimly. She was so...small, smaller than he'd been led to believe. First there was a flare of anger, for it was her kind that had caused the accident in the first place - and then guilt at his anger. Her kind, the elves of this planet, had nothing to do with the elves that had sabotaged their home. And this elf, this tiny, pale thing, was in no way responsible for what had occurred. He shook his head. A paladin, a noble warrior of the Light was considerate to all species, and he had trained himself in the art of compassion - compassion for all creatures, regardless of background, origin, or species. Leaving the thing to die would be an act of callousness and unkindness that he could not forgive himself for.

Drawing himself up to his full, formidable height, he stepped closer, noting her careful breathing, and picked her up gently. It was moments like this, interacting with those not of his kind, whether elf or human or deer or bear that he realized how delicate this world and the beings on it truly were. Shaking his head, he bore her to his makeshift home, settling her comfortably on the bed within, checking to make sure she still drew breath, and then leaving to find both food and water for them both as he was certain she would need nourishment upon awakening.