Deep within the dark burrows of Moonglade lie the massive dens, layeth with druids who find themselves in deep sleep, communing with the Emerald Dream. While many druids simply become servants of the earthly avatars of druids long passed, very few distinguish themselves as great warriors of Cenarius, Elune, or other deities that seek out great ability.
Some, however, end up wayward; lost within themselves, finding nothing when they enter the Dream. While not totally futile, this is the worst fate for a druid, for they can still taste nature's power, but cannot truly attain it. There is one test, however, that all druids must endure; one that allows all to understand a druid's place in the world.
Loganaar, the most prominent trainer of these druids, stepped quietly amongst the Barrow Den, as he'd done for thousands of years, as though making the slightest sound could awaken one of them. He would peer deeply into their faces, by now able to see through their eyelids in order to ascertain their state of being. These were initiates; more advanced druids could dream with eyes open.
While Loganaar moved quietly, he heard loud stomping from behind him, belonging to only one other person who could be this deep into the Den. Hamuul Runetotem's giant hoofs shook the ground he stepped upon, echoing loudly in the enclosed den. Loganaar, now used to it, wasn't fazed.
"Have I ever told you that you always know how to make an entrance?" the old night elf spoke, dryly.
Hamuul grinned, "I like to give warning of my arrival. We tauren may be peaceful, but only thanks to our ability to move the Earth we tread. How are our students?"
Loganaar nodded lightly, "Good, good. Everybody seems as though they are communing easily enough."
"And Ascal?"
Breathing a deep sigh, Loganaar shook his head, giving his answer silently. Hamuul seemed much less upset by the development and simply continued his way deeper into the Barrow Den, Loganaar following at his side.
"His one thousandth slumber is fast approaching…" Loganaar muttered nervously, "He has so much potential; I'd hate to see-"
"That's irrelevant," Humuul snorted, "The Earthmother knows all. Sees all. If he has no use here, than so be it. You get too attached to your pupils, Loganaar. We have little to no power over them when it comes to their successes."
Loganaar nodded, "I'm just worried. The number of Arch Druids is declining. I'm just thinking of what exactly your Earthmother is thinking."
As though it was an afterthought, he went on after a moment, "And of course I get attached. If you watched your students for thousands of years, you would be too."
"We'll see," Hamuul grinned, knowingly.
The two made it to the deepest reaches of the Den, where the most experienced initiates would dream. In Ascal's case, "experience" meant that he'd only spent so much time in slumber. Hamuul approached the night elf, carefully examining him. His hair had grown scraggily, as had his facial hair, which made him look more like a lion than anything.
"He's trying," Hamuul admitted, "He isn't even getting his hair cut between slumbers."
Loganaar shook his head, "He just wakes up and immediately makes his way down the halls. I cant remember the last time he's seen the light of day. I can remember his first day here, though, strangely."
"There's nowhere lower," Hamuul noted aloud, as though ignorant of his friend's memories.
Suddenly, Ascal began to stir, as though waking up. Hamuul and Loganaar watched readily as his eyes shot open, leading him to raise his head to see the two faces that greeted him.
"How was it?" Loganaar spoke, softly.
Ascal lowered his head, almost in shame, as Hamuul burst out, "What did you see?"
The young night elf quickly stared up at the tauren, his attention having been fully captured, though he had no words. This, again, seemed to silently answer the question. Hamuul gave a massive sigh, his breath heating up the entire cove where they stood.
"Same as always," Ascal spoke, disappointed, "I know you two want something, but…"
He trailed off before Loganaar began, "Look, you have one last slumber. Your thousandth. There have been plenty of druids who've come through during this slumber. If Elune wills it…"
Hamuul took over, his voice more akin to a growl, "And we'll be very much expecting that to happen. If not, I'm sure Remulos will enjoy another young one to help keep up appearances around here."
Hamuul turned to walk off, leaving Loganaar behind. He sighed, patting Ascal on the shoulder in understanding, pulling out a pair of scissors and beginning to cut his hair.
"I know you're trying your hardest," Loganaar spoke up, quietly, "Perhaps looking your best will help."
Ascal sat silently by, as though only remaining awake to please his teacher. There was more than enough hair to go around, so Loganaar had no particular need to be careful, though he still kept an eye out.
"You know, I know the circumstances surrounding why you first came here, but you've been lost in slumber ever since," Loganaar muttered aloud, "I never learned why you remain here. Why you continue to do this."
Ascal sat there still, as though a defeated man, though with a flame still lingering within his eyes, "Because despite the results, I feel as though this is where I belong. Something needs me here. And whether or not I'm trimming trees, I will continue to return to the Emerald Dream. One of these days I'll find Elune, or Cenarius; maybe even Malfurion himself."
Loganaar grinned at the thought, "Just don't let it go to your head. Relax, and focus. One thousandth or not, this slumber is just like any other."
Ascal nodded as he fell backward, curling up in his bed of hay and feathers. Loganaar stood up with his hands full of hair, watching as his student began to fall back asleep. He frowned, turning and shaking his head, before walking off to join Hamuul up further.
Ashenvale resembled Teldrassil so much more than Darkshore had. As soon as they'd entered the area Kyra became a lot more animated in her face as she oo'ed and ah'd at the creatures, the trees, and the smell of a healthy forest. She was more at home now, and she excitedly walked on ahead.
Colin, on the other hand, had been a lot more quiet since they had left Lor'danel. True to her word, Kyra didn't speak a thing about his solitary aura, nor did she talk much about anything else. Their walk down the length of Darkshore was nearly devoid of any speech whatsoever, save for the occasional Darnassian exclamation when Kyra noticed something odd, beautiful, or straight-up foreign to her.
Colin was still in odd territory at this point. He had just arrived in Astranaar when Tyriel's handymen had accosted him, and since then, his travels had been more of a blur than anything until hed gotten to Teldrassil. He knew that, coming from Darkshore, Maestra's Outpost would be the first landmark the two would come across, and indeed, when he'd been here before, he spotted the single, iconic tower from the back of a nightsaber saddle.
"It's so much like home," Kyra opined aloud, "It's like home, but more wild, I guess."
"It certainly seems a lot more unkempt," Colin noted as he stared at a map he had held in front of him, "We could take the opportunity to spend the night once we get to the outpost; at least, if it's allowed."
Kyra nodded, "From what I know, that's usually the case."
Once again the two fell into silence, though with the freshness of Ashencale waning, Kyra noticed it a lot more this time. Before, she understood that Colin had been, more or less, sulking or, at the very least, secluding himself inside his own world. This seemed to be an unusual amount of time, however, and she grew a bit worried.
Soon enough, a massive tower came into sight, reaching as high as the tallest trees in the forest. Kyra was the first to marvel at the structure; indeed, it was the very first thing one would notice upon entering the ancient land. Night elves had been so known as reclusive that such a prominent sign would usually awake a patriotic flame within other night elves who saw it.
As they arrived, they were greeted warmly by the inhabitants. While it was indeed a military outpost, it also served as a sort of station for travelers it turned out. Colin noticed a few humans there, and quickly realized that it had been a month or so since he had even seen a fellow man. Amidst the greetings being passed around, everybody fell silent as a priestess approached, clad all in white, obviously evoking a greatly respected aura.
"Moon Priestess Maestra," one of the Sentinals acknowledged as she bowed before the near angelic being.
Kyra did the same, though Colin unknowingly remained standing, causing a sort of chuckle from the priestess, "Please, do as this human does, Shadowmoon. Travelers have no need for prostration in this grimy place."
Immediately standing up, Kyra stared, shocked, at Maestra, who seemed to catch on quickly, "Elune was sure to fortell your arrival, of course. You both seem to frequent a lot of what she has to say lately."
Colin grimaced, though the priestess didn't call any attention to it as she went on, "In any case, we're happy to have you both here for as long as you two require. I'm sure Broadleaf will assist in getting you two situated here."
Maestra smiled as a tall elf walked over, bowing, and then she bowed as well before making her way back toward the tower, the grounds becoming a lot more talkative. Orendil showed the two their beds for the night before leaving the two alone.
"Please, enjoy your stay," he spoke graciously as he left.
Colin examined the small tent that surrounded the two and quietly began unpacking his bag, making sure to catalogue whatever procurement he would receive while here. In the meantime, Kyra simply stared at him, watching what he was doing. Given how close they were in this tent, she was surprised he didn't notice.
Colin pulled out his journal, the first page being the one that showed what he had given Kyra just a few days ago. He stared at the page, which Kyra even noticed as oddly lengthy, before burying the whole book in his bag. Suddenly, he turned and walked over toward the exit.
"I'll go see if I cant find some food, or something useful," he muttered quietly before leaving.
Kyra watched him leave before studying the bag he had shoved his journal into. It only occurred to her to sneak a peek only once, and afterward, she mentally flogged herself for even thinking of something so shady. She decided it was about as good of time as any to get to sleep, so she removed her armor, laying in her bed, staring up toward the top of the tent.
Colin walked around the small encampment, weighing the cost of various supplies. He took stock meticulously, though only because he had been traveling for quite a long time. He figured out that earning money is rather difficult while traveling, so conservation is essential. To that end, he carefully picked and chose exact needs for himself and Kyra.
Afterwards, he made his way back to his tent, careful not to wake Kyra up. He slowly arranged his belongings, periodically looking over his shoulder to check on Kyra's status. The final time he did this, though, his stare lingered. She looked incredibly beautiful at that moment, and Colin had an incredible task once he finally decided to look away.
He left the tent again, staring up at the twilit sky. The forest seemed to even give lift to the very air here, and the different spots of energy that flew through the wind swirled around as though playing. He was commented here, even despite the various emotions that swirled around his heart.
Suddenly, a loud *CLAP* burst through the sky, immediately causing Colin to leap up in surprise. It sounded more like cannon fire, actually; a sound that had scalded itself in his mind. He knew it had to have been real, as every Sentinel in the place had immediately begun to rush around every which way. Colin turned, studying the hills around the Post, finally noticing a cannon being hoisted up onto the top of a nearby embankment. He panicked, but as soon as he had time to think of what to do, another crash of gunpowder rang through the air, and the top of Maestra's tower exploded in a hellish glory.
Colin stared up at it, shocked, before a great jolt woke him up and shook his body at the same time. Orenthil had tackled him to the ground in order to obscure him from any flying projectile. He looked up and over the elf's arm, just able to make out a swarm of orcs rushing toward him.
With the speed of a river's rapids, a large collection of night elves appeared, meeting the orcs and engaging them; their metal filling their air with clangs. Recognizing that the Horde cannons wouldn't fire toward their own forces, Orenthil quickly arose and pulled Colin to his feet.
"They're back," he spoke, calmly, which now seemed more odd than ever to Colin, "Come on; we need to get you and the other travelers to safety."
Colin obliged, though as they began to rush off, a giant wolf leapt at them from the side, knocking the two over dramatically. Colin had just seen the orc atop of it as it had happened, just now getting a decent look as he pushed himself up off the ground. The orc grimaced at the two, turning to marvel at the damage done to the massive tower, probably recognizing the two as little threat.
Orenthil stood up and whipped his hand around, readying a burst of magic, but the orc was quick to rein his wolf in, forcing the beast to lunge toward the elf. Orenthil was quick to dodge the strike, but as the wolf swooped around, Kyra flew from, seemingly, nowhere, knocking the orc from atop his mount, forcing the wolf to go into a rampage, now without instruction.
Kyra grappled with the orc, who desperately attempted to regain his advantage. Colin quickly ran toward the two as the orc finally got a good punch in at Kyra's face, knocking her down, greatly fazed. The orc whipped out a cutlass, waving it around as he took a single step toward his fallen prey. Immediately, Colin flew into him, careful to grasp the orc's arm as his body flew into him. Furiously thrashing about, the orc began pummeling Colin with his free hand, attempting to get his sword free, but his adversary refused to let go.
Suddenly, a whisk of air flew deadly close to Colin's ear, and the orc ceased to struggle. During the fight, Colin had shut his eyes, and even now kept them shut, knowing what had just happened. Kyra quickly returned, prying Colin from the orc's arm, and picking him up. He opened his eyes only then, noticing Orenthil taking a large smack to his head as he tried to calm the feral wolf. Kyra reclaimed her the dagger she had discharged so efficiently, about to help the druid with the wolf, albeit with more forceful means.
Finally, a burst of calm light descended upon the whole of the Post and Colin spun around to witness Maestra standing there, arm outstretched up in the air, radiating with a golden aura. He wasn't sure what was happening, but quickly enough, Colin recognized the bruises he had received began to lose their tenderness and, after a quick look around, some if the fallen night elves began to return to their feet.
Colin couldn't tell just how many people had been on either side, but all he cared about was the giant wolf that was still thrashing about, dangerously close, now, to the priestess behind him. As though lured by the light, the wolf pinpointed Maestra as his target, and it snarled furiously, pouncing toward her. Without thinking, Colin grasped the orc's cutlass and whipped it in front of him just as the wolf tore through the air, feeling the edge of the sword cutting through the beast's face.
The wolf growled severely, now at Colin, as a massive collection of nightsabers jumped off from an embankment adjacent to the Post, the night elves atop of them wielding swords and bows. The first of the squadron leapt from her mount while it, too, was in flight, and she gracefully landed atop the beast, straddling its neck and grasping a tuft of its hair to hold on as it began to frantically thrust its body in various directions.
The elf began to recite some words in Darnassian, which Colin could only vague hear through the ferocious movements, but Orenthil began to do the same, and Colin only concluded that it had been the same sort of incantation. The man completed his words and in that instant, the night elf drew her sword across the beast's neck, covering the wound with her hand and grappling its head and burying it against her chest as the feral creature began to lose strength, slowly falling down to its knees before collapsing, the elf stepping off at the last second, still holding her hand to its neck.
Though there were still explosions and metallic bursts in the air, Colin couldn't hear it. The scene before him seemed strangely peaceful, at least given the frenzied atmosphere from just minutes earlier. Orenthil approached the woman and placed his hand atop the wolf's head, rubbing it gently.
"Cenarius will be sure to treat him well," he muttered, as though speaking to everybody and everything around him.
With that, the woman removed her hand from its neck, pulling it soft along the wolf's fur, as though returning its blood, gracefully. She peered over toward the combat that was continuing a ways away and she spoke up, rather sadly.
"Take care of the poor creature," she said to Orenthil, "I'll make sure there aren't any more of them."
Orenthil nodded as she ran off toward the action. Colin quickly noticed that he had lost Kyra during the fray, assuming she had run off to join the battle. He gingerly approached the dead animal, reaching out to rest his hand on its gigantic head. Orenthil looked up from what he was doing toward Colin, who seemed to be a some sort of shock, though not severely.
"Do not be saddened," Orenthil spoke heavily, perhaps even reverently, "This creature deserved a better fate than what it had endured in life. I know, in some deep recess of its soul, it prefers this. Cenarius will ensure this beast has a better life among the spirits."
Colin didn't move, although he'd heard the man. He felt saddened by line that had been etched into the wolf's face by his weapon, but perhaps this druid had something to his words.