We gathered at the base of the Ivory Tower, the full moon casting a luminous glow on the walls and creating eerie shadows upon the ground. For many years, Medivh’s secrets had been locked up tight inside Karazhan, but in the last year, the Kirin Tor mages have succeeded in entering the ancient place to plunder its knowledge. They could not do it alone, however, and they rewarded well those who would venture into the place and rid it of the spirits and ghosts that haunt the hallways.
And that is what brought us together tonight, members of the Order of Veritas, a loose organization of treasure seekers, scholars, and adventurers. Some were here for gold and glory. Others were hoping to prove themselves to the Mages, and not a few of us had hopes of scouring the Guardian’s extensive library for knowledge. But if we were to achieve our hopes, then we would need to battle through the specters. It was known to all that a demonic presence had taken residence at the top of the tower. Images of the tower’s past residents took offense to unwelcomed guests, and even though ghosts they may be, they defended their home with deadly force.
Many of us had been here before. Even when vanquished, the ghosts would find a way to return, causing much frustration to the Kirin Tor who wished to be able to study the building without paying adventurers to continue clearing the threats inside. Tonight was different though. There was a particular ghost that was haunting the section of the library that the mages had long suspected held Medivh’s greatest knowledge. The ghost of Medivh’s father Nielas Aran, who had died many years ago. How he found his way to the tower, no one could say. Even as a shade, he was in torment, and swiftly attacked all who came close the library doors.
After conversing with the mages, we made our way inside and began to make our way up the tower. Our party was made up of priests, paladins, and druids, a rogue, a mage, and even a shaman from the Draenei. I was the lone hunter. Lethan flew next to me, agitated as ever. Feeding him some meat from my pack to cheer him up, we pressed into the tower, eager to get to the library as quickly as possible.
The battles were quick and fierce. We wasted no time in dispatching the ghosts as we made our way through the ballroom and into the opera house. How this tower was able to house these expansive rooms, I cannot say. Perhaps some magic of the Master himself that still lingered on the building. Even in death, rows of ghosts reenacted their lives as they watched a play. The spectral actors however, decidedly disliked our presence on their stage, and we were forced to dispatch them. And their little dog too.
Continuing on through the now dilapidated gallery, we were nearly to our goal. Until now, the Shade of Aran had not been silenced. Some had tried, but they often found themselves nursing wounds and seeking the aid of priests. In life, Aran had been the court conjurer of the King of Stormwind, and a mage of the Kirin Tor, powerful in his own right. It seems he carried his extensive magical abilities with him, even in death.
At long last we approached the door to the inner chamber of the Guardian’s Library. Before even opening it we could hear the Shade ranting about his son and the torment he was in. He only wished for the nightmare to end. I suppose then that we were here to give him his wish.
We made our preparations and discussed the strategy with which we were to silence Aran. When everyone was ready, we burst through the door and spread out around the circular room.
“Who are you? What do you want?! Stay away from me!” yelled the ghost. Unfortunately, we could not do that.
The druids swiftly entered cat form, and along with the rogue, swiftly fell to swiping and cutting at the specter with claws and blades. I sent Lethan in screeching and clawing as I pulled the bow from my back and began swiftly firing arrows. Aran, like a madman began throwing all sorts of magic at us. Firebolts, frostbolts, and missiles of arcane energy flew around the room, slamming with powerful force into their targets. Our healers kept us alive, washing away the burns both hot and cold with the grace of the Light.
Without warning, Aran threw up his arms and screamed, “Burn you hellish fiends!” as wreathes of flame encircled a few of us. Having discussed strategy with past raiders of the tower we knew not to move, fearing the explosion that would occur if we did so. Having safely survived the Flame Wreath, we continued to assault the ghost, who was proving very resilient in the wake of our attack. He continued to bombard us with spells of every sort, even causing the room to fill with a debilitating blizzard. Through careful positioning we were able to avoid the brunt of the storm, but we were fatiguing, and Aran seemed more powerful than ever.
In an instant, the ten of us were sucked into the middle of the room next to Aran, and I felt as though I had blocks of stone tied to my feet as I rushed to get away from the mage. “I am not a simple Jester! I am Nielas Aran!” said the mad ghost. Eager to avoid whatever attack he had planned, I made my way to the edge of the room, but Lethan in his eagerness to kill the shade did not make it out of the explosion that occurred next. He fell to the ground, a crumpled pile of feathers. I rushed to his aid and began to use my abilities to mend him, but it was then that the Shade of Aran set his eyes on me and pummeled me with arcane energy. Soon I lay on the ground next to Lethan. Unable to lift myself up off the floor, I watched as the battle raged on.
Our quick thinking leader, a wise and strong Druid, threw a seed in my direction which landed on my body, sprouting with energy and life. Feeling reinvigorated and infused with the thought of my home in Ashenvale, I was able to rise once more and join the fight. Weakening further, Aran had called on four water elementals to defend him, but they were quickly taken down by our skilled team. I finally found a moment to revive Lethan until the healers took over, once again renewing our vitality.
It was not long before we were victorious, the Shade of Aran’s last exclamation of “At last the nightmare is over…” echoing in my ears. The battle had been long and arduous, but our triumph had paved the way for the Kirin Tor to study the rich works and tomes to be found in this library. I looked around at my fellow adventurers and scholars. Surely the mages would not notice if we took a few of the books back to our Order for study? We probably didn’t even need to ask.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tougher than I thought
Together with four of my closest companions, I walked into the slave pens beneath Serpent Lake and met with a representative of the Earthen Ring who was aiding adventurers in the battle against the Twilight Hammer cult. We prepared ourselves with the many provisions that we had brought and made our way down the corridor. The cavern, usually humid and muggy from the plethora of flora and fauna growing within, was instead a dank cold causing us to shiver as we pressed our way forward.
Before long we approached a large runic summoning stone, set in ice. The Shaman of the Ring were waiting for us here as well, providing a fire totem to help melt the defenses of the Ice Lord, Ahune. Many adventurers were seeking to assist, and many had been turned away, beaten and defeated. I silently prayed for Elune's favor as we set in motion the beginnings of an epic battle.
Alas, this day would not bring us victory.
Upon the melting of the icy stone Ahune burst forth from the frozen earth, a horrific being of cold and wind. Immediately we were beset on all sides by his minions of rock, air, and ice. We began to lay waste to the elementals, unable to attack Ahune directly while the Shaman used their knowledge of fire to send Ahune back to his vulnerable core state. Fierce bolts of ice struck without warning from the ground, tossing us aside as we struggle to keep focus. We fought long and hard, utilizing all of our skills and tricks picked up in our many fights. At times the battle would sway in our favor, and we could sense the Ice Lord weakening as we attacked his central being. But to our astonishment, he regenerated his defenses, and once more we found ourselves inundated with elementals.
Five times we would assault this fiend. And five times we were forced to retreat, regroup, and begin the attack anew. In the end, we could not muster the strength to defeat him. Sore and disheartened, we retreated out of the reservoir, making way for other brave adventurers to assist the Earthen Ring in their attempt to stop an elemental war. Perhaps Elune's blessing will be with them.
I must trust others to do the work where we failed, as the Crack of Dawn sets its sights on other challenges. We have been called to Honor Hold by Danath Trollbane to assist in the assault upon Hellfire Citadel. They are eager to put more pressure on the Fel Orcs who inhabit the dread fortress, and apparently the success of our ventures into the Steamvault and the Shadow Labyrinth has not gone unnoticed. I only hope the word of our defeat to the Ice Lord has not changed his opinion.
Before long we approached a large runic summoning stone, set in ice. The Shaman of the Ring were waiting for us here as well, providing a fire totem to help melt the defenses of the Ice Lord, Ahune. Many adventurers were seeking to assist, and many had been turned away, beaten and defeated. I silently prayed for Elune's favor as we set in motion the beginnings of an epic battle.
Alas, this day would not bring us victory.
Upon the melting of the icy stone Ahune burst forth from the frozen earth, a horrific being of cold and wind. Immediately we were beset on all sides by his minions of rock, air, and ice. We began to lay waste to the elementals, unable to attack Ahune directly while the Shaman used their knowledge of fire to send Ahune back to his vulnerable core state. Fierce bolts of ice struck without warning from the ground, tossing us aside as we struggle to keep focus. We fought long and hard, utilizing all of our skills and tricks picked up in our many fights. At times the battle would sway in our favor, and we could sense the Ice Lord weakening as we attacked his central being. But to our astonishment, he regenerated his defenses, and once more we found ourselves inundated with elementals.
Five times we would assault this fiend. And five times we were forced to retreat, regroup, and begin the attack anew. In the end, we could not muster the strength to defeat him. Sore and disheartened, we retreated out of the reservoir, making way for other brave adventurers to assist the Earthen Ring in their attempt to stop an elemental war. Perhaps Elune's blessing will be with them.
I must trust others to do the work where we failed, as the Crack of Dawn sets its sights on other challenges. We have been called to Honor Hold by Danath Trollbane to assist in the assault upon Hellfire Citadel. They are eager to put more pressure on the Fel Orcs who inhabit the dread fortress, and apparently the success of our ventures into the Steamvault and the Shadow Labyrinth has not gone unnoticed. I only hope the word of our defeat to the Ice Lord has not changed his opinion.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Fire and Ice
The Fire Festival is in full swing. People from every land have set out to honor the flames of the various Alliance held territories and towns in honor of the season. It is a celebration to be sure, though the festival does have its fair share of fire related mishaps and injuries. The Sisters at the Temple of the Moon have their hands full healing victims of burns from the recreational activity of "torch catching." Among all the merrymaking and pilgrimages however, looms a deeper secret, something that has only recently surfaced.
It started with a report of unusual activity along the Zoram Strand back in my former home of Ashenvale. At one time the beach was the site of a majestic Kal'dorei temple which was devoid of the evil Naga and cultists that linger amidst the ruins today. The temple had fallen during the great sundering of our world and has since been defiled by the Twilight's Hammer, who use the once sacred place as a summoning ground for their dark gods. The Earthen Ring, an organization of Shaman across factions, very similar in nature to the Cenarion Circle, was the first to discover that the cultists among the Zoram Strand showed signs of increased activity. These Shaman were much involved in the organization of the Fire Festival across the world, so it was fitting that they used this opportunity to spread word of the cultists to the adventurers and pilgrims that came to honor the fires.
Having recently finished my work for the denizens of Lower City, I took it upon myself to look for clues along the Zoram Strand as to what exactly these cultists were up to. As the area is often used as a proving ground for up and coming Night Elf warriors and priestesses, I asked my cousin Driya to accompany me. Driya is the niece of Salthier's wife, Lal. While that may mean we have no blood ties, we became fast friends when we met, and she was recently inducted into the Order of Veritas along with her Aunt and Uncle. Together we scouted the strand, and before long we discovered a lone cultist patrolling the outer border of a fallen building.
I raised a finger to my lips to signify silence to Driya as we approached the cultist from behind. He was an orc with dark green skin and a perpetual scowl on his tusked face. He seemed to be fiddling with a note in his hands and did not see us before it was too late. Acting quickly, I sent Lethan ahead of the orc to distract him. With a screeching wail, Lethan dived in front of the cultist and spooked him. Just as the Orc began to call for help, Driya silenced him with a spell, and I jumped on him with my spear pressed to his throat.
"You cannot call for help, cultist," I said. "Tell me why you have began to gather here, and I may spare your life." His eyes lit up in rage, and his mouth moved as if to curse and grunt, but no sound came from him. Looking to the priestess I said, "Driya, if you please." With a flick of her wrist Driya released the hold on the Orc's voice, and guttural cries broke forth from the beast.
"...you nothing, witch. Release me, and prepare to face the wrath of the old gods!" he growled.
Unwilling to release him, I pressed my spear harder down on his neck, choking off his air supply. He began to turn a darker green in color, unable to breath, and after a second I eased the pressure. Seizing the opening, the cultist bucked wildly and threw me to the side, my strength unable to match that of the orc. Immediately he jumped up and released a shadow bolt directly at me. Driya countered the bolt by casting a divine shield around me. Seeing that he was outmatched, the cultist began to run toward his camp. My reflexes took over, and in a moment's time an arrow was notched and loosed from my bow, finding its way deep into the fleeing orc's back. He fell to the ground dead where he lay, the note still clutched in his meaty paw.
Driya and I approached the body, and I kneeled down and took the note. After reading it, Driya could see the shock on my face. "What does it say, Elio?" she asked.
"They are serving Neptulon, the elemental Lord of Water. And through him they are seeking to summon an ice elemental to battle Ragnaros, the Fire Lord. It is unfathomable that they would seek to cause an elemental war. What end they are seeking, I do not know."
Preparing a beacon, we called to the Earthen Ring and reported our findings. In turn, they asked us to scout out a meeting that the note spoke of. But to do so, we would need disguises. Taking an orb of transformation, Driya and I found ourselves in the guise of ocean crabs, similar to the many varied species found along the strand. We scuttled our way to the clandestine meeting and eavesdropped as a band of Naga in the service of Neptulon, sought the help of the cultists in summoning the Ice Lord, Ahune.
"Curse those foul snake skins!" I swore. It came out more of a "hiss, click, clack," but Driya understood the sentiment. After all of our work in scouring the reservoir in Zangarmarsh, now the Naga were using those caverns to usher in an elemental disaster. We quickly scuttled away, and regaining our true forms, reported our findings to the Ring.
"There is no choice," the Shaman said, "We must ask you to gather warriors of the highest caliber and seek out this Ahune. We will await you there to assist in whatever manner we can. He must not be allowed to start this war. The consequences to the world at large and the balance of nature would be catastrophic."
Driya was too young and inexperienced to battle the Ice Lord, but there was work for her to do against his minions in Desolace. It seems that the cultists' work was wide spread across the the continent. With my goal before me, I knew exactly who to turn to for help. People who I trusted, and who I could count on to destroy this menace. Ahune's time is at hand. He will melt before the Crack of Dawn.
It started with a report of unusual activity along the Zoram Strand back in my former home of Ashenvale. At one time the beach was the site of a majestic Kal'dorei temple which was devoid of the evil Naga and cultists that linger amidst the ruins today. The temple had fallen during the great sundering of our world and has since been defiled by the Twilight's Hammer, who use the once sacred place as a summoning ground for their dark gods. The Earthen Ring, an organization of Shaman across factions, very similar in nature to the Cenarion Circle, was the first to discover that the cultists among the Zoram Strand showed signs of increased activity. These Shaman were much involved in the organization of the Fire Festival across the world, so it was fitting that they used this opportunity to spread word of the cultists to the adventurers and pilgrims that came to honor the fires.
Having recently finished my work for the denizens of Lower City, I took it upon myself to look for clues along the Zoram Strand as to what exactly these cultists were up to. As the area is often used as a proving ground for up and coming Night Elf warriors and priestesses, I asked my cousin Driya to accompany me. Driya is the niece of Salthier's wife, Lal. While that may mean we have no blood ties, we became fast friends when we met, and she was recently inducted into the Order of Veritas along with her Aunt and Uncle. Together we scouted the strand, and before long we discovered a lone cultist patrolling the outer border of a fallen building.
I raised a finger to my lips to signify silence to Driya as we approached the cultist from behind. He was an orc with dark green skin and a perpetual scowl on his tusked face. He seemed to be fiddling with a note in his hands and did not see us before it was too late. Acting quickly, I sent Lethan ahead of the orc to distract him. With a screeching wail, Lethan dived in front of the cultist and spooked him. Just as the Orc began to call for help, Driya silenced him with a spell, and I jumped on him with my spear pressed to his throat.
"You cannot call for help, cultist," I said. "Tell me why you have began to gather here, and I may spare your life." His eyes lit up in rage, and his mouth moved as if to curse and grunt, but no sound came from him. Looking to the priestess I said, "Driya, if you please." With a flick of her wrist Driya released the hold on the Orc's voice, and guttural cries broke forth from the beast.
"...you nothing, witch. Release me, and prepare to face the wrath of the old gods!" he growled.
Unwilling to release him, I pressed my spear harder down on his neck, choking off his air supply. He began to turn a darker green in color, unable to breath, and after a second I eased the pressure. Seizing the opening, the cultist bucked wildly and threw me to the side, my strength unable to match that of the orc. Immediately he jumped up and released a shadow bolt directly at me. Driya countered the bolt by casting a divine shield around me. Seeing that he was outmatched, the cultist began to run toward his camp. My reflexes took over, and in a moment's time an arrow was notched and loosed from my bow, finding its way deep into the fleeing orc's back. He fell to the ground dead where he lay, the note still clutched in his meaty paw.
Driya and I approached the body, and I kneeled down and took the note. After reading it, Driya could see the shock on my face. "What does it say, Elio?" she asked.
"They are serving Neptulon, the elemental Lord of Water. And through him they are seeking to summon an ice elemental to battle Ragnaros, the Fire Lord. It is unfathomable that they would seek to cause an elemental war. What end they are seeking, I do not know."
Preparing a beacon, we called to the Earthen Ring and reported our findings. In turn, they asked us to scout out a meeting that the note spoke of. But to do so, we would need disguises. Taking an orb of transformation, Driya and I found ourselves in the guise of ocean crabs, similar to the many varied species found along the strand. We scuttled our way to the clandestine meeting and eavesdropped as a band of Naga in the service of Neptulon, sought the help of the cultists in summoning the Ice Lord, Ahune.
"Curse those foul snake skins!" I swore. It came out more of a "hiss, click, clack," but Driya understood the sentiment. After all of our work in scouring the reservoir in Zangarmarsh, now the Naga were using those caverns to usher in an elemental disaster. We quickly scuttled away, and regaining our true forms, reported our findings to the Ring.
"There is no choice," the Shaman said, "We must ask you to gather warriors of the highest caliber and seek out this Ahune. We will await you there to assist in whatever manner we can. He must not be allowed to start this war. The consequences to the world at large and the balance of nature would be catastrophic."
Driya was too young and inexperienced to battle the Ice Lord, but there was work for her to do against his minions in Desolace. It seems that the cultists' work was wide spread across the the continent. With my goal before me, I knew exactly who to turn to for help. People who I trusted, and who I could count on to destroy this menace. Ahune's time is at hand. He will melt before the Crack of Dawn.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Crack of Dawn
After many months of working for the Cenarion Expedition, the druids have deemed my efforts worthy of an exalted status within their ranks. In my efforts to please Ysiel and the rest of the expedition, I had put together a team of adventurers who dedicated every weekend morning to scouring the Coilfang Reservoir and ridding it of Naga filth. At times it seemed that our work was in vain, as the Naga fell before our weapons and spells in droves, but there were always more to replace the fallen. In the end we could not eradicate the threat entirely, but we had caused enough damage to weaken their efforts to control the water supply within the marsh.
Our last foray into the caverns far beneath the waters of Serpent Lake was both our most valuable and dangerous journey to date. We met, the five of us, as we usually did beneath the waters in the entrance to the cavern. Irinna, the Draenei Frost Mage, quick of wit and of tongue. The stoic Druid, Lochiel, who draws heavily on the Spirit of the Bear to attack his foes. Ehrengar, the Holy Dwarven Paladin, keeping both our minds and bodies healed with his skill and his mirth. Lasmirria, fellow Night Elf hunter commanding her cat Mercury. And myself, along with the ever faithful Lethan, my companion since I started down the path of a hunter.
Over the months we had learned to know the methods of each other so well that we could often signal each other without words in the thick of battle. This early morning we were determined to make our final push into the area known as the Steamvault where we had been at work for some time. The large area was full of pipes and vents of Naga and perhaps goblin design, all of it pumping water away from the flora and fauna dying up in the marsh above. Having made our preparations, we set foot into the cavern, and began the advance on its denizens.
After many skirmishes across the vault with Naga of every shape and size, we had at last made our way to a room sealed off by a heavy door. Whatever lay behind it must hold some secret to this place, something that the Cenarion Expedition would surely find useful in their ongoing battle. Several of the higher ranking Naga in the cavern had been guarding machines which seemed to act as locking mechanisms, and once the Naga, and the machines had been disabled, the way forward lay open to us.
We cautiously made our way inside, dispatching the snake like Myrmidons and other hideous Naga casters methodically. They did not hold back in their assault on us, and we gave no quarter to those that dared to attack. Deep within the room a lone Naga stood, Warlord Kalithresh, surrounded by tanks of some fluid. It appeared to be water, but I highly doubted the contents were as benign as that. Having made our way past the guards, the serpentine visage stared at us with glowing red eyes and exclaimed, “You deem yourselves worthy simply because you bested my guards? Our work here will not be compromised!”
Lochiel, seizing the opportune moment, rushed the warlord, transforming into a mighty bear and swiping at the Naga with a heavily clawed paw. Kalithresh parried with his trident, hissing with vehemence, for the moment his attention on the bear. The group spread out, quickly analyzing the snake man for weaknesses. Surely this would be an easy battle with five of us facing the one. Irinna began to conjure up a bolt of ice as Lasmirria and I both sent our pets into the thick of battle next to Lochiel. In tandem we notched arrows in our bows and sent them rocketing towards the snake. Ehrengar’s attention was upon Lochiel, quickly healing any wounds inflicted by the Naga.
“Ba’anthalso-dorei!” screamed Kalithresh in the evil Naga tongue. His many wounds from our onslaught taking their toll. Surprised as I was by the beating that he could take, he was almost certainly defeated. But even as his life bled from him, his sinister smirk did not fade. Without warning, the Naga rushed towards one of the tanks nearest him. “This is not nearly over…” he muttered, and began to cast a spell upon the tank. I realized what was happening too late. Giving off a red glow, he began to grow in size as the water was channeled out of the tank and into the Naga. With renewed strength and vigor, he shook off the attacks of the pets and went fully for Lochiel, causing a near mortal blow. The efforts of Ehrengar saved the bear with a timely blessing, and we continued the assault, but our attacks now seemed useless.
“We cannot let him use the power of those tanks again!” I exclaimed to my companions, knowing that they would hear and understand even in the confusion of our fight. After some time, the effects of the liquid seemed to lessen upon the warlord and he made his way to another of the tanks within his room. I yelled, “Now!” I turned my bow on the tank and fired a heavily tipped arrow, which cracked into the glass of the tank, but left only a scratch. The warlord began to channel for more strength as he had before, leaving us only a few seconds to drain the tank. Seeing a need, Irinna quickly tossed a bolt of frost at the tank, freezing it. Lasmirria directed Mercury towards the tank and at the same time loosed an arrow in that direction. The powerful cat’s claws came down on the tank from one side as the arrow broke into the frozen glass on the other, and the water spilled to the floor just as Kalithresh was finishing his spell. His constant smirk began to disappear.
Invigorated by our accomplishments, we renewed our attack. Without his ability to power himself, the Warlord began to panic, running towards the nearest tank. With a ferocious roar, Lochiel charged the snake and blocked his progress. His power drained and with no where to go, the Naga frantically tried to fend off the bear, but to no avail. Finally, his scaly skin riddled with arrows and covered in muck and blood, Warlord Kalithresh dropped his trident and writhed on the ground gasping his last words.
“For her Excellency…for...Vashj!”
The leader of the Steamvault lay dead at our feet. Our prize for killing him, the knowledge of an even darker threat further within the cavern. The five of us alone could not hope to fight the sorceress. We would need help.
Dirty and smelling of fish and filth, we returned to the surface just as the sun was cresting the horizon. We wearily made our way back to the Cenarion Expedition’s base in the marsh and reported our findings to Ysiel and the druids. Though the knowledge of what lay ahead was dire, we were lauded for our efforts. Lochiel and myself, who had longest served the Expedition within the caverns were given exalted status within the ranks of the Expedition, the highest attainable. And though we had accomplished much, I still knew that the evil of the Naga had not been completely eradicated. Not as long as Vashj lived.
Our last foray into the caverns far beneath the waters of Serpent Lake was both our most valuable and dangerous journey to date. We met, the five of us, as we usually did beneath the waters in the entrance to the cavern. Irinna, the Draenei Frost Mage, quick of wit and of tongue. The stoic Druid, Lochiel, who draws heavily on the Spirit of the Bear to attack his foes. Ehrengar, the Holy Dwarven Paladin, keeping both our minds and bodies healed with his skill and his mirth. Lasmirria, fellow Night Elf hunter commanding her cat Mercury. And myself, along with the ever faithful Lethan, my companion since I started down the path of a hunter.
Over the months we had learned to know the methods of each other so well that we could often signal each other without words in the thick of battle. This early morning we were determined to make our final push into the area known as the Steamvault where we had been at work for some time. The large area was full of pipes and vents of Naga and perhaps goblin design, all of it pumping water away from the flora and fauna dying up in the marsh above. Having made our preparations, we set foot into the cavern, and began the advance on its denizens.
After many skirmishes across the vault with Naga of every shape and size, we had at last made our way to a room sealed off by a heavy door. Whatever lay behind it must hold some secret to this place, something that the Cenarion Expedition would surely find useful in their ongoing battle. Several of the higher ranking Naga in the cavern had been guarding machines which seemed to act as locking mechanisms, and once the Naga, and the machines had been disabled, the way forward lay open to us.
We cautiously made our way inside, dispatching the snake like Myrmidons and other hideous Naga casters methodically. They did not hold back in their assault on us, and we gave no quarter to those that dared to attack. Deep within the room a lone Naga stood, Warlord Kalithresh, surrounded by tanks of some fluid. It appeared to be water, but I highly doubted the contents were as benign as that. Having made our way past the guards, the serpentine visage stared at us with glowing red eyes and exclaimed, “You deem yourselves worthy simply because you bested my guards? Our work here will not be compromised!”
Lochiel, seizing the opportune moment, rushed the warlord, transforming into a mighty bear and swiping at the Naga with a heavily clawed paw. Kalithresh parried with his trident, hissing with vehemence, for the moment his attention on the bear. The group spread out, quickly analyzing the snake man for weaknesses. Surely this would be an easy battle with five of us facing the one. Irinna began to conjure up a bolt of ice as Lasmirria and I both sent our pets into the thick of battle next to Lochiel. In tandem we notched arrows in our bows and sent them rocketing towards the snake. Ehrengar’s attention was upon Lochiel, quickly healing any wounds inflicted by the Naga.
“Ba’anthalso-dorei!” screamed Kalithresh in the evil Naga tongue. His many wounds from our onslaught taking their toll. Surprised as I was by the beating that he could take, he was almost certainly defeated. But even as his life bled from him, his sinister smirk did not fade. Without warning, the Naga rushed towards one of the tanks nearest him. “This is not nearly over…” he muttered, and began to cast a spell upon the tank. I realized what was happening too late. Giving off a red glow, he began to grow in size as the water was channeled out of the tank and into the Naga. With renewed strength and vigor, he shook off the attacks of the pets and went fully for Lochiel, causing a near mortal blow. The efforts of Ehrengar saved the bear with a timely blessing, and we continued the assault, but our attacks now seemed useless.
“We cannot let him use the power of those tanks again!” I exclaimed to my companions, knowing that they would hear and understand even in the confusion of our fight. After some time, the effects of the liquid seemed to lessen upon the warlord and he made his way to another of the tanks within his room. I yelled, “Now!” I turned my bow on the tank and fired a heavily tipped arrow, which cracked into the glass of the tank, but left only a scratch. The warlord began to channel for more strength as he had before, leaving us only a few seconds to drain the tank. Seeing a need, Irinna quickly tossed a bolt of frost at the tank, freezing it. Lasmirria directed Mercury towards the tank and at the same time loosed an arrow in that direction. The powerful cat’s claws came down on the tank from one side as the arrow broke into the frozen glass on the other, and the water spilled to the floor just as Kalithresh was finishing his spell. His constant smirk began to disappear.
Invigorated by our accomplishments, we renewed our attack. Without his ability to power himself, the Warlord began to panic, running towards the nearest tank. With a ferocious roar, Lochiel charged the snake and blocked his progress. His power drained and with no where to go, the Naga frantically tried to fend off the bear, but to no avail. Finally, his scaly skin riddled with arrows and covered in muck and blood, Warlord Kalithresh dropped his trident and writhed on the ground gasping his last words.
“For her Excellency…for...Vashj!”
The leader of the Steamvault lay dead at our feet. Our prize for killing him, the knowledge of an even darker threat further within the cavern. The five of us alone could not hope to fight the sorceress. We would need help.
Dirty and smelling of fish and filth, we returned to the surface just as the sun was cresting the horizon. We wearily made our way back to the Cenarion Expedition’s base in the marsh and reported our findings to Ysiel and the druids. Though the knowledge of what lay ahead was dire, we were lauded for our efforts. Lochiel and myself, who had longest served the Expedition within the caverns were given exalted status within the ranks of the Expedition, the highest attainable. And though we had accomplished much, I still knew that the evil of the Naga had not been completely eradicated. Not as long as Vashj lived.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Friends of the Family
I have been steadily at work for the Cenarion Expedition for several months now. Each foray into the Coilfang Resevoir provides new clues and new information for the druids, and they have rewarded me greatly for my service to them. My work is far from done, so I will continue to fight the Naga at their home base and prevent them from furthering their destruction in other lands.
In a rare moment between strategizing and materials gathering, I found myself back in Azeroth to visit my mother in the Temple of Elune. An able priestess, she was always to be found in the Temple, often praying for me and others close to our family as we ventured into the world, never ceasing in her duty to Tyrande and our people. It was during this visit that I was greeted with a most welcome surprise. After meeting my mother, we walked to her home on the edge of the city where she had guests.
"Uncle Salthier!" I exclaimed.
His long forest green hair was pulled up into a ponytail and swayed as he laughed and smiled at my appearance. There was much joy in his amber glowing eyes as we embraced in a friendly manner. It had been many years since I had last seen Salthier. He was not actually my uncle, but he had been a friend of my father for many, many years, and I had grown to address him as such. Though he looked of modest age with his smooth features and a full beard, he was actually much, much older. Both he and my father had fought at Mt. Hyjal, but where my father had drawn upon the powers of nature as a Druid, Salthier was more well versed in physical combat. He had never shown the aptitude for druidism that most of the male Night Elves had, and had instead taken the path of a warrior. Salthier had been with my father when he fell to the legion, and was the one to let my family know of our loss. He then helped us relocate to Teldrassil, but soon after that he went on a journey to the other side of the world, and I have not seen him until this moment.
"Well then, how is little Elio' doing these days? I hear you have become quite the huntress," he remarked with a sparkle in his eye. I gave him a proud look in return, surprised that he had heard of my small exploits in the world.
"Yes, Uncle, I am doing my best to serve the Circle and their expedtion in Outland. The Naga have even spread into other lands to sow their corruption. Anything I can do to slow it is worth it."
His face became a little more serious at the mention of the Naga. None of us had forgotten where the Naga had come from, or of the past sins of the Kal'dorei.
"Yes, yes, well it is for that and other reasons that I have come to visit you and your mother, Elionene. But first, some good news!"
Salthier went outside and called to a pretty Night Elf priestess who was admiring the flowers in my mother's garden. She had long bluish hair, similar to mine, but her face was more mature and did not have any markings upon it. She wore a simple, hand crafted dress of blue and white that flowed gracefully around her as she walked our direction.
"Elionene, I would like you to meet Lal, my life-mate," said Salthier proudly as Lal reached us.
Lal directed her silver eyes at me and said, "Elune-Adore, Elionene. It is an honor to meet you and your family. Salthier speaks of you and your parents quite highly."
"Ishnu'alah, Lal. It is also my honor to meet you," I replied. Salthier stood by and smiled a larger smile than I have ever seen on his face. It made me happy to see them together. Truly it was a match made by Elune.
We retired back to the sitting room, and Salthier began to relate the story of the last few years to us, bringing us up to speed on his arrival in Darnassus.
"After I had helped you to move to this place, I returned the now empty battlefield and found myself lacking. Yes, we had won the war, but at such a cost! Our long lives now shortened and many friends lost to eternity, including your father. For many years I fought and trained as a warrior, but it was not the warriors that won that day for us. It was the druids like your father who led the assault and who called upon the spirit of the world itself to fight against the Burning Legion. I have often longed to learn the druidic ways, but I was never able to adapt to them as well as the others, as well as your father. I decided then to travel, to see what this new alliance had wrought and to learn more of our new friends, the humans.
"A few years passed, and I eventually found myself in the land of Azshara, the buildings now in ruins. I lay down to sleep in an ancient shrine, and in my dreams, a voice spoke to me. It was warm voice, a comforting voice, deep and rich in tone. It said to me that my desire to serve Cenarius even as a warrior had not gone by unnoticed. I was to return to Teldrassil, and seek my calling there. Upon waking, I felt a great peace, as if my wanderings and learnings had been for this purpose alone. When I arrived back in Rut'theran Village, Lal was waiting for me. We had been friends when we were younger, many years ago, and I was quite surprised to see her standing on the boat dock. She had been prompted as I had, in a dream. She had recently began her studies to become a priestess in service to the Mother Moon, and the voice of Elune had prompted her to await my coming.
"We soon became life-mates and now we are continuing our studies in earnest, she with the Temple, and myself with the Cenarion Circle. It is through the Circle that I heard of your many accomplishments, Elionene, and I decided it was high time I visited you and your mother once again."
I sat wide eyed, mouth open, as Salthier related his story to us. It appeared as if Cenarius himself had spoken from the Emerald Dream to my uncle.
Salthier continued, "Yes, it has not been easy learning the ways of a Druid, but whatever had kept me from truly learning it before, has vanished. I find it easier to translate my training as a warrior by calling upon the spirit of the bear, but I am slowly learning the other, more subtle nuances of the path."
"I am so happy for you, Uncle. Elune has truly blessed you and Lal. I wish you well in your journey together, wherever it takes you."
It was now a late hour, and Salthier and Lal had business at the temple. I also had to get rested for the coming expeditions into the Naga strongholds in Zangarmarsh. We said our farewells and went our seperate ways for the night. I was awed at Salthier's transformation, and knew that Elune had sent Lal to him to help guide his journey from warrior to druid. I was also certain that our paths would cross again.
And probably sooner than I expected.
In a rare moment between strategizing and materials gathering, I found myself back in Azeroth to visit my mother in the Temple of Elune. An able priestess, she was always to be found in the Temple, often praying for me and others close to our family as we ventured into the world, never ceasing in her duty to Tyrande and our people. It was during this visit that I was greeted with a most welcome surprise. After meeting my mother, we walked to her home on the edge of the city where she had guests.
"Uncle Salthier!" I exclaimed.
His long forest green hair was pulled up into a ponytail and swayed as he laughed and smiled at my appearance. There was much joy in his amber glowing eyes as we embraced in a friendly manner. It had been many years since I had last seen Salthier. He was not actually my uncle, but he had been a friend of my father for many, many years, and I had grown to address him as such. Though he looked of modest age with his smooth features and a full beard, he was actually much, much older. Both he and my father had fought at Mt. Hyjal, but where my father had drawn upon the powers of nature as a Druid, Salthier was more well versed in physical combat. He had never shown the aptitude for druidism that most of the male Night Elves had, and had instead taken the path of a warrior. Salthier had been with my father when he fell to the legion, and was the one to let my family know of our loss. He then helped us relocate to Teldrassil, but soon after that he went on a journey to the other side of the world, and I have not seen him until this moment.
"Well then, how is little Elio' doing these days? I hear you have become quite the huntress," he remarked with a sparkle in his eye. I gave him a proud look in return, surprised that he had heard of my small exploits in the world.
"Yes, Uncle, I am doing my best to serve the Circle and their expedtion in Outland. The Naga have even spread into other lands to sow their corruption. Anything I can do to slow it is worth it."
His face became a little more serious at the mention of the Naga. None of us had forgotten where the Naga had come from, or of the past sins of the Kal'dorei.
"Yes, yes, well it is for that and other reasons that I have come to visit you and your mother, Elionene. But first, some good news!"
Salthier went outside and called to a pretty Night Elf priestess who was admiring the flowers in my mother's garden. She had long bluish hair, similar to mine, but her face was more mature and did not have any markings upon it. She wore a simple, hand crafted dress of blue and white that flowed gracefully around her as she walked our direction.
"Elionene, I would like you to meet Lal, my life-mate," said Salthier proudly as Lal reached us.
Lal directed her silver eyes at me and said, "Elune-Adore, Elionene. It is an honor to meet you and your family. Salthier speaks of you and your parents quite highly."
"Ishnu'alah, Lal. It is also my honor to meet you," I replied. Salthier stood by and smiled a larger smile than I have ever seen on his face. It made me happy to see them together. Truly it was a match made by Elune.
We retired back to the sitting room, and Salthier began to relate the story of the last few years to us, bringing us up to speed on his arrival in Darnassus.
"After I had helped you to move to this place, I returned the now empty battlefield and found myself lacking. Yes, we had won the war, but at such a cost! Our long lives now shortened and many friends lost to eternity, including your father. For many years I fought and trained as a warrior, but it was not the warriors that won that day for us. It was the druids like your father who led the assault and who called upon the spirit of the world itself to fight against the Burning Legion. I have often longed to learn the druidic ways, but I was never able to adapt to them as well as the others, as well as your father. I decided then to travel, to see what this new alliance had wrought and to learn more of our new friends, the humans.
"A few years passed, and I eventually found myself in the land of Azshara, the buildings now in ruins. I lay down to sleep in an ancient shrine, and in my dreams, a voice spoke to me. It was warm voice, a comforting voice, deep and rich in tone. It said to me that my desire to serve Cenarius even as a warrior had not gone by unnoticed. I was to return to Teldrassil, and seek my calling there. Upon waking, I felt a great peace, as if my wanderings and learnings had been for this purpose alone. When I arrived back in Rut'theran Village, Lal was waiting for me. We had been friends when we were younger, many years ago, and I was quite surprised to see her standing on the boat dock. She had been prompted as I had, in a dream. She had recently began her studies to become a priestess in service to the Mother Moon, and the voice of Elune had prompted her to await my coming.
"We soon became life-mates and now we are continuing our studies in earnest, she with the Temple, and myself with the Cenarion Circle. It is through the Circle that I heard of your many accomplishments, Elionene, and I decided it was high time I visited you and your mother once again."
I sat wide eyed, mouth open, as Salthier related his story to us. It appeared as if Cenarius himself had spoken from the Emerald Dream to my uncle.
Salthier continued, "Yes, it has not been easy learning the ways of a Druid, but whatever had kept me from truly learning it before, has vanished. I find it easier to translate my training as a warrior by calling upon the spirit of the bear, but I am slowly learning the other, more subtle nuances of the path."
"I am so happy for you, Uncle. Elune has truly blessed you and Lal. I wish you well in your journey together, wherever it takes you."
It was now a late hour, and Salthier and Lal had business at the temple. I also had to get rested for the coming expeditions into the Naga strongholds in Zangarmarsh. We said our farewells and went our seperate ways for the night. I was awed at Salthier's transformation, and knew that Elune had sent Lal to him to help guide his journey from warrior to druid. I was also certain that our paths would cross again.
And probably sooner than I expected.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Cenarion Expedition
Granault’s paws ran effortlessly along the path with hardly a sound, carrying me swiftly North through the Zangarmarsh. The grey mistsaber purred lightly as he ran, ignoring the thickening air and the rising heat as the sky became hidden behind giant mushroom caps. It had been some time since I had been in the marsh, but I had not missed the humid climate. I urged my mount onward, eager to finish the journey to the Cenarion Refuge where I would talk to Ysiel Windsinger. Across Umbrafen Lake to the West I could make out a camp of Naga. They were toiling away on one of their steam pumps. No matter how much effort we put forth to shut them down, the Naga managed to keep draining the waters of the marsh for their own greed. This was part of what I wanted to talk to Ysiel about.
It was not long before we entered the refuge. Druids, both Night Elf and Tauren, busied themselves with various tasks, collecting herbs, sharpening weapons, going over strategies and plans. Most of them seemed generally excited to be here in Outland. As I tied up Granault outside the inn, I noticed a few familiar faces nearby. Friends of my parents who I had known growing up that had been part of the Cenarion Circle before the portal to this world had opened. While the circle was still hard at work in Azeroth, they sent an expedition to Outland when they heard of horrors going on in this world, and to see if their services could be of any use. Now the Cenarion Expedition, as it is known, has taken on a life of its own with members dedicated to the need here in the marsh, and in a few other places. It was for this reason that I had come, and for that I needed to see Ysiel. Smiling in acknowledgment at the faces I knew, I waved and stepped inside the inn.
At the back of the building overlooking the Northeastern area of the marsh, Ysiel Windsinger stood with her hands on the porch railing, deep in thought. A Night Elf like me, she was very tall with a medium lavender skin tone and a suit of leather armor that was dyed green. She had probably hand crafted it herself. I waited a few moments before alerting her to my presence and then greeted her softly. She turned to address me with her soft, calm eyes.
“Elionene,” she said to me smiling, “it has been some time since you passed this way. As you may have seen we have progressed little by little but have made no significant dent in the Naga’s efforts to drain the marsh.”
I nodded, and related my sight of the Naga on the other side of Umbrafen Lake. I had helped the expedition briefly a few months ago during my first visit to the marsh, leading attacks on the Naga and their steam pumps, but the Naga were resilient and continued to repair anything we managed to tear down.
“We continue to receive aid from passing adventurers and the dedicated Druids from both the Horde and Alliance, but with no new information on the Naga’s plans, we seem to be at stalemate,” Ysiel continued. “So what has brought the beloved daughter of Lorathin to this place today?”
I smiled at the mention of my father’s name. Ysiel had probably known him long ago before his life was taken at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. I returned her questioning gaze confidently. It was because of my father that I was here, and that knowledge gave me the strength to respond to her.
“Lady Windsinger, I am here to dedicate my life to the Cenarion Druids. Though I follow the path of the huntress, I know in my heart that this is where I belong. I have seen much of our own world and this foreign one in my travels, and the battles are too numerous to count. It seems that the alliance is beset on all fronts, but nothing is more pressing to me than the protection of what natural habitat remains. I come to join you, and put forth my whole effort for the expeditions needs.”
Whew. I had practiced that for the entire journey up here, spending an inordinate amount of time in Shattrath’s Aldor Rise editing my speech. I may have stuttered a little, I’m not sure, but I think my resolve and dedication was apparent. Ysiel it seems was at least pleased. Her response took me a little off guard however.
“Do you happen to have your pet nearby? The owl Lethan,” Ysiel said.
Giving her a quizzical look, I nodded, and bringing a finger to each corner of my mouth I gave three short and sharp whistles. A whoosh from the top of the inn announce where Lethan had been resting. He flew down and lit upon the ledge of the porch between me and Ysiel. He hooted questioningly and cocked his head to the side while ruffling his pure white coat of feathers. Ysiel grinned and nodded approvingly before speaking.
“You may or may not be surprised to know the story of what happened to you and Lethan in the Felwood has spread amongst the Cenarion Expedition. Olm does not often show himself to outsiders, but he chose you specifically and so we have waited for the day you would arrive. When you first passed through here you were still learning, eager to see over the next hill and around the next lake. We asked you to assist us and you gladly did so, but you still had some maturing to do, and you continued on your journey. I am proud to see you have come back to us, Elionene, and I accept you into the Expedition’s ranks. However, you must start at the beginning as everyone else has, and gain the trust of your superiors and your peers.”
Elated, I smiled and thanked Ysiel profusely. “I understand, Lady Windsinger, anything you ask of me, I am willing to work at.”
“Good,” she said, “and actually, there is something that I believe you can help us with immediately. You have already seen the Naga camps and their steam pumps. We believe these to just be extensions of a central pump where the Naga are based. You have no doubt seen the reservoir in the middle of Serpent Lake. This is where we must focus our operations. Gather a small group and investigate. Bring me anything you find that may be of use. This is your task.”
I thanked Ysiel, letting her know I would return with information soon. Lethan followed me out of the inn, and I stopped at Granault to pull a small glowing crystal out of one of my spare packs. I was eager to begin my mission for the expedition, but I could not do it alone. Thankfully, when one belongs to a guild of adventurers, explorers, and treasure hunters, it’s not hard to find a few interested parties to explore an area where there is bound to be both adventure and treasure. Smiling, I held the crystal close to my mouth and spoke softly.
“Anyone feel like hunting Naga?”
It was not long before we entered the refuge. Druids, both Night Elf and Tauren, busied themselves with various tasks, collecting herbs, sharpening weapons, going over strategies and plans. Most of them seemed generally excited to be here in Outland. As I tied up Granault outside the inn, I noticed a few familiar faces nearby. Friends of my parents who I had known growing up that had been part of the Cenarion Circle before the portal to this world had opened. While the circle was still hard at work in Azeroth, they sent an expedition to Outland when they heard of horrors going on in this world, and to see if their services could be of any use. Now the Cenarion Expedition, as it is known, has taken on a life of its own with members dedicated to the need here in the marsh, and in a few other places. It was for this reason that I had come, and for that I needed to see Ysiel. Smiling in acknowledgment at the faces I knew, I waved and stepped inside the inn.
At the back of the building overlooking the Northeastern area of the marsh, Ysiel Windsinger stood with her hands on the porch railing, deep in thought. A Night Elf like me, she was very tall with a medium lavender skin tone and a suit of leather armor that was dyed green. She had probably hand crafted it herself. I waited a few moments before alerting her to my presence and then greeted her softly. She turned to address me with her soft, calm eyes.
“Elionene,” she said to me smiling, “it has been some time since you passed this way. As you may have seen we have progressed little by little but have made no significant dent in the Naga’s efforts to drain the marsh.”
I nodded, and related my sight of the Naga on the other side of Umbrafen Lake. I had helped the expedition briefly a few months ago during my first visit to the marsh, leading attacks on the Naga and their steam pumps, but the Naga were resilient and continued to repair anything we managed to tear down.
“We continue to receive aid from passing adventurers and the dedicated Druids from both the Horde and Alliance, but with no new information on the Naga’s plans, we seem to be at stalemate,” Ysiel continued. “So what has brought the beloved daughter of Lorathin to this place today?”
I smiled at the mention of my father’s name. Ysiel had probably known him long ago before his life was taken at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. I returned her questioning gaze confidently. It was because of my father that I was here, and that knowledge gave me the strength to respond to her.
“Lady Windsinger, I am here to dedicate my life to the Cenarion Druids. Though I follow the path of the huntress, I know in my heart that this is where I belong. I have seen much of our own world and this foreign one in my travels, and the battles are too numerous to count. It seems that the alliance is beset on all fronts, but nothing is more pressing to me than the protection of what natural habitat remains. I come to join you, and put forth my whole effort for the expeditions needs.”
Whew. I had practiced that for the entire journey up here, spending an inordinate amount of time in Shattrath’s Aldor Rise editing my speech. I may have stuttered a little, I’m not sure, but I think my resolve and dedication was apparent. Ysiel it seems was at least pleased. Her response took me a little off guard however.
“Do you happen to have your pet nearby? The owl Lethan,” Ysiel said.
Giving her a quizzical look, I nodded, and bringing a finger to each corner of my mouth I gave three short and sharp whistles. A whoosh from the top of the inn announce where Lethan had been resting. He flew down and lit upon the ledge of the porch between me and Ysiel. He hooted questioningly and cocked his head to the side while ruffling his pure white coat of feathers. Ysiel grinned and nodded approvingly before speaking.
“You may or may not be surprised to know the story of what happened to you and Lethan in the Felwood has spread amongst the Cenarion Expedition. Olm does not often show himself to outsiders, but he chose you specifically and so we have waited for the day you would arrive. When you first passed through here you were still learning, eager to see over the next hill and around the next lake. We asked you to assist us and you gladly did so, but you still had some maturing to do, and you continued on your journey. I am proud to see you have come back to us, Elionene, and I accept you into the Expedition’s ranks. However, you must start at the beginning as everyone else has, and gain the trust of your superiors and your peers.”
Elated, I smiled and thanked Ysiel profusely. “I understand, Lady Windsinger, anything you ask of me, I am willing to work at.”
“Good,” she said, “and actually, there is something that I believe you can help us with immediately. You have already seen the Naga camps and their steam pumps. We believe these to just be extensions of a central pump where the Naga are based. You have no doubt seen the reservoir in the middle of Serpent Lake. This is where we must focus our operations. Gather a small group and investigate. Bring me anything you find that may be of use. This is your task.”
I thanked Ysiel, letting her know I would return with information soon. Lethan followed me out of the inn, and I stopped at Granault to pull a small glowing crystal out of one of my spare packs. I was eager to begin my mission for the expedition, but I could not do it alone. Thankfully, when one belongs to a guild of adventurers, explorers, and treasure hunters, it’s not hard to find a few interested parties to explore an area where there is bound to be both adventure and treasure. Smiling, I held the crystal close to my mouth and spoke softly.
“Anyone feel like hunting Naga?”
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Lethan's Transformation
Over the following months Lethan and I would become fast friends, able to communicate in ways even mysterious to us but necessary in our battle against the horde and the Burning Legion. I could not have asked for a more dedicated and deadly hunting partner. His claws were like razors and his screech was deafening when directed at our prey. In outward appearances, Lethan was indistinguishable from most of the other Strigid Sceechers upon Teldrassil, a mottled mix of gray and white, with long wing feathers, and an intelligent gaze. Having left Teldrassil, we traveled the continent of Kalimdor, helping those in need and seeking out new challenges in unfamiliar land.
I had business in Everlook, in the northern part of the continent. The trek on foot was long and treacherous, leading through the heart of Felwood. Though I had grown up on the edges of the cursed forest, I had never actually been very deep into the woods. Now, being a nearly full trained huntress, I ventured cautiously through the woods, Lethan flapping his wings behind me as he glided back and forth, ears and eyes alert for any danger. We stuck to the road, not wanting to draw the attention of any demons or corrupted wildlife.
We were making good time as our encounters had been few. Other than a diseased bear and a few errant oozes, we were able to reach the northern most parts of the wood without resistance. The Druids at the Emerald Glade had made mention of a new Alliance outpost near this area, Talonbranch Glade, where we could rest before trekking through the tunnel to Winterspring.
Bolstered in my confidence by the ease with which Lethan and I had come so far, I veered off the road in what I believed to be a shortcut to the Glade, through a large grove of Irontrees. As we walked further into the grove, the light began to wane and the brush became thicker, until we were slicing through limbs and bushes with my daggers to reach the other side. Lethan’s flight was impaired by the many tree limbs. I started to regret leaving the road. I was about to slash at a branch to clear the path when the branch suddenly lurched and snatched the dagger from my hand. I was startled, and in my hesitation I did not see another branch come swinging around behind me, knocking me to the ground.
With a high pitched screech, Lethan dived at the beast, a large Irontree treant, a walking forest spirit that appeared as a tree. In past times, these beings were peaceful and friendly to the Night Elf peoples and the Druids especially. The Legions desecration of the forest had turned them foul, and now we were being set upon by at last three of the treants. Using my other dagger, I sliced at the branch holding me on the ground and was able to rise from where I had been pushed over. The treant in front of me snarled and lunged at me. I ducked and rolled to the side, bringing the dagger up in front of me as I rose and plunged it into the back of the treant, just below the head area. The dagger dug deep into the bark and the treant went limp.
I turned to see a horrible sight. Lethan was fighting a losing battle against two of the creatures. He had managed to keep their attention off of me while I handled the single treant. With as much speed as I could muster, I reached for my bow and began to notch an arrow, but it was too late. Lethan, exhausted, could not stand up to the two treants. With a final screech he launched at the largest one, but was swatted aside by a massive, knotted hand. I shouted, no, I screamed out loud as he fell to the ground, a mess of blood and feathers.
With one dagger missing and the other stuck in the dead treant, all I had to defend myself was my bow, and I was at too close range for it to do me any good. The two corrupted treants advanced on me. Shouting and crying, I turned to run, to escape these murderous beasts, but my leg was caught by their long branch-like fingers and I tumbled forward as the treant pulled me back.
I had been beaten, and I had nearly given up hope when a light appeared from above me. The light was a brilliant white, and I heard a familiar flapping of wings as an object came swooping down on the treant which held me. The shocked treant let go and reached up to protect its face, but it was too late, as what was now recognizable as a pure white bird dug its talons deep into the face of the monster, immobilizing it. Without hesitation, the bird, seeing its first quarry now defeated, launched itself at the other treant with a powerful flap of its wings. The remaining treant, being alone and bested, began to lumber off into the forest as the bird gave chase.
I was alone now. I crawled over to where Lethan had fallen. His limp form lay up against the base of a regular immobile tree. His breathing was extremely shallow. His injuries were beyond even the best pet mending spells I knew. His head turned slowly to look at me as I cried, unable to assist my best friend. I heard him utter a soft hoot, as if to say goodbye, and then we both turned our heads to the sound of flapping, descending slowly upon us from the tree tops. It was an owl, similar in appearance to Lethan, but larger and with brilliant white feathers that seemed to glow. And in my grief, and shock, I did not even realize how odd it was when the white owl spoke to me. He spoke not with words, but in my mind.
Child, I am Olm the Wise, protector of these woods and aid to those of the Cenarion Circle. I knew your father, Lorathin. You remind me much of him. Brash, headstrong, and over-confident. But you are also strong and loyal. I see the pain that the loss of your companion has brought you. No one should walk these lands alone, especially in these dark days. I can help Lethan, but it will come at a cost, and he will not be exactly as he was. Can you accept this?
My face wet from tears, I nodded at Olm. My father had never mentioned him to me, though I knew that the Cenarion Circle enlisted many kinds of creatures to aid their mission to heal the forests corrupted by the Legion. Without Lethan, I would not be half the hunter that I was. Seeing me agree, Olm softly hooted and rose above the forest canopy, out of my sight. I looked to Lethan’s now lifeless form, still limp and broken against the tree.
A few seconds passed before something happened. Lethan’s body began to glow a feint green, and the light started to pulse, glowing brighter with each new wave. Without any visible force, the owl began to rise off the ground. I stood up as Lethan floated above my head and watched as the wings began to extend and his head turned forward. In a sudden flash of green and white light, I heard a piercing screech come from Lethan, shattering the silence. My eyes widened in wonder as I watched his mottled gray feathers drip from his body like tears, revealing a gleaming white feather coat beneath. It started at his tail and reached up to his wings and finally his head. When the transformation was complete, the light subsided and a glowing white owl flapped steadily in front of me.
“Lethan?” I ventured. The owl flew at me, hooting happily and danced in the air above my shoulders. He was back with me! I began to cry again, in joy this time for the return of my dear friend. Even with his new color, he was recognizable as the companion who had hunted with me since I left Teldrassil. Then, though I could not see him, I heard Olm speak to me again.
Child, in payment for the return of your companion, I ask one thing only. After you have traveled the land and seen the sufferings and joys of its people and explored to the far reaches seeking as much knowledge as you can, you must return to the Circle and serve them in whatever capacity they see fit. Your father would be proud of you. Now go.
As my mind cleared, so did an area in front of us, and through the clearing was a path to Talonbranch Glade up ahead. I knew in my heart I would return to help the Circle some day soon. I owed it to Olm. And to my father.
I had business in Everlook, in the northern part of the continent. The trek on foot was long and treacherous, leading through the heart of Felwood. Though I had grown up on the edges of the cursed forest, I had never actually been very deep into the woods. Now, being a nearly full trained huntress, I ventured cautiously through the woods, Lethan flapping his wings behind me as he glided back and forth, ears and eyes alert for any danger. We stuck to the road, not wanting to draw the attention of any demons or corrupted wildlife.
We were making good time as our encounters had been few. Other than a diseased bear and a few errant oozes, we were able to reach the northern most parts of the wood without resistance. The Druids at the Emerald Glade had made mention of a new Alliance outpost near this area, Talonbranch Glade, where we could rest before trekking through the tunnel to Winterspring.
Bolstered in my confidence by the ease with which Lethan and I had come so far, I veered off the road in what I believed to be a shortcut to the Glade, through a large grove of Irontrees. As we walked further into the grove, the light began to wane and the brush became thicker, until we were slicing through limbs and bushes with my daggers to reach the other side. Lethan’s flight was impaired by the many tree limbs. I started to regret leaving the road. I was about to slash at a branch to clear the path when the branch suddenly lurched and snatched the dagger from my hand. I was startled, and in my hesitation I did not see another branch come swinging around behind me, knocking me to the ground.
With a high pitched screech, Lethan dived at the beast, a large Irontree treant, a walking forest spirit that appeared as a tree. In past times, these beings were peaceful and friendly to the Night Elf peoples and the Druids especially. The Legions desecration of the forest had turned them foul, and now we were being set upon by at last three of the treants. Using my other dagger, I sliced at the branch holding me on the ground and was able to rise from where I had been pushed over. The treant in front of me snarled and lunged at me. I ducked and rolled to the side, bringing the dagger up in front of me as I rose and plunged it into the back of the treant, just below the head area. The dagger dug deep into the bark and the treant went limp.
I turned to see a horrible sight. Lethan was fighting a losing battle against two of the creatures. He had managed to keep their attention off of me while I handled the single treant. With as much speed as I could muster, I reached for my bow and began to notch an arrow, but it was too late. Lethan, exhausted, could not stand up to the two treants. With a final screech he launched at the largest one, but was swatted aside by a massive, knotted hand. I shouted, no, I screamed out loud as he fell to the ground, a mess of blood and feathers.
With one dagger missing and the other stuck in the dead treant, all I had to defend myself was my bow, and I was at too close range for it to do me any good. The two corrupted treants advanced on me. Shouting and crying, I turned to run, to escape these murderous beasts, but my leg was caught by their long branch-like fingers and I tumbled forward as the treant pulled me back.
I had been beaten, and I had nearly given up hope when a light appeared from above me. The light was a brilliant white, and I heard a familiar flapping of wings as an object came swooping down on the treant which held me. The shocked treant let go and reached up to protect its face, but it was too late, as what was now recognizable as a pure white bird dug its talons deep into the face of the monster, immobilizing it. Without hesitation, the bird, seeing its first quarry now defeated, launched itself at the other treant with a powerful flap of its wings. The remaining treant, being alone and bested, began to lumber off into the forest as the bird gave chase.
I was alone now. I crawled over to where Lethan had fallen. His limp form lay up against the base of a regular immobile tree. His breathing was extremely shallow. His injuries were beyond even the best pet mending spells I knew. His head turned slowly to look at me as I cried, unable to assist my best friend. I heard him utter a soft hoot, as if to say goodbye, and then we both turned our heads to the sound of flapping, descending slowly upon us from the tree tops. It was an owl, similar in appearance to Lethan, but larger and with brilliant white feathers that seemed to glow. And in my grief, and shock, I did not even realize how odd it was when the white owl spoke to me. He spoke not with words, but in my mind.
Child, I am Olm the Wise, protector of these woods and aid to those of the Cenarion Circle. I knew your father, Lorathin. You remind me much of him. Brash, headstrong, and over-confident. But you are also strong and loyal. I see the pain that the loss of your companion has brought you. No one should walk these lands alone, especially in these dark days. I can help Lethan, but it will come at a cost, and he will not be exactly as he was. Can you accept this?
My face wet from tears, I nodded at Olm. My father had never mentioned him to me, though I knew that the Cenarion Circle enlisted many kinds of creatures to aid their mission to heal the forests corrupted by the Legion. Without Lethan, I would not be half the hunter that I was. Seeing me agree, Olm softly hooted and rose above the forest canopy, out of my sight. I looked to Lethan’s now lifeless form, still limp and broken against the tree.
A few seconds passed before something happened. Lethan’s body began to glow a feint green, and the light started to pulse, glowing brighter with each new wave. Without any visible force, the owl began to rise off the ground. I stood up as Lethan floated above my head and watched as the wings began to extend and his head turned forward. In a sudden flash of green and white light, I heard a piercing screech come from Lethan, shattering the silence. My eyes widened in wonder as I watched his mottled gray feathers drip from his body like tears, revealing a gleaming white feather coat beneath. It started at his tail and reached up to his wings and finally his head. When the transformation was complete, the light subsided and a glowing white owl flapped steadily in front of me.
“Lethan?” I ventured. The owl flew at me, hooting happily and danced in the air above my shoulders. He was back with me! I began to cry again, in joy this time for the return of my dear friend. Even with his new color, he was recognizable as the companion who had hunted with me since I left Teldrassil. Then, though I could not see him, I heard Olm speak to me again.
Child, in payment for the return of your companion, I ask one thing only. After you have traveled the land and seen the sufferings and joys of its people and explored to the far reaches seeking as much knowledge as you can, you must return to the Circle and serve them in whatever capacity they see fit. Your father would be proud of you. Now go.
As my mind cleared, so did an area in front of us, and through the clearing was a path to Talonbranch Glade up ahead. I knew in my heart I would return to help the Circle some day soon. I owed it to Olm. And to my father.
Friday, February 8, 2008
A Huntress is Born
We were a small family, making a living on the edge of the Ashenvale forest that bordered the Felwood. My father, Lorathin, was a disciple of Cenarius, the patron god of the Druids. His life's work involved seeking the healing of the Felwood, which had been destroyed thousands of years ago by the Burning Legion, a host of demons from beyond this world. The land had been scarred horribly; a jagged wasteland that once was a forest of immense beauty. My father believed it could be returned to its once beautiful state, and so he and the Cenarion Circle worked endlessly to see that dream come true.
Wethruien, my mother, was a healer, though she kept mostly to our home taking care of me, her only daughter. On occasion she would accompany my father to the camps in and around the Felwood to tend to injured travelers or members of the Circle who had had run-ins with the now feral Furbolg tribes. I grew up knowing love and finding my place at peace with the forests and animals around me.
When I was nearly 300, I declared my desire to be a huntress to my parents. Though they did not say it, I could tell they were taken aback. They had originally hoped I would follow my mother in service to Elune, and perhaps even train under Tyrande Whisperwind, but I was a free spirit, and could not see myself tied to a temple. The forest was my home, but it would soon be threatened by many factions.
They came uninvited and began to chop down the trees of the Ashenvale. Green, lumbering, oafs, mindlessly hacking away at growth that was as old and ancient as the Night Elves. It turned my stomach to see them invading our land, and solidified my desire to learn the art of the hunt. I was still young and head strong. My parents, in their wisdom, moved us west to avoid the skirmishes with the Orcs and our people, but soon it would not matter, for the Legion had returned.
The war to follow is well known and I will not put it down here, but what should be known is that my father, in service to Cenarius and our people, died at Mount Hyjal along with countless humans, orcs, trolls, and dwarves who all fought together against Archimonde and his demons. Though he was defeated, all Night Elves remember the day we became mortal, and mourn for those we lost. Grieving, my mother and I followed Archdruid Fangral Staghelm to Darkshore, where we were among the first Night Elves to move to the new World Tree, Teldrassil. My mother went to worship in the Temple of Elune, and that is where she spends most of her time to this day, praying for the ongoing battles of our people. I went to the nearby village of Shadowglen to begin my training as a huntress. There are many like me, seeking to learn the arts of battle to avenge those that we lost in the war.
Soon after I began my training, I went hunting in the Oracle Glade. While stopping for a drink, a screech owl swooped down and landed on my pack, which was lying on the ground next to me. I tried to shoo him away, but he insisted on pecking at one of the side pockets. I immediately became agitated as the bag had once belonged to my father and I did not want this silly owl to ruin it. After finally managing to get the mottled gray bird off the bag, I pulled open the pocket to see what he was so intent on. Inside was some boar meat, wrapped and packaged for dinner later that evening. I had more than enough, so I tore off a piece and threw it to the bird. He gobbled it quickly and then gazed at me with his large yellow eyes. Cocking his head slightly, he hooted at me, as if to ask if that was it. As I put the meat back in the pack, I felt something hard in the bottom of the pocket. I pulled out small metal token with the name "Lethan" imprinted on it.
Lethan was a nickname for Lorathin, my father. I had never really heard him called that except by a few of his friends from the Cenarion Circle, but he must have been called that growing up for it to be in his pack. The owl hooted once and then gave a short screech as he dove at the pack again. When I tried to shoo him once more, he snatched the nametag from my hand, but upon tasting the tarnished metal, he dropped it immediately. Exasperated, I gave him some more meat, and this time he looked a tad more content, but he did not leave. Sighing yet again, I stared at the owl. He was quick and observant, and his talons were sharp. The next stage of my training involved beast training. Most hunters had animal companions that assisted them in hunting, so maybe this owl could help me.
"Owl," I said firmly, "how would you like to become my hunting partner?" He stared at me unblinkingly, his head cocked to the side, which makes sense because he probably couldn't understand me. So I did something he would understand, I fed him the rest of the boar meat. I was pleasantly surprised when he did not leave after the meat had been finished. For a short while, we sat there in the forest, and when I rose to head back to the village, he came with me.
As we made our way back, I spoke to him again, something I would find myself doing often in the future, whether I thought he could understand me or not.
"If we're going to be friends, I will have to name you. Owl just doesn't have good ring to it. Do you have a preference?" The owl swooped down beside me and grasped the side of my pack much like he had done when I first met him. I gave him a quizzical look and reached into the pocket to find the name tag again. "Lethan, is it? Well, if you're going to be Lethan, then you have a lot to live up to my friend." Screeching loudly, he flew on ahead, apparently pleased with his new name.
Wethruien, my mother, was a healer, though she kept mostly to our home taking care of me, her only daughter. On occasion she would accompany my father to the camps in and around the Felwood to tend to injured travelers or members of the Circle who had had run-ins with the now feral Furbolg tribes. I grew up knowing love and finding my place at peace with the forests and animals around me.
When I was nearly 300, I declared my desire to be a huntress to my parents. Though they did not say it, I could tell they were taken aback. They had originally hoped I would follow my mother in service to Elune, and perhaps even train under Tyrande Whisperwind, but I was a free spirit, and could not see myself tied to a temple. The forest was my home, but it would soon be threatened by many factions.
They came uninvited and began to chop down the trees of the Ashenvale. Green, lumbering, oafs, mindlessly hacking away at growth that was as old and ancient as the Night Elves. It turned my stomach to see them invading our land, and solidified my desire to learn the art of the hunt. I was still young and head strong. My parents, in their wisdom, moved us west to avoid the skirmishes with the Orcs and our people, but soon it would not matter, for the Legion had returned.
The war to follow is well known and I will not put it down here, but what should be known is that my father, in service to Cenarius and our people, died at Mount Hyjal along with countless humans, orcs, trolls, and dwarves who all fought together against Archimonde and his demons. Though he was defeated, all Night Elves remember the day we became mortal, and mourn for those we lost. Grieving, my mother and I followed Archdruid Fangral Staghelm to Darkshore, where we were among the first Night Elves to move to the new World Tree, Teldrassil. My mother went to worship in the Temple of Elune, and that is where she spends most of her time to this day, praying for the ongoing battles of our people. I went to the nearby village of Shadowglen to begin my training as a huntress. There are many like me, seeking to learn the arts of battle to avenge those that we lost in the war.
Soon after I began my training, I went hunting in the Oracle Glade. While stopping for a drink, a screech owl swooped down and landed on my pack, which was lying on the ground next to me. I tried to shoo him away, but he insisted on pecking at one of the side pockets. I immediately became agitated as the bag had once belonged to my father and I did not want this silly owl to ruin it. After finally managing to get the mottled gray bird off the bag, I pulled open the pocket to see what he was so intent on. Inside was some boar meat, wrapped and packaged for dinner later that evening. I had more than enough, so I tore off a piece and threw it to the bird. He gobbled it quickly and then gazed at me with his large yellow eyes. Cocking his head slightly, he hooted at me, as if to ask if that was it. As I put the meat back in the pack, I felt something hard in the bottom of the pocket. I pulled out small metal token with the name "Lethan" imprinted on it.
Lethan was a nickname for Lorathin, my father. I had never really heard him called that except by a few of his friends from the Cenarion Circle, but he must have been called that growing up for it to be in his pack. The owl hooted once and then gave a short screech as he dove at the pack again. When I tried to shoo him once more, he snatched the nametag from my hand, but upon tasting the tarnished metal, he dropped it immediately. Exasperated, I gave him some more meat, and this time he looked a tad more content, but he did not leave. Sighing yet again, I stared at the owl. He was quick and observant, and his talons were sharp. The next stage of my training involved beast training. Most hunters had animal companions that assisted them in hunting, so maybe this owl could help me.
"Owl," I said firmly, "how would you like to become my hunting partner?" He stared at me unblinkingly, his head cocked to the side, which makes sense because he probably couldn't understand me. So I did something he would understand, I fed him the rest of the boar meat. I was pleasantly surprised when he did not leave after the meat had been finished. For a short while, we sat there in the forest, and when I rose to head back to the village, he came with me.
As we made our way back, I spoke to him again, something I would find myself doing often in the future, whether I thought he could understand me or not.
"If we're going to be friends, I will have to name you. Owl just doesn't have good ring to it. Do you have a preference?" The owl swooped down beside me and grasped the side of my pack much like he had done when I first met him. I gave him a quizzical look and reached into the pocket to find the name tag again. "Lethan, is it? Well, if you're going to be Lethan, then you have a lot to live up to my friend." Screeching loudly, he flew on ahead, apparently pleased with his new name.
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