Sallo Fargrove

The story of a kaldorei in search of eternal balance and inner peace.

[warcraft-art-unlimited]

Night Elf Archer

[Artist: jiang lai ]

https://www.artstation.com/joyce_jl

[fargrove]

In remembrance of Sallo’s little acorn who died defending her people. This is a good reference for her.

[fargrove]

The Precipice

The war within Darkshore raged on in its stalemate with no path in the forest being safe to take. It had only been hours prior that Sallo had learned of his daughter's demise but already he had tasted bloody revenge.

Stalking through the trees, the kaldorei's unblinking scowl looked nowhere but forward, daring anything to step in his path. The disciple of balance and perfect harmony had turned cold, wishing for those responsible for his sorrow to step in front of him so that he may make then suffer as he did. Behind him was a dotted trail of dark crimson that oozed off of both of his hands. Both leather gloves were gone and in there place was the purple skin of his fists, darkened and shaking from pain and dripping with the blood of his victims mixed with his own.

There was no thought in this, no planning or ideas. Sallo only wished to take what he thought was rightfully his. He only wished to feed that newly formed hole in his heart where the unconditional love of his daughter used to be. He stopped and leaned his shoulder forward on a tree, letting his hang as he thought of her. That scowl softened and broke into anguish.

He had left her long ago in order to escape, to run from something that he knew he could not be. He and her mother had never had the spark of love in their relationship. To raise a child with her had been too much and Sallo ran, only seeing his daughter with years in between each visit. Yet, every time he came back, she ran to his arms with a wide smile on her face and no hint of resentment. She loved her vagrant father in spite of everything. She said that she wished to be strong like him. She became a sentinel to do just that and only ever wished to make Sallo proud.

Sallo breathed out. "I was proud...I was so proud of my little acorn."

The tree he leaned on splintered as a barbed arrow dug into it and Sallo stood up, ducking behind to the other side. Quick breaths faded along with his longing memories. Sallo now only thought of the Horde, the enemy, the monsters that took his happiness away from him, his little acorn. The kaldorei's mind went cold and he simply stared forward as another arrow flew just past his head to disappear into the forest.

Sallo looked down to his pained and shaking hands. He could feel the chi within him leaning on the edge of his violent thoughts. His balance was fading, and with it, his chi. However, he had no care for that. His eyes closed along with his fists and white sparks began shooting out from them.

From the other side of the tree, an patrol of Horde slowly closed in on where they saw the elf duck away with their weapons drawn. They had him surrounded but halted as a flashing white light flickered from the other side of the tree. In a flash, a manifestation of a brilliant white tiger speed out around the tree flanked by the very elf they hunted, his visage almost as ferocious as the tiger's.

Arrow and blade were wasted upon the beast, moving through it without harm as it roared and violently tore through the soldiers. Those who fell victim to it were charred and seizing on the ground, white sparks moving from their gored flesh. At the other side, Sallo was perhaps even more of a threat. His fists moved without mercy, striking and breaking bone after bone. He moved without thought for his own well being and only cried out for the death of all in front of him.

Sallo lunged forward and his grip took the thin neck of a sin'dorei, her green orbs going wide and her bow falling to the ground beside her as she was lifted into the air. She struggled for air and her hands tugged at Sallo's arm. Fear was filling her eyes and they looked back to Sallo's cold stare, pleading. Yet, the night elf did not move. He watched her flail, watched her squirm in his grasp and reach out for any hope. He heard her choked words that tried to beg for her life but none of this changed the statue that Sallo had become. His grip was iron and unflinching.

He could have ended her at any moment with a simple movement of the hand to break the column of her neck. He did not. He watched for what felt like minutes as tears fell down her cheeks and her cheeks became a deep rose color. The kicking stopped. If Sallo looked back on the memory of this night he would be unable to say when exactly the sin'dorei's life had faded as he was still holding her corpse aloft for some time, staring at it without remorse.

Only when he felt his body begin to shake did the female finally slump to the ground in a heap. Sallo gripped his gut and grunted in pain as he turned around. His eyes widened. The glowing white tiger, a manifestation of his chi, was stalking around him with barred teeth and arcs of lightning moving in every direction. Sallo backed up slowly, confused. He put a hand out as if to calm the beast that was out of his control but it did little more than draw an angry gnashing of teeth. The tiger's eyes were not steady. They twitched like a rabid beast's.

The chi spirit roared savagely and lunged at Sallo, the area lighting up in a blinding light. Sallo put an arm up to shield his eyes, readying to feel a shooting pain in his whole body that never came. He blinked open his eyes to look forward. The tiger had vanished into a mist just before hitting its creator. Sallo breathed as he looked around, still holding his abdomen with one hand. He knew what this meant, what had happened, because he could feel it. He felt his chi that had tipped over that precipice of sorrow that upset his balance. It's power distanced from him and all of the bruising pain along his body was all too apparent.

As Sallo carefully made for the shore, he knew it to be true. His balance was gone, and with it his ability over his chi.

[fargrove]

Legacy

After having departed from the Lady Malevolent and informing Vinarei that he would return the next morning, Sallo stood among survivors of the current war in Darkshore. His steps were steady and his expression neutral as always while he made his way down the docks and into the island village of Rut'theran that was being used as a recovery center for those returning from battle. On all sides he gazed at kaldorei caring for their kin, many in dire states and in need of healing while others had that fateful sheet pulled over their heads.

Sentinels, priestesses, druids, no one had been spared in the defense and it was a horrid sight for the spirit. Still, Sallo kept calm and did not let his emotions run away from him. Instead, he looked for familiar faces, anyone who might be able to direct him towards his daughter. Almost every sentinel he spied was far too busy or preoccupied to point him to one of their sisters.

Then, he saw someone he absolutely recognized. Sallo stopped in his tracks as he saw Jetha sitting on the steps of one of the huts towards the outside of the village, her hands clutching her arms as she looked towards the dirt at the bottom of the steps. Her priestess robes were still white and pristine as she had not seen combat yet, likely staying within Rut'theran to assist with the wounded. Her expression was of utter exhaustion and defeat, eyes glazed and cheeks wet with a mouth hung slightly open.

Sallo steeled himself for a moment. He had hoped this meeting could have been avoided all together but it seemed he had little in the way of options. As he stood before her at the bottom of the stairs, he exhaled before steadily greeting her. "Hello, Jetha." The female's eyes focused on where they were looking and her mouth slowly closed, lips pursing. She looked up to him, her eyes still glazed but a scornful anger in them that could burn through a man.

She stood up gracefully and made her way down the steps, her eyes locked to his as no words were said. She stood just before Sallo's neutral expression, mere inches from him, and waited until his mouth opened to speak before a hand came up and slapped Sallo across the cheek with a loud crack. Her voice was cold but punishing in its low volume. "Our daughter is dead."

The words hung in the air like a knife above his head that threatened to fall at any moment. Sallo's eyes slowly widened and his mouth hung open in horror. His way, the way of the monk, was to maintain balance at all times, to not let any emotion, good or bad, overwhelm the rest. At this moment, Sallo failed in his teachings as he simply stared forward while Jetha moved passed him, disappearing into the rest of the village. Sallo's heart clenched and nearly stopped in his chest. All sound faded from around him into a simple muffle as he collapsed to one knee and leaned forward on one hand. "Our...daughter is..." were all the words that he could muster in a hushed tone. He could see it in his mind, his daughter, a newly graduated sentinel, on the battlefields with fear in her eyes as her sisters perished around her and the Horde descended to silence her screams and tear her apart with no regard for honor or mercy.

Sallo's eyes slowly lifted, breaths heaving through grit teeth as ho turned to look at the shores of Darkshore with one thing in mind.

Revenge.

(Mentions: @vinarei)

[the-voyager-kota]

Fighting Spirit

The Jade Forest, a long standing symbol of beauty and harmony within Pandaria and home of the Tian Monastery, a place of learning for new students of the ways of the monk. Being the most accepting to those that are not pandaren, races from all over Azeroth come to begin training either for self defense, spiritual enlightenment, or their own personal reasons. Master Hoon Dullhide, a brown furred pandaren, one of these classes by taking a group of students to a clearing in the forests just outside of the monastery. The class was entirely of novices and nearly all of them were of foreign races. The pandaren that were there were practically children and they kept up with the other students all too well, drawing some ire and embarrassment from the others along the way.

As Master Hoon spoke his lessons, walking back and forth in front of the dozen students that sat in the grass, a male kaldorei stood just behind him towards the treeline with his hands clasped behind his back and gaze looking over the students. The elf’s light leathers adorned with red feather and ropes were contrasted by the dark purple skin and the bright cyan hair that grew in a closely shaved beard and in a long ponytail behind his head. His expression was hard to read as it fell over those sitting, not stern or hardened but not showing any bit of affection either.

“Master Hoon, we don’t need a lesson why punching and kicking works. We came here to learn to do it!” A female voice piped up. A blonde haired sin'dorei sitting near the middle of the class voiced her impatience with the class being given. “Why did you bring us all out here? I learned a new technique yesterday and I was hoping to spar with the other students back at the monastery.” Master Hoon stopped in his pacing and merely smiled at the blood elf, a gentle chuckle answering her.

“Oh have you now? I would very much like to see it.” He turned to the kaldorei behind him. “Sallo, can I trouble you with sparring a round with our friend, here?” The kaldorei bowed his head.

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