Writing drabble under the cut since a few were interested while I have down time without a tablet. This was written sometime last year when I was working out more of that alt story with monk Vaard and how that paladin to monk switch came about.
For some context, this happens after his near death on Argus where his horn got shattered. He’s found by a few crane adepts who take him back to Tian monastery instead of the Army of the Light since they just get people back on their feet and throw them back out there and Vaard had a serious head wound.
Under the cut so you guys don’t have to scroll so much to get past it.
To say the least, Vaard was not a happy camper in the beginning lol
<><><><>
<>
<>
The hesitant, uneven clops of Vaard’s hooves sounded on each step of the stone stairs down to the training grounds as he carefully placed one hoof after the other, testing the surface before putting his weight on it. He was taking ages to get down the steps and he didn’t care who he kept waiting as he sightlessly felt his way down to the bottom with his hooves and the simple carved staff he’d been given.
He was sore, stiff, dizzy and his eyes stung from whatever they had put on gauze and wrapped over them in some attempt to save his sight but so far nothing they had done helped at all. They were dragging him out here with no help getting down to the training ring even though he couldn’t see. He didn’t see how this was going to help at all, he was as blind as anyone could be and didn’t know what they were expecting out of this ‘training’.
Master Zhi was standing in the middle of the training ring, patiently waiting and watching the Draenei cautiously make his way down the stairs. “Good,” he said once Vaard had finally reached the bottom, gripping the staff tightly and leaning on it like it was the only thing keeping him up. “Give it a few days and you’ll learn to rely on the staff more easily. Come.”
Grumbling to himself, Vaard headed towards the pandaren’s voice, his steps shuffling and uneven like he was going to run into something at any second. He never felt more helpless in his life, clinging to a piece of wood as his only means of not tripping and breaking what was left of his horn and neck all over again.
“You can stop there. Now, we bow and can begin. Not that direction, turn left, now you’re facing me,” Zhi said, his voice remaining calm, almost pleasant despite the scowl on Vaard’s face and his tail swishing in agitation. “All I want you to try and do is hit me. Don’t worry about hurting me, give me everything you’ve got.”
“How can I hit you if I can’t see?” Vaard shot back, not in any kind of mood to be polite.
“You have your ears don’t you? Use them.”
Before Vaard could respond, there was a sharp sting across his right shoulder, causing him to start and stumble back from the blow.
“You need to be faster than that.”
Vaard swung his staff in the direction of the voice, expecting it to make contact but instead swished through empty air, nearly stumbling his already unsteady stance.
“Too slow,” master Zhi said, striking Vaard in the shoulder again with his own staff. He would normally give his students a sharp rap upiside the head, but he had to be careful of the Draenei’s still healing wounds and his right shoulder was all he could safely hit.
Vaard whirled around, whipping the staff in Zhi’s direction again but as before, his staff continued on with nothing there.
“You’re not listening.”
“I AM LISTENING!” Vaard snarled, swinging angrily for the voice again but once more his staff met nothing in the darkness and another sting from the Pandaren’s staff whipped across his shoulder.
“No, you’re not. Listen.”
A sharp blow staggered him forward as the pandaren’s palm struck him between the shoulders. He tripped over his own hooves and barely caught himself with his good arm as his knees hit the stones painfully. His staff clattered across the training grounds which he quickly felt for, his hands blindly searching until he found it again and pushed himself back to his feet. He stood, clutching the staff completely disoriented now, his wounds and healing bones now throbbing worse than before. He didn’t know which way he was facing, where the pandaren was or even which direction the stairs were in. There was nothing in the darkness, no sound around him or a voice from Zhi to turn towards. He stood frozen, searching for anything to find a direction again now that the pandaren wasn’t talking. To his left he finally caught something, a quiet scrape, a subtle step of a wooden sandal across the stones and it was enough. He whipped his staff around towards the sound and it was stopped immediately with the sharp ‘clack’ of wood on wood, almost jarring the staff out of his hand.
“Very good,” said the voice, cheery, almost like a smile. “You listened. Now let’s start again, shall we?”
Aiami often makes time in her wanderings to return to the Monastery she trained at. Generally, it is pleasant. She retires her leathers and trains with the classes for a time, even helps teach. Tian is known for its feasts and celebrations, and she takes part in them heartily, catching up with friends and old masters.
Nothing could have readied her for the Legion’s attack. She knew something was wrong when the sky darkened, but when fel fire rained from above, her greatest fears were confirmed.
She fought hard, perhaps harder than she ever had. Aiami kicked and punched and flipped her way through Tian’s grounds, sending many demons back to the Twisting Nether.
It wasn’t enough.
At the end of it all, she wandered the ground. Rain dripped constantly from the brim of her hat, but it could not obscure the horrors she witnessed. Students, mentors, friends... bodies littered the Monastery. She mourned, and when she could mourn no longer, she helped gather the dead. She did one final thing before moving on and disappearing once more, to honor the memory of those lost.
“I did not wish to ever return to Pandaria. Or at least, not yet. But the Monastery is so peaceful, and reminds me so much of my time with the Order....that I do not mind so much being here.”
An exasperated sigh was clearly audible as one of the younger Pandaren chefs came grumbling back into the kitchen. “He’s at it. Again.” The irritation caught Ireul’s attention; both of his jade green eyes flickered up. “And this time, he’s not backing down!” Her light, blue eyes caught his own; with a soft rumble, the priest stepped back from the counter. “C’mon, old man! I’ve seen you do it before; can you make him stop?”
A tired chuckle was her answer, the priest brushing his flour-y paws off on his apron. “I will oblige you this time. In return, you will need to knead my dough until I get back. Do we have an agreement?” He didn’t seem to wait for an answer; hanging his apron on a hook, he began to walk out into one of the grand courtyards at Tian Monastery.
“I’ve taken all of you twice over! I’ll do it again, to, to prove I’m ready to graduate!” The boasting Pandaren was a particularly large member of the race; with the better part of a foot on Ireul and an expansive frame to match, he was intimidating at first. The priest was unphased; wearing nothing more than a loose canvas shirt without sleeves and a pair of cloth pants, he cleared his throat.
“Come, Tailung; let us sit down and eat. There’s no need for this.” As the larger Pandaren whirled around, the priest found himself the focus of a very irritated glare.
“I don’t need advice from a cook.” That grin was cocksure and arrogant; it was met with a soft smile from the priest. “Until you can knock me on my rump, I’ll--”
The next motion from the priest was a subtle one; his left foot took the brunt of his weight. “I will ask you one more time.” The warm edge to his voice faded a little, the normally soft tones hardening. “Sit down and act like a grown Pandaren, not a cub.” A motion caught his attention; Tailung’s red-furred paw was suddenly shooting forward.
The next few seconds was a blur to nearly everyone; with his stance solidifying on the ground, Ireul swayed to the left, letting the blow narrowly miss him. Both hands suddenly whipped up; one paw seized Tailung’s wrist, the other coming up to seize the attacker’s forearm. Pivoting on his left heel, he concentrated on hoisting the brazen Pandaren up and over him, bodily tossing Tailung to the ground. The force of the impact was felt by many of the observers; with the wind knocked out of him, the downed Pandaren could only blink up dazedly.
“Someone come get me if he needs another lesson in manners.” The warmth returned to his voice as quickly as it faded; ignoring the various questions and surprised looks behind him, the older priest began to return to the kitchen.
Donavin paused as he passed through the little house and stared at his Father, sitting at the table. Teir was drinking his coffee, hunched over it as if it were his lifeblood. In response Teir sighed with a little chuckle and looked up at his son from the table.
"Lardel is on his way here tonight to help me. You should let him examine you; how long since your last physical?"
"Three years and sixteen days."
Teir turned to look at Vin and smirked. "You're due. Don't go anywhere tonight."
"La'ret and I were going to do some studying..."
"It can wait." Teir turned back to his coffee, knowingly. "Lardel will be here in about an hour. He'll see you first."
"I feel fine, Father." He tried to convince him. He knew he was fine, he checked last night!
Teir looked to him, curiously. It wasn't like his son to dispute a request from his parent. The violet-eyed warlock didn't have to say anything more; Donavin quieted and nodded. "Yes, Father."
Teir took another drink from his hot beverage and looked at the empty seat adjacent to his and Vin moved to sit. The Shadow Lord was quiet a moment, enjoying the caffeine while his son sat still and waited. When he set down his empty mug, he could feel the evening becoming clearer with the promise of a surgical cleaning he'd been missing dearly.
Vin almost gaped at Teir when the warlock smiled at him. "Why don't you tell me about what you and La'ret have been working on? We all know you are our boy genius but I didn't think you'd take on a student so quickly. I'm proud of you."
Donavin sat up straighter and folded his hands on the table. They began to talk of magic and theories and Teir gave him his full attention the entire time they waited for Lardel to arrive.
