The crossing
The wind was fierce. It ripped at the wings of the mighty stormcrow that attempted to sail with it. Feathers coiled and rustled as the druid sped forth across the forest. The earth itself was torn open, fiery earth and liquid stone leaking from a gigantic gash in the landscape. Even the air itself was filled with fear, as all manner of birds screeched in protest of the river of lava that erupted into flames and demolished their homes. Everything had seemed much calmer under the great tree where Vingor's lodge was built eons ago. His home had withstood the calamity exceptionally well, by sheer luck. There was a stark degree of destruction further inland than he had expected. He knew that he had been very fortunate, compared to the animals whose homes were turned into ash or ripped away from them. As a creature of the sky the druid's eyesight improved immensely and his gaze took in the impact of the disaster. It was an eerie sight to behold as the birds fled to the skies and others ran for cover in holes or caves. The sounds of anguish were easily detected despite the difference between humanoids and animals and for a druid it was all the more clear to him what fear they felt in their tiny hearts.
The giant bird fell starkly in order to avoid the invisible wall of wind that pushed against him. It was unusual for such gales to occur inland and Vingor suspected that the massive vortex on the horizon had something to do with it. The druid sped between branches at a brazen speed that scared squirrels and birds amongst the dense cluster of trees stretching out on all sides. Spots of scorched ground, molten rock and fiery trees haunted his sight. The forest disappeared and the beat of majestic wings brought Vingor Stormcrow sailing above Astranaar and straight for the coast. The lush green went away and was replaced by gray sand. A massive fortress was under construction and what seemed like a makeshift harbor where orc upon orc rallied on the beach. The great bird did not stop, but flew in a straight line for Teldrassil. The white froth of the sea brewed against the rearranged shoreline below.
At last the rain began to whip down upon wind-blown feathers. No less than an onslaught, as rough bullets of water fell upon him from the gray skies above. Thunder shattered his hearing and dazed him for but a moment. A storm brew all around him, on each side, ahead and behind. Anxiety grew within and his talons clenched in the same manner a fist would. Lightning bolts ripped the horizon asunder, he jolted sideways and the wind pulled him mercilessly off course. He fell quickly and tumbled onto his back. The druid twirled about desperately and he started to drop down from the sky. On instinct the bird's wings pressed tightly against the sides and he darted towards the earth from high above, much like a rock falling through the air at a fearsome speed. With no other option left he fell towards the water before spreading his mighty wings to take advantage of the momentum he had. The druid's direction curved during the fall until he floated just above the foaming sea beneath him. Without warning the bird was dragged into the cold water as a great wave rose above the rest and swallowed him whole.
Dark, deep and all-consuming. So was the depths beneath the waves. There was little, if any, light at all and fear began to sink into the mind as he descended into the watery depths. Vingor struggled, he did not want to die, and pushed against the heavy water with his arms while kicking firmly to climb for the surface. The foamy rage of the waves crashed against his head the moment he broke the surface to take a deep breath. The druid was dragged back beneath the surface by the weight of water and the leather he wore. Debris carried by the waves suddenly smashed against his side and knocked the air out of his body. Water rushed into his nostrils, as he heaved for his breath and fell beneath the surface, when another wave fell upon him. He arched and writhed. Bubbles bursting from his mouth as the druid screamed with a mouth full of water. The darkness grew thick around him as Vingor fell deeper and deeper into the sea. For but a moment he remembered scolding Atelniar for his fear of water. Many years ago, when he taught away the mastery of an aquatic form to his pupil, Vingor had thought Atelniar suffered a lack of determination but he was proven wrong. Not now, I still need to know.
The druid kicked against the water with all his strength. The elven body twisted and morphed itself into a great sea-lion before it sped upwards in a desperate chase to escape a moist grave. He felt the water rush past him while he chased for a dark blur in the water that resembled rocks. Vingor broke the surface and gasped for his breath. The druid could no longer hold the form. Exhausted and cold to the bones, his muscles clenched painfully in a desperate effort to keep the body warm. Dull spasms ran through his arms and legs. The dark rock was visible some thirty yards away. A lone island, merely above sea level, coated in seaweed. He swam for it with a final effort. Waves tore at him, but he still made it. Cold elven fingers clawed at the rough rock and bled as he crawled to safety. Vingor collapsed promptly as the strength within his body faltered for a moment. His head fell, but a soft layer of sea-growth took the brunt of the impact away. The rain prickled roughly on his neck as he lost consciousness.
A flicker of light flashed before him and the sky tore open, sunlight struck the old elf's face. He felt warm but had no idea how long he had been out of it. The storm that had washed upon him was only a memory, but his garment was farm from dry. Clingy and uncomfortable. Vingor Stormcrow opened his eyes fully and watched the rays of sunlight that sparkled against the clear sea around him. Be it Cenarius, Elune or luck. Thank you.
Vingor got to his feet, but almost fell back down at once. The rest of the journey would take a lot in his state. A weak shiver ran down his spine as he saw the contours of elven ears in the corner of his left eye. His throat felt dry and his stomach threatened to puke at the sight. He cursed and tore at the slimy sea-weed which almost covered the corpse. His cold fingers ripped the stubborn weed asunder and the face of a dead female met his eyes. It seemed to be a young Sentinel. Her lavender skin turned pale, with a shallow green hue that resembled the seaweed around her. A streak of pity rammed his heart asunder at the sight of the young elf who still held some manner of eerie beauty.
She was long dead, buried by sea-weed on a lone rock. Maybe a day or more had passed since her heart stopped. The fresh tingle of healing magic would be of no use to her at all. The druid tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes with his shaking fingers. He offered no lengthy prayer for her, but he did pay his respect to the sentinel. Thus was the deathbed of Lyraniel Moonleaf. Vingor knew not of her story, nor her name, but somewhere another would mourn her death. The druid watched her silently where she rested on a bed of seaweed. It pained him to leave her unattended, but he was too weak to carry her to shore. Vingor stepped away and morphed into a stormcrow once more. A form he had mastered for many years. His wings caught the updraft and soared higher and higher, until the rock was gone. He left behind the coast of what had been Auberdine and traversed the sea.
The wind blew steady when Vingor approached Teldrassil. The great tree of the elves was a sight to behold, even in the great calamity that had befallen the world. It stood in solitude at the corner of Kalimdor's known reaches, as a beacon of hope for all elves.
The times had changed the last few years. Not so long ago it would be a much more round-about journey if one sought to visit the Eastern Kingdoms where humans dominated much of the land. It seemed as if the disaster that had befallen the elves had made them more reliant on the bond they now shared with mortal races. The reclusive nature of the elves, while still apparent, was not as dominant as it used to be. Their ways had changed greatly by the influence of outside forces and the leadership of High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Her utmost redeeming quality was to reach out for those in aid.
Vingor landed in a rustle of feathers and dust at the very bowels of Teldrassil itself. He almost fell to his knees from the force of the landing. The eyes of others were drawn to his presence. Candles were modestly scattered in places, a sign of mourning for the dead and the song of the High Priestess haunted his ears distantly. Tyrande's voice echoed through the glimmering portal nearby. Without a word the druid dusted off his clothing and walked down the path, his gaze locked onto the harbor below. The breeze from the sea pushed at his ears, whistling as he took his staff in his best hand and clenched it firmly to ignore the chill that continued to haunt his body. He wanted to know if his pupil was still alive or dead. First, however, came duty. He had to worn the Sentinels of what he had seen at the Zoram Strand. To his frustration, however, there were no sentinels to be seen.
The elf stood in silence with a stern face and watched the waves curl in a set rhythm, as far as the eyes could see. They washed up against the ravaged harbor. Before long a ship could be seen. He observed as the elven boat laid in to the harbor and sturdy ropes were used to bind the ship in place before the passengers got to their feet and left the deck. All were wounded elves, struggling to walk or supported by the Sentinels who laid their weapons aside. Despite their fierce nature, they were still females and in their hearts beat the steady drum of a mother, daughter or a sister's affection. He reached out for one of them, a tired female who looked at him uncertainly while carrying a fellow sentinel on her back.
"I come with a message, war has come to our doorstep, orcs marched upon Zoram Strand and they will aim for Astranaar first." he claimed. She seemed confused and in shock. Fear was evident in her gaze. She had narrowly escaped death with her comrades at what had been the Feathermoon Stronghold. Vingor tightened the grip on her shoulder. "Do you understand?" he asked her. It took a moment for her to nod before he released his grip and allowed her to carry on up the hill, towards the portal which led up to the crown of Teldrassil itself. There stood the city of the night elves, Darnassus, beneath a roof of branches and leaves.
The skies shifted and waves grew bolder against the roots of Teldrassil before the boat from Stormwind finally arrived. There were few who traveled back and forth between the two nations. The human capitol had been under assault by the aspect of Death, according to the rumors. The ship's captain eyed him warily. Master Stormcrow sensed the unease and met the gaze, returning a courteous nod as a greeting, before he silently made his way into the ship's quarters.
He seated himself silently against the wall, leaning his heavy head onto the rough wood while closing his eyelids peacefully. The elvish glow still emanating weakly from beneath his eyelids while he tried to rest. You should always rest when you can, I guess, or so he thought. The real aim was to silence the questions he wanted answers to. Impatience was a sin. A state of meditation came over him. Uncomfortable as it was to rest his head against the wall it did dull the pressure of thoughts and feelings. The footsteps echoed off the ceiling as the crew prepared to leave the dock and sail towards Stormwind before nightfall. The flight had left him drained of energy. The tips of his old fingers prickled annoyingly. Cold to the touch and heavy, as if he couldn't control them properly. It took no more than a sigh from his lips before the elder druid was fast asleep. The ship left the harbor in the final hours of the night, shrouding its departure in a dull darkness when the craft no longer remained within reach of the illuminated stronghold of the night elves, which became a beacon on the horizon for the ship's captain. The waves rocked the ship steadily while the druid found some rest. I really do hate the sea.