A/N: Hey lookit! Another update and it WASN'T a year later! How about that? :) I hope they continue this way lol! Anyway, enjoy! Any mistakes, I apologize for, I usually don't edit or look over my work cause I don't have time for that and I don't have anyone to do it for me.
Chapter 25: Really Sick of Stranglethorn
"Are we lost?" Came Shana's hesitant, flat voice from behind. Having long grown accustomed to the dry, somewhat disturbing voice that the forsaken had, Ver wasn't bothered by the sound of the words. What bothered her was the question, voiced for the third time since leaving the main trail out of Booty Bay. Verfanas took in a deep breath to reign in her notorious temper, before turning to give the undead girl a flat stare.
Shana frowned, her grey features twisting into a frustrated look.
A snicker had her turning a glare onto Umber, riding beside her on a large black steed. He grinned cheekily back at her and touched two fingers to his temple in a jaunty wave. Ver rolled her eyes. When would her rogue ever grow up? Men. He waggled his eyebrows at her, as if reading her thoughts. A stray branch brushing the top of her head effectively distracted her from chastising the errant human.
Ver frowned harder. The oppressive heat, closely crowded undergrowth, and strange jungle sounds had everyone on edge and she didn't like the idea that the others thought they were lost.
They weren't lost…just…
"We are, aren't we?" Bessany's rough, low voice interrupted her inner musings. The Tauren shifted uncomfortably on the large ram she was riding. It was the only mount they could find in Booty Bay that they could find large enough to carry her considerable weight; a reliable creature that had participated in the Brewfest games several months ago. Uneasy off the ground, Bessany kept a tight grip on the reigns and eyed her mount askance, not at all reassured by its slow, methodical gate and easy acceptance of her commands.
She spared a sidelong look of sympathy for the forsaken while still keeping an eye on her ram. She knew that although Shana portrayed an attitude of uncaring, aloof sarcasm when around them, the undead girl was in fact nearly as inexperienced as Anaiya when it came to the dangers of Azeroth, having never been anywhere outside of Undercity until her mission with the paladin in the ghostlands outside Silvermoon City. Being a Druid, Bessany was quite prepared for exploration, questing, meeting new people and helping others. Interacting with the other faction did not bother her in the slightest since Moonglade was all about furthering the goals of the Druids rather than a single faction's needs. She wondered absently how it was for Shana, to be thrust into a group of Alliance members with not even her Elven companion to help soften the interaction.
"We need to hurry. We need to find him. Them." Shana called again, sounding agitated. The forsaken was riding a skeletal steed decked in full battle armor, compliments of a fellow forsaken who had been in Booty Bay and sold her the creature. "A paladin isn't much use without his battle armor." She persisted when no one responded to her almost plea.
Ver grit her teeth, grinding her canines together to keep from snapping at the Priestess. A soft sigh came from Laris, riding a mechanical contraption that no on the in the group wanted to get too close to, in case it blew up, or some other disaster befell it. Gnomish engineering was notorious, not just for unique inventions. 'Oh sure,' Ver thought sarcastically as she kept pushing ahead through the tangle of jungle fauna.
'So worried about your precious Horde friend. At least he's better able to protect himself then Ana is. He might not have his armor, but he can still do a fair amount of damage if he puts his mind to it. Ana on the other hand, has barely grasped the concept of shapeshifting, which is a Feral classed druid's main weapon. He better keep her safe,' she thought darkly.
She didn't realize she'd actually muttered the last bit out loud until she saw Umber giving her a sympathetic look out of the corner of her eye. Her mount, her trusted battle cat, padded along the jungle floor, avoiding various logs, deadly plants, and other obstructions. Truthfully, she knew she wasn't lost. Even if a jungle wasn't an ideal setting for a Night Elf, she still had her innate skill at directions. And she could tell by the position of the sun how far they travelled and in which direction. But that didn't help them find Anaiya and Key.
The pair could be anywhere in this bloody place and Ver could very well pass within several feet of them and never know it. And she didn't dare call out, for fear of calling down who knows what on their own location, or worse yet, on the pair's location. She sighed heavily again, for what felt the millionth time. Why, oh why did Anaiya have to let curiosity get the better of her! Why did she have to investigate that infernal contraption at Everlook? When she got a hold of that girl, she was going to give her such a scolding. She may have become an adult, at least by her people's standards, but she was still young and apparently capable of making foolish, rash decisions. Ver snorted as that reminded her of herself at Ana's age. Ver instinctively squeezed her knees in to keep her balance as the large armored feline leaped over a fallen log. 'Better keep his hands to himself too.' She thought with a wry smirk.
Another wet fern slapped her in the face and she scowled. Stranglethorn was her least favorite place in all of the Eastern Kingdoms. It was hot, it was full of raptors, Trolls, and pirates, it was at the butt end of the continent, and it always seemed to be either raining or on the verge of doing so. The air was so thick and hot and heavy with humidity that Umber could have sliced it with his daggers. She flinched instinctively, nearly shapeshifting right there, as a tree to her left suddenly became incased with ice so cold that the tree and surrounding area turned blue. The leaves instantly shriveled from the cold and fell and the bark glistened with deadly frost. After her racing heart had calmed down, she swiveled in her seat.
The others behind her were also recovering from various degrees of alarm, all except Laris. Ver narrowed her eyes at him. The gnome glanced around at the glares being directed his way and turned slightly pink. He hastily shut a large arcane tome that had been hovering a few inches below his hand, violet runes glowing off the pages. He stowed the book in a saddle bag and studiously avoided looking at Ver, muttering a quick, embaressed apology. Ver rolled her eyes. Here she was, trying to remain quiet and inconspicuous here in the middle of the jungle and the resident mage had to give into his urge to damage something. Figures.
"When I talked to Ana, she said she could hear Troll drums. That means they must be deep in Troll territory. To the west." Ver spoke, turning to Umber. She said it loudly enough that the others heard. She didn't want them to worry unnecessarily. She was rewarded by the slight clearing of Shana's ghastly facial expression. So the forsaken truly was worried about her companion then, Ver mused.
Somehow she'd always imagined the Horde to be a bunch of selfish, pretentious war mongers. She could respect Shana's loyalty though, for sure. And she admitted that Key wasn't that bad either, for a self absorbed, vain, womanizing, magic addicted elf. She peered into the tangle of trunks, plants and vines as if she could pierce through the foliage that separated her from her niece. A brightly colored bird watched them nervously from a large green branch. Undergrowth whispered with the passage of some slinking, unknown predator. The others trailed to a half behind Ver as she considered their options. Since leaving the main path, they'd followed faint or badly neglected side trails, always heading in a westerly direction. Truthfully, she'd thought they'd come across something by now.
It was just so frustrating. They had no way of tracking their two companions and Ver lamented the fact that she didn't visit the trade section by the docks and see about finding a hunter to help them track. She was in too much of a hurry to find Ana, knowing somehow that the other druid was in trouble.
"We'll find them Ver." Umber said softly, reaching over and rubbing the night elf's hands in a soothing gesture. Ver glanced over at the human and felt her lips quirking up into a fond smile.
"We need to rescue her soon." She replied. "I just have this…feeling, that she's in danger and she needs us. Our task isn't finished. We've all been brought together by the Green Dragonflight, I know that for sure, and that trapped dragon soul that Ana is carrying is the key to something very important. I can feel it. We need to find her!" Her voice became sharp as she scanned the surrounding area again. Which way to go? How to find them? They could travel the entire length and breadth of the Vale and still find no sign of the pair, that's how dense the foliage was in this blasted jungle.
'Elune grant me a sign,' Ver lamented to herself, biting her lip. She eyed the "road" they had been following for the last little while. The jungle hardly needed any incentive to take back what belonged to it by rights and the Steamwheedle Cartel, who ran Booty Bay, deliberately kept the trails in a state of misuse so that they could make a lucrative profit off maps and guides and other tools to help a would be adventurer brave the jungle. Thankfully they hadn't encountered any threats of real obstacles as of yet.
"This way." Ver finally announced, gesturing into the thicker tangle directly to the west. There was no discernible trail or indication that that direction was a sensible route, but Ver had a feeling, some kind of sixth sense, that told her she'd find Ana in that direction. Shana gave their intended route a dubious look then scrunched up her face. It made her dead-like features look even worse. The dwarf, slightly behind her on another ram, chuckled at her expression. Of the lot of them, the dwarf seemed to be having the best time. He had been glancing around him with sharp, fascinated eyes, taking note of anything that might indicate a promising archeological site. He'd heard about the great Armani Empire, and that its ruins were still deep in the jungle, waiting to be discovered and archived. If one survived the Trolls, pirates, large predators, ogres, and other threats the jungle offered. Krom wasn't one to be put off by the threat of danger.
Not for the first time, Ver wondered why the dwarf even wanted to come along on their rescue mission. Sure she'd commandeered his ship, but he could have stayed in Booty Bay, or even stayed on his ship. But no, he'd come along with them into the jungle, explaining that he was eager to see if he could find some ancient Troll ruins. Ver worried that the larger their group grew, the more attention they would draw. She knew, somehow, that there was someone out there that had to be monitoring their progress and wanting them to fail. The multiple attacks they'd endured had given testament to that. Something evil and powerful had taken interest in their little quest and she worried about the consequences. What was their end game here?
After they freed the trapped dragon soul…what then? She didn't believe that they'd all just go back to their separate lives again. A force had meticulously brought a group of diverse characters together and she wasn't ignorant enough to believe a dragon's soul was the prize. As soon as the opportunity arose, she was going to do some research on that temple she found the soul gem in, and what the connections all meant.
"Just think o' it as a new adventure, lass." The dwarf said loudly to Shana in an attempt to comfort the forsaken.
Shana raised half an eyebrow. "So far I've found this "adventure" to be anything but that." She snorted. "I'm only here because Keyanomir foolishly fancies that weak little elf girl. As soon as he beds her and gets over her we'll be on our way back to Silvermoon, where we can find someone to cure his ailment, like we should have done ages ago." She sniffed, nose in the air in an attempt at aloofness. She felt eyes boring into her head and glanced up to catch Ver's smoldering death glare and gulped. She grabbed her undead steed's reigns tighter and yanked the creature back a couple of steps, until backing into Bessany's ram. "Ahem. This way you said?" She made an enthusiastic attempt at entering the jungle growth.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Ver spoke a Kaldorei word to her mount, moving after Shana. Vines slapped at her arms and head and she was thankful to be wearing tight fitting leather to protect her bare flesh. A few clear spaces broke up the dense local flora and all were scrutinized carefully for evidence of Ana and Key.
"Wait!" Bessany called suddenly, holding up a large furred hand. "I hear…something." She frowned, staring sharply ahead, ears straining. Ver placed her hand on her cat's broad head to halt its movement. "What is it?" She offered, feeling a flare of hope making her heart beat faster. She lifted her own head, tilting her chin slightly to catch any sound.
"It sounds like…drums."
"Drums." Ver echoed her at the same time. They shared a triumphant look. "Wha' is it lass? I don' get it?" Krom asked, fingering his beard. "The savage Troll tribes of the jungle use drums to signal each other and for ceremonies and rituals." Shana explained with a sniff. Krom turned and studied her. "What?" She asked, somewhat defensively. "I was a scholar before I decided to become a healer for adventurers." Krom grinned. "Nay lass, I like a smart gal." He winked at her, causing her to both look perplexed and pleased at the same time.
Bessany's bell shaped ears flicked forward and back. "I think it's coming from the direction we've been going in." She pointed and Ver nodded. "I agree. Let's go." Umber frowned. "Verfie darling, drums don't really prove anything, you know that. There could be any number of Troll tribes living out here. How do we know that those are the same drums that Ana heard? It would be an awfully strange coincidence, don't you think?"
"Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?" Ver replied, with a knowing look. Umber just look confused, not understanding. "Never mind. Trust me, these are the same Trolls. Let's go, I have a bad feeling." Ver gave another soft command to her cat and the feline leaped ahead. The others scrambled to keep up, not having time to breathe any more protests.
"Venoxxis!" The large red snake creature hissed furiously.
Hakkar swiveled to look around, coils tightening reflexively. Red hot fury coursed through the Blood God's mind. His most loyal shadow priest seemed to have mysteriously disappeared from his mental map not but a short breath ago. When he reached for telltale signature that was Zan'kaja's mind, he encountered a strange barrier that presented in his mind as a shining wall fueled with green nature magic but also streaked with whorls of black, like a force was shielding the mind of the Troll from his inner sight. Worse yet, the force was the same taste as that of the corrupted section of the Emerald Dream where the dragon consort was trapped.
Which shouldn't be possible. Not only was the corruption of the Emerald Dream and the dragon consort his plan to begin with, but the Hakkari Trolls were wholly his creation, molded over the centuries to always be dependent upon his will. They were his to play with and use as he saw fit. They had sworn allegiance to him long ago, giving up everything, including their very souls, in exchange for power, protection, and shelter from the other warring tribes. They had built Zul'Gurub, a mighty empire, specifically on his orders, to fulfill his needs as their all-powerful god.
They gave him living sacrifice to satisfy his neverending lust for blood and death. And now one of his attendants appears to have turned his back on the Blood God. Hakkar, in his pride and state of power, could not let even one of the foolish mortal creatures escape his grasp. It could weaken his hold over the others, which in turn would weaken his power base. As much as these foolish creatures called him their god and worshipped at his altar, he was not in fact, an all seeing, immortal god. He was a force of nature, a primal elemental spirit that had been on Azeroth before it was ever known as Azeroth. It caused his blood to boil to admit that the world had changed so much that he was forced to resort to this, relying on these pitiful mortal savages, to provide him with strength and power. His ultimate goal, to bring blood and death raining down upon the pitiful civilizations that dared to take this world from him, relied upon his control of the Hakkari Trolls. He needed to create the Sceptor, and in order to form the weapon, he needed the Shard that had been gifted to the Green Dragonflight for protection.
It had taken him many a generation to set into motion events that would lead to Erannikus the Dreamer's downfall at the Temple of Atal'Hakkar. And when the dragon consort had been nearly within his grasp, it had all nearly been ruined by some nosey, good for nothing Night Elf who had come poking her nose in the temple where it didn't belong. Hakkar had watched impotently through the minds of his priests as the Night Elf and her allies had destroyed his source of power at the temple and put an end to his goals of becoming fully corporeal in this world. Then, to top it off, she'd taken the imprisonment gem that held the dragon's soul with her. Hakkar had raged for days than. But then, a stroke of luck. Some other nosey elf had fallen under the dark spell of the corrupted Emerald Dream and had taken it upon herself to free the trapped dragon soul. And to his utter glee, she'd suddenly appeared on his front step, nearly at the doors of Zul'Gurub itself. He could have danced with glee. So he'd sent out his strongest Troll ally to fetch the soul gem, so that he could extract the dragon's essence, torture it until he had his Shard, and proceed with his plans. Except…now Zan'kaja had been magically shielded from him.
Hakkar roared, causing a few nearby handmaidens to flinch. A few of his spawn, small red snake-like beings with webbed wings, recoiled with fear.
A flurry of movement announced the arrival of the High Priest Venoxxis.
"My lord Hakkar!" Venoxxis fell to his knees, heedless of his expensive, embroidered robes, and murmured meaningless words of flattery.
Despite being his most loyal followers, his High Priests actually rarely came into his presence; instead communicating subconsciously whenever he had orders or directions for them to carry out. They were the ones who brought him sacrifices, who kept him fed and satisfied, despite their lack of physical contact with their dread god. Which of course, the priests were immensely grateful for. The insignificant fleas were so simple, harboring their secret fears and ambitions. But of course Hakkar saw it all. Venoxxis, the High Priest of the arachnid quarter, was one of the less intelligent of his servants, but he was the most loyal.
Hakkar's rule was total and there hadn't been much danger or threats inside the city in decades. Except for the occasional invasion by groups of aspiring would-be heroes thinking to make a name for themselves by slaying the blight upon the jungle. They hardly knew what they were in for when they entered Hakkar's domain, and by the time they figured it out, it was too late. Bones lay scattered and piled in the many waterways that intersected the great city. Hakkar liked it that way. He loved seeing the aftermath of his bloody wars. It was enough to make his muzzle form a toothy grin in dark amusement. But then his mood, mercurial at best, darkened again and Venoxxis, instinctively sensing this, cringed slightly. Hakkar gnashed his teeth in primal fury.
He needed to find out why his High Priest was being blocked from his mind. Actually, now that he pondered and prodded at the connection, it seemed more like something else was distorting his senses, not something that Zan'kaja was doing himself, but something in his near vicinity that was causing the confusion and clouding of the mind. Hakkar's two hearts sped up in excitement. It could only be the soul gem! Zan'kaja must have found the container of the consort's soul. That was the only artifact that entered this equation that was also powerful enough to blur his psychic power to the point where he couldn't even pinpoint his loyal subject's location. Just a vague sense that he was to the southeast somewhere. What a frustrating feeling for one so powerful.
Hakkar felt his hatred and anger pushing at his mind, pulsing in his blood, a nearly physical thing. He knew though that if he unleashed the blood plague he was notorious for, he would end up killing off quite a few of his loyal minions and for now he needed the weak minded Trolls to do his bidding. Until he could complete the ritual to fully enter this plane of existence, he was stuck here in this city, unable to do anything but direct others like pawns. His large wings suddenly flared open in his bridled fury, catching an unwary troll by surprise and sending her tumbling off the dais with a startled cry of pain. Blood oozed out from under the body as she landed below and Hakkar was momentarily soothed by the sight. He chuckled darkly.
Venoxxis, watching silently, felt his face pale. He stared at the poor unfortunate female with dismay, but kept his thoughts carefully blank so as not to let on how disgusted he was by the lack of care for mortal life that Hakkar displayed. He reminded himself yet again that this was the price they paid to have an all powerful patron take them under his wing. After all, they had sought him out when their people were starving and dying in the jungle, unable to survive against the stronger, more bloodthirsty tribes after the fall of the Armani Empire.
Hakkar turned his full attention back to Venoxxis, soulless blue eyes boring into the Troll until he felt like his mind might explode from the weight of the vast creature's presence. Words began forming in his mind, painting his orders clearly—
"My Lord Hakkar!" A male bat rider quickly ascended the steps to the snake god's throne, prostrating himself obscenely before the coiling mass of ruby scales. Hakkar turned suddenly, wrenching himself out of his Priest's mind. Venoxxis moaned and swayed at the abrupt and painful departure. The Blood God slithered forward and stared down at the unfortunate emissary, a shadow of death. The bat rider kept his face down to hide his terror.
"What issss it, fool!" Hakkar finally spat in anger when the courier just continued to shake.
The bat rider stilled, finally lifting himself up but keeping his eyes on the stone flagstones of the altar.
"My Lord! A group of Alliance members have breached our outer defenses and seem intent on annihilating everything in their path. They have destroyed the bat hatcheries. They are very strong and carry plenty of magical weapons My Lord. What should we do?" The mortal sounded frantic with concern.
Hakkar would have rolled his eyes in the fashion of said mortal if possible. Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that his very nature deemed him unable to survive without the blood and destruction and death that he was able to harvest on Azeroth, he'd have given up on this world long ago and found some other promising abode. But Azeroth was ripe for the pickings, left vulnerable by the attack of the demonic forces of Sargeras and the Sundering and the countless other deadly threats it faced.
Truthfully, he was rather impressed with how these so called Horde and Alliance managed to keep their precious world from being destroyed long ago. But he had laid claim to this ball of dirt long before those insignificant blood bags had even learned they were sentient. Long before those so called Titans came and molded the world into their playground. And it would be his world once again, Hakkar vowed.
"Ssssend the bat and raptor riderssss to deal with the problem. And I will sssssend ssseveral High Priessssts to aid you, sssshould you prove too incompetent to deal with the threat yourselvesss." Hakkar glared at the courier threateningly when he made to protest. "If thesssee 'heroessss' breach the inner wallssss of the city, your family will by my favored ssssacrifice for generationssss to come." His sibilant promise, delivered in barely more than a whisper, set Venoxxis's neck hairs on end. The other Troll's blue skin became almost gray. He bowed low again, nearly touching the stone step with his forehead.
"Oh, and unleash Gahz'ranka on thissss ssss called invasion. I'm ssssure he'd love to play with them." Hakkar called after the man as he fled the dais.
Hakkar felt his reptilian face split with a malevolent grin. Oh how he loved the feeling of controlling these pathetic little worms. He relished in their greed for power and safety, their willingness to do absolutely anything to keep their status as a powerful empire to be rivaled by the rest of the world. All Hakkar wanted was to see the world drenched in blood, to have every living creature on his ball of mud bow down to his will, to die at his command. Savagery and destruction. These Trolls were so easy to manipulate, with promises of grand cities, a rebuilding of their vast civilization of old. He was addicted to the rush of power, of blood that the sacrifices gave him. Although he could feel a subtle change in this generation of Trolls.
They were not as quick to offer their young and females. They were not as devout, or unwavering. They questioned, and hesitated. No matter, he would show them all his deadly power when he completed the Sceptor and took hold of the powers of the sand.
The bat rider scout drew to a halt at the foot of the pavilion and bowed low. His commander, BloodLord Mandokir, waved him forward. A large dusky orange raptor stood nearby, claws clicking as it stared menacingly at the newcomer. Knowing his news wasn't the most promising, the scout cringed, wondering if he'd be fed to the pet raptor, Oghan.
"My Lord Mandokir," the hapless scout said, after regaining his breath. "Lord Hakkar is…unimpressed with the invaders. He warns us that if we are unable to stop them, our families are forfeit." The scout felt a little better implicating everyone in the Blood God's threat, thus encouraging everyone to dispatch the foes as best they could with the threat of their loved ones on the line.
BloodLord Mandokir sneered. "Hakkar told you this?" He didn't look pleased by the lack of aid granted. "Very well. My men are more than enough to repel these invaders anyway. He knew Hakkar was the all powerful god they all looked to for their continued existence, but Mandokir had his doubts about Hakkar's idea of their well being. He knew that the lesser races were harder to kill then cockroaches and he yearned to send more forces at them, to throw as many men as he could into the melee in the hopes of stopping them cold before they had the chance to worm their way farther into the mazelike pathways of his city. It infuriated him to know that these intruders were destroying his people; killing indiscriminately in their desire to rid the world of what they perceived was a threat to their precious kingdoms. Mandokir smiled, a truly chilling expression, as he imagined displaying the invaders' bodies outside the city walls as a warning to future heroes thinking that the empire of Zul'Gurub was ripe for the pickings.
"Hakkar did say we could unleash Gahz'ranka on them." The scout helpfully supplied, no doubt hoping to avoid becoming Oghan's next meal. Mandokir patted his loyal companion on the neck, rubbing affectionately down his shining orange scales. The raptor tilted his head in pleasure, displaying dozens of tiny sharp teeth. "Very well, release the hydra."
Ysera looked upon the physical realm of Azeroth and felt tears gather in her rainbow-hued eyes. It always brought her pain to see others suffer. Like her sister Alexstrasza the Life-Binder, she revered all life and hated to it see it snuffed out. Sadness clutched at her form as she watched her chosen mortal champion, the night elf Anaiya, fall upon the blood elf's body, weeping. Yet she knew she could not intervene. This scenario must be allowed to run its course, as Nozdormu had cautioned her when he had approached her all those years ago with the warning that her beloved and favored Prime Consort, Erannikus, would fall into darkness and corruption. He had told her that a great threat to the world was stirring and it would all being with the corruption of her mate and the decisions of one mortal girl. She was proud of her champion, who had already changed so much from the innocent, naïve and inexperienced girl she'd been in Darnassus.
Much more hardship was still to come though, and she hoped Anaiya would not falter. A young member of her flight approached, head bowed in greeting. The ever present brilliant light that lit the Emerald Dream reflected off the iridescent green scales adorning the other. After offering advice to the drake, Ysera went back to observing the tragic scene in Stranglethorn Vale, finding herself willing the rescue party onward at greater speeds in the foolish hope that they would arrive in the troll village in time to save the paladin but knowing it was futile. As she watched, the young night elf stood, paws and fur melting into hands and long hair. The mortal's spine was rigid with confusion, grief, and anger.
Never a good combination, Ysera noted with worry. The tiny mortal in the scene clenched her fists. A violet darkness seemed to shimmer into existence around her form, mirroring the same darkness that clouded the heart of the trinket that kept Ysera's consort trapped in his own madness. Ysera felt her own eyes widen in alarm as she watched Anaiya take on the corrupted power offered by the dragon's essence.
No, that wasn't meant to happen! The foolish girl was opening herself up to the influence of the twisted soul of her consort in her desperation. Ysera didn't think the paladin had made that much of an impression on the girl. The green Aspect would have wrung her hands in frustration were she in human form. She told herself she wouldn't interfere with this situation, wanting to see how far the mortals would go to protect their world. Not to mention, she thought bitterly, she couldn't just up and leave the Emerald Dream unprotected.
This alternate realm was the…blueprints, you might say, for the world of Azeroth and a great disaster unlike any that had befallen the world before would occur if something should happen to the Emerald Dream. Ysera, although often distracted and absent minded at the best of times, took her duties as the guardian of the Emerald Dream seriously. And while she loved her Prime Consort very much, she couldn't be selfish and if his redemption and freedom wasn't necessary for another dire situation rising on Kalimdor even now, she would have been forced to reluctantly leave him in the Blood God's clutches, to be ended by some aspiring group of heroes who saw nothing but yet another maddened dragon.
She unconsciously chewed on one long claw as she watched the images play out. Finally, with a snort of disgust and frustration, she spun about, disrupting the image with an expert tail flick.
"Taryssa! Attend me!" She called sharply, her voice causing nearby lounging greens to startle into full wakefulness, long sinuous necks twisting to regard their flight leader with concern. There was a stirring among a small flock of drakes by a stand of viridian trees. A dark green drake on the small side quickly maneuvered her way through the foliage and rocks that made up this portion of the Emerald Dream. She bowed her slender neck as she approached, eyes bright with eagerness to please the Aspect.
"Yes, Lady Ysera?" Taryssa spoke softly, with respect. Ysera, still deep in thought, didn't register the other's words right away. Taryssa, used to the absentminded behavior of the green aspect, waited patiently. She curled her tail around her feet like a cat, eyes watching attentively. Finally Ysera muttered something, her rainbow eyes staring off. She blinked and smiled at the younger dragon.
"Taryssa, good. I need you to enter the mortal realm and contact High Priestess Tyrande. Tell her that events are moving faster than we anticipated and I need her to gather the other Scepter fragments together. Tell her to be ready to depart for Moonglade soon. Also warn her that the Blood God is stirring, preparing to make his move. Still, his plans and movements are clouded. No doubt he is guarding himself from my sight." She hesitated, worrying at a fang with a long tongue. "…and also, keep an eye on the mortal, Anaiya Cloudchaser. The one who carries my Consort's corrupted soul. Do not interfere with the situation, but observe her actions closely and report everything you see to Tyrande. If we are to have a chance at success, Tyrande must be kept aware of the level of corruption Erannikus carries inside."
She nodded her great head, satisfied with those orders. The bangles on her ears swung, catching a sunbeam and reflecting green shimmers over her cheek. Taryssa lifted a scaled eyebrow curiously, but merely nodded obediently.
"As you wish, Lady Ysera. Shall I leave immediately?" She canted her head to the side. Ysera nodded, pleased at the willingness of her brood sister.
"Thank you Taryssa, and safe flight," she called in parting as Taryssa prepared to leave the Emerald Dream.