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?”

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.

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.