Preparations for the Coming
The Temple of the Moon in Vordanaar was indeed an impressive sight. Though relatively small in size, it's location on the shore of large moonwell in a heavily forested glade south of the city itself, combined with the beautifully yet humbly painted exterior created a magical and fitting shrine to the Goddess of the Moon, Elune. Aside from that, it also served as the most important governmental building in Vordanaar, which in turn was the strongest night elf state.
Archdruid Fandral Staghelm had called a meeting in the Temple. Attendants were the Priestess of the Moon and the leader of the Sentinels, Tyrande Whisperwind, her deputy leader Artheldrin, leader of the Cenarion Circle, Remulos and the ambassador of the Shen'dralar, Lorekeeper Tylas. The meeting was held in a small room on the second floor, with a great view to the lake. Fandral was the first one to speak.
"Elune-Adore and thank you all for attending. Your presence here is of critical importance."
The others were listening closely. Only Tyrande and Tylas were completely aware of the matter at hand but they let Fandral break the news.
"We all know of the rising qiraji threat so no need to go through all that. I invited you because of a new development on the subject. Before they kept mostly to themselves, their only interaction with other races being burgling and murdering. Well, that has changed now. I don't even want to know why but the Sandfury trolls have forged an alliance with the qiraji."
Tyrande and Tylas didn't show any emotions but Remulos and Artheldrin gasped at the news.
"But… aren't trolls a mortal enemy of the qiraji? I mean they've fought far longer than the others against those bugs." asked Artheldrin clearly concerned.
"And that makes it all the more surprising. Of all the races, why trolls? The old empires of the Aqir and Gurubashi were the greatest of their time and ever since their fall, their last legacies, qiraji and the various troll tribes have just slaughtered each other's. Fandral, do you have any possible information why this happened?" Tyrande turned to look at the druid.
"No but I know that the Sandfury chieftain was murdered very lately. All of this happened after the tragic event. The qiraji must have somehow executed or assisted in some kind of coup d'etat which underlines the danger they pose to Kalimdor."
"Kalimdor itself hasn't suffered yet, Fandral. The Cenarion Circle stands with the Wild, not with any race, not even with the night elves."
"Haven't you felt a dark power resonating from somewhere in the southern deserts, Remulos?"
"The qiraji clearly wield some new kind of magic but the Circle can't say anything about its origin."
Fandral frowned. Remulos' answer wasn't what he hoped for.
"Lorekeeper, do you know something of value about their abilities?"
"They are seldom seen by the Shen'dralar. Most of what we know about them comes from the tauren. For some reason, they have left us alone for now. However, what we've heard is highly concerning. They're told to command a mass of normal insects, use some strange magic and in addition they've got brute strength. No one knows about their goals. Yet the Shen'dralar considers these new developments a clear threat to Eldre'Thalas, which is why we've sought this rapprochement between our peoples."
"We shall stand with the Shen'dralar, Lorekeeper. However, we mustn't act prematurely. Peace has been maintained for millennia and… I don't think I'll be ready for a new war."
A somber look crept to Tyrande's face.
"I still remember Zin-Azshari, Suramar and intact Kalimdor unlike some of you. Even if the qiraji aren't as great a threat as the Burning Legion, no one knows the outcome. Whatever happens, we should avoid a war."
Fandral took an understanding look on the High Priestess. Every night elf revered her because of her role in defeating the Burning Legion. He also understood her emptiness and sorrow over Malfurion's absence and Illidan's downfall.
"I agree. However, we cannot put this matter aside. The qiraji threat must be contained or we'll soon find them on our doorstep. My proposition is this: we send them an alliance proposal and perhaps some reparations if they pull back into their stronghold and live like the rest of Kalimdor's peoples."
The others looked far from convinced. Artheldrin and Tylas opposed the move and Tyrande didn't trust the plan's chances of success. Only Remulos supported the move.
"Very wise, Archdruid. Even if they decline, we should try to maintain peace. If they decline and a war arises, the Cenarion Circle will join you."
Tyrande nodded ad Remulos' comment.
"The chance of success is extremely low. However, I think it's the best way forward. Let's pray Elune they accept, otherwise the Sentinels shall ride again."
Sirexx's dreams were not as peaceful as they used to be. An odd yet welcoming feeling clouded them, as if it called him to embrace the mist surrounding him. However, Sirexx wasn't ready to join the mist just yet. A troubling feeling warned him to defy the welcoming sensation. Just as he was about to get his mind cleared, a heavy headache stroked him. Amid the pain, a voice called to him.
"The time is approaching. Take your place. Destroy all who oppose you. Everyone is your enemy. KILL. THEM. ALL."
Sirexx woke up immediately. This was not the first time he was hearing voices. However, he hadn't spoken of them to anyone and didn't really know what to think. Was he losing his mind? Who would be able to infiltrate his dreams, his mind unless…, the Creator himself? Only Skeram himself had a right to announce anything about the Creator and doing otherwise led easily to a blasphemy charge. And why would he be the only one to hear them. He didn't even know if he were. He could ask this comrades but perhaps it would be better to stay quiet for a moment. Sirexx didn't want to risk claiming to be the Skeram's superior, even to his friends.
As Sirexx was getting up from his bed, a wasp emerged from his open window. It rubbed its antennae together to create a sound comprehensible to a qiraji. The two races could communicate with their antennae, creating tiny ripples in the air the other could understand. This communication was very crude however, and you could only give simple information or commands with it. The wasp's message was clear, Sa'rol required Sirexx's squad.
Sa'rol was unusually tense. He seemed agitated and offended but clearly not at Danoxx or his comrades. The prophet was browsing "Prophecy of Skeram" when the four arrived. The qiraji books had a hole in the middle of them so you could put your chela through and browse with the other one. Usually Sa'rol was waiting his subordinates standing on his podium at the back of the rather large room. Now however, he was walking around it deep in thought. When he noticed the presence of the Unseen, Sa'rol raised his gaze.
"Who do they think they are? No one marches to our lands to demand an audience with Skeram!"
Danoxx looked puzzled. It was unlike Sa'rol to start the discussion this fast.
"Who are you talking about? And why are they still alive if this concerns you?"
"Because Skeram allows it! Of course I abide by the Prophet's decision but I cannot stand anyone being this arrogant. And I'm talking about night elves. They have sent a group ten to give our high command an offer but they didn't tell what it was."
"So how does this affect us? Isn't this a matter left to the capital?"
"Mostly yes but we cannot let them march through our lands unchecked. And given your success finding Sul'Thraze, I thought you deserve the honor to guard the meeting between the elves and the Prophet and his council.
Danoxx or the others couldn't believe their ears. They, one of the five squads stationed in Tanaris were allowed to see the Prophet, let alone guard him? Sirexx was stunned.
This can't be happening. No Unseen is even supposed to ever see the Prophet. This is… just unbelievable. I don't even know what to think!
Sirexx's attention turned to the pictures in the ceilings of the room which told one of the most precious legends of the qiraji. It told about their race's creation from the silithid. Upon their race's birth they were known as the Aqir, but with the downfall of the united Aqir empire, it's fragments were forced to form civilizations of their own. There were some speculation about the fate of the other Aqir but the ones stranded in Silithus were lost at first. The empire was ruled by a highly powerful Aqir whose appearance and name was lost to history.
After centuries of Aqir rule, the qiraji were highly divided and primitive but with the Emperors' secretive guidance and Skeram's leadership they soon regrouped. They formed highly efficient camps and invented more developed technologies. They turned from barbaric Aqir into present qiraji with Skeram's lead. And he, a lowly Unseen, was going to guard him…
"But… surely the Prophet has guards of his own? What can we do?"
"He does have his elite guards but we've seen the night elves can be quite viciously fast and stealthy. Possibly too much so. But I trust you're ready to prevent any possible interruptions?"
"We… we are. If the night elves try anything, they're done for. Thank you for this honor, Sa'rol."
"It's no mere honor, Danoxx. Our position is favorable to begin overseeing the night elves and I don't think anyone's more qualified here than you four. But remember, we're talking about the Prophet's safety here. Under no circumstance forget that or both your current and future lives will be forfeit."
Sirexx knew this very well. One of the other squads had accidentally led a group of revenge-hungry tauren to the Promise after a thus-far successful mission. The tauren had attacked one of the prophets but didn't manage to kill him. However, the squad was directly accused of the accident. The punishment was dire: the four were burned outside the central building after the prophets had cast a curse, causing the fires to burn their souls as if they were a part of their bodies. Losing one's soul was the worst punishment a qiraji could suffer: losing one's place in the Creator's promised land of eternal joy and power was an ever-present horror in each and every qiraji's life.
The accident had disturbed Sirexx greatly. Though he knew Ahn'Qiraj's laws and punishments, he wasn't sure if such an eternal curse was really needed and seeing it in action was a harsh warning to the others. And that was just an ordinary prophet from the Promise. Stakes would certainly be higher with the Prophet. Sirexx decided to voice his concerns outside.
"Let's hope we know what we're doing, Ke'nir. Failing this task will claim our time in this life and eternity in the next. I'm not sure if I'm ready for this."
"I bet Skeram could do even worse. We can only pray the night elves don't do anything surprising… I'd guess we're faster than any of them but considering stakes, I'm worried."
"So what? We're talking about the Prophet here. Be proud you are in charge of his safety and stop whining. Many would give anything to even see Skeram!"
"Aren't you worried Ra'jol? We have but the highest of respects toward him but you can't deny the risks."
"I cannot, Sirexx. But if we let the Prophet get hurt, then we deserve everything he decides to do."
Sirexx sighed. He couldn't deny Ra'jol's logic as it was what was demanded from the lower castes. Yet it didn't make him feel any better. Whatever would happen, Sirexx prayed he and his comrades were up to the task.
