Lucretia Stormsinger walked through the forest, awed at the beauty of
it all. She glanced to her right and saw a bear wandering away. A look to
the left revealed a doe grazing at the ankle-deep grass. She looked at the
sky and saw a robin flying gracefully through the trees. She looked at the
ground and saw the minute insects scurrying about, carrying out their daily
business. Then, she looked at herself and realized that unlike these
creatures, she was a byproduct of her race, a mutant whose soul and life
were forfeit. Her scaly hide, forked tail, white face, all once part of
the Night Elf grace and beauty, but now a disgrace. She began having
second doubts about her "great" idea when the winds about her suddenly
picked up and flung her into the air, letting her hang.
"What orcish trickery is this?" she yelled to the surrounding forest.
A cloaked figure stepped out from behind the trees. "This is not orcish, we are Night Elves." With this, he pulled off his cloak revealing him to be a Druid of the Talon, quickly recognized by Lucretia, who had fought side by side with them in the War of the Ancients.
"What do you want with me? I mean you no harm!" Lucretia yelled.
The bear Lucretia had seen earlier walked over and turned into a Druid of the Claw. "Then why were you running from the orcs heading straight for our camp?" the druid asked.
"I need to speak to Tyrande. I have been hunted for months by the orcs and I need Tyrande to clear up my record."
"Redemption is impossible for your kind!" the Druid of the Talon yelled. "You betrayed us years ago! We lost many more people in that battle than we should have because of your groups betrayal."
"I am sorry, however, if I may redeem myself, I will tell you something. I have hunted the undead and have wiped out about six encampments with my group of myrmidons that would have otherwise caused you a great number of losses."
"So what? Our forces would have won in the end. Why do you even want to be redeemed? What would you gain if Tyrande were to accept you again?"
"I.I.I just want to belong somewhere. The only home I knew was with the Night Elves. I didn't even mean to betray you. If I could do that night over again I would change what I did!"
"Very touching. So, here's what we'll do. We will take you to our camp, and let you plead your case to Tyrande. However, we are going to carry you in this." He pulled out a bag, and just as the winds around Lucretia faltered, he put the bag under her and caught her in it. For a moment their eyes met, and then he closed the bag, and gave it to the Druid of the Claw. "Urvon, morph to a bear and carry her on your back. Everyone else, move out. We're going home."
* * *
Three dark creatures sat around a ball, watching the capture of Lucretia. "They are headed for Darkshore with the Chosen One. We need to intercept that band." The dark figure raised his claw and flicked it. Quickly, a small swarm of creatures flew out an open window.
"Yessss, Wozran, we must intercept them at all costs. However, our window of time is slim. They will reach the Darkshore in few cycles of the sun." This dark figure spread open his arms and a cloud of creatures flew out of them toward the window.
"A wise decision, but your minions will not reach them in time. Wozran, give me some mithril. Gruszom, give me some gold." The two creatures extended their arms to the final creature and gave him small bits of silver and gold powder. The third threw it out the window. But as he did, he blew on it, and the powder turned a foul green.
"Razmur, what are you doing?" Gruszom demanded.
"It is time for Sop to catch this band. It will engage the band long enough for your minions to get to there."
"Is all that necessary? Our forces can wipe them out without the help of Sop." Gruszom said.
"Yes, but they are too slow. No living or even dead beast can outrun the sop. Without it, we will have no hope of catching the Chosen One before she gets to the Darkshore," Razmur said.
"Very well, I can only hope the only thing it attacks will be the band. For the simple touch of Sop will make anything a dead creature." Gruszom looked out the window to see a harpy who had been flying by it began to fly away in fear as the green dust came out, but then fell the sea below, dead.
* * *
"What orcish trickery is this?" she yelled to the surrounding forest.
A cloaked figure stepped out from behind the trees. "This is not orcish, we are Night Elves." With this, he pulled off his cloak revealing him to be a Druid of the Talon, quickly recognized by Lucretia, who had fought side by side with them in the War of the Ancients.
"What do you want with me? I mean you no harm!" Lucretia yelled.
The bear Lucretia had seen earlier walked over and turned into a Druid of the Claw. "Then why were you running from the orcs heading straight for our camp?" the druid asked.
"I need to speak to Tyrande. I have been hunted for months by the orcs and I need Tyrande to clear up my record."
"Redemption is impossible for your kind!" the Druid of the Talon yelled. "You betrayed us years ago! We lost many more people in that battle than we should have because of your groups betrayal."
"I am sorry, however, if I may redeem myself, I will tell you something. I have hunted the undead and have wiped out about six encampments with my group of myrmidons that would have otherwise caused you a great number of losses."
"So what? Our forces would have won in the end. Why do you even want to be redeemed? What would you gain if Tyrande were to accept you again?"
"I.I.I just want to belong somewhere. The only home I knew was with the Night Elves. I didn't even mean to betray you. If I could do that night over again I would change what I did!"
"Very touching. So, here's what we'll do. We will take you to our camp, and let you plead your case to Tyrande. However, we are going to carry you in this." He pulled out a bag, and just as the winds around Lucretia faltered, he put the bag under her and caught her in it. For a moment their eyes met, and then he closed the bag, and gave it to the Druid of the Claw. "Urvon, morph to a bear and carry her on your back. Everyone else, move out. We're going home."
* * *
Three dark creatures sat around a ball, watching the capture of Lucretia. "They are headed for Darkshore with the Chosen One. We need to intercept that band." The dark figure raised his claw and flicked it. Quickly, a small swarm of creatures flew out an open window.
"Yessss, Wozran, we must intercept them at all costs. However, our window of time is slim. They will reach the Darkshore in few cycles of the sun." This dark figure spread open his arms and a cloud of creatures flew out of them toward the window.
"A wise decision, but your minions will not reach them in time. Wozran, give me some mithril. Gruszom, give me some gold." The two creatures extended their arms to the final creature and gave him small bits of silver and gold powder. The third threw it out the window. But as he did, he blew on it, and the powder turned a foul green.
"Razmur, what are you doing?" Gruszom demanded.
"It is time for Sop to catch this band. It will engage the band long enough for your minions to get to there."
"Is all that necessary? Our forces can wipe them out without the help of Sop." Gruszom said.
"Yes, but they are too slow. No living or even dead beast can outrun the sop. Without it, we will have no hope of catching the Chosen One before she gets to the Darkshore," Razmur said.
"Very well, I can only hope the only thing it attacks will be the band. For the simple touch of Sop will make anything a dead creature." Gruszom looked out the window to see a harpy who had been flying by it began to fly away in fear as the green dust came out, but then fell the sea below, dead.
* * *