The Beast and the Batrider

[Vaelitha Skysong]

Karael looked at the Altar dedicated to Elune at the highest point on Frostblade Peak. She licked her lips nervously and withdrew a few steps, hoping she wouldn't be asked to come closer.
She could feel the presence of the Goddess there and it frightened her. She was sure that Elune knew the doubts in her heart, what she had done. She rubbed her hand down her hip, an unwitting gesture that she was doing with out realising more and more.
It was the blood, she couldn't get rid of it. It had poured from the wolf's ruined throat and soaked her glove, covered her hand. It burned. Burned and clung, reminding her in every moment what she had done with an insistant itch.
Aldrannath had said something to her, and as she looked at him she tried to gather her thoughts to reply. Realising he wanted her to come closer to the Altar, she reluctantly complied. If she resisted, they would suspect something. They might ask. The First Elder was talking about the Old Gods, about the influence they might exert on those that are not mentally prepared for what is to come, what is happening now. The thought did not bother her. She had killed the last of the demons she had been sent to dispatch by the Ancients in Felwood not all that long ago, and hadn't it tried to twist her mind and make her think that... With a sharp shake of her head, Karael muttered under her breath, trying to put the thought out of her head. Of course this drew Aldrannath's attention to her, and he nodded to the Altar.
'Put your hand upon it, Sister.' The First Elder rumbled, his eyes fixed on her and intent as he watched her turmoil.
'No. I mean... why? Why do I need to?', replied Karael tremulously. She lifted her chin in an unusual display of defiance, but it soon melted under Aldrannath's implacable gaze.
She held out her hand and placed it on the Altar and the relief, the sweet peace and relief that flooded her drew an involuntary sigh from her lips. Tears pricked her eyes and she hung her head to look at the Altar and murmur a prayer of thanks for the respite from the pain that had become so fixed in her, she hadn't noticed how tight she had become wound.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. The others were moving out it seemed, and the First Elder was looking down at her with infinite compassion and understanding. Minutes had passed, perhaps more in what had seemed fleeting seconds since she touched the Altar. She was loathe to remove her hand from what had been a blessing to her, a balm to lave her wounded soul. She knew all the doubts in her actions- the slaying of her closest companion, the killing of the demons, especially the last, and the growing pain and suspicion in her own heart.. they were all of her own making. Her innner turmoil boiling and bursting beneath the surface to fester and rot and taint.
With a small prayer to Elune, she withdrew her hand and prayed that the strength she had drawn here would remain and feed her till she would be able to resolve this war within her. She followed the others as they left, barely hearing their words, lost in her own thoughts.

((Just the start for you all to add something too. Have fun! )

[Kaylaneh]

(( Guess its my turn I'll describe the bit till we wend to the Temple with the Orcale. Also some thoughts of Celegil how she copes with her demotion because this is the first time I'm able to let her thoughts out. It might be a bit shaky, warning . Also, This won't be my last entry into the story. When we get to the Batrider bit, I'll leave a bit of story too.))

Celegil looked wearily onto the road leading to the Grizzly Hills. The sight of the altar on Frostblade Peak made her hopeful for she thought that even this far from Kalimdor, Elune is always watching and protecting her children.

As she looked over her shoulder, the rest of group was following. Muttering in her head, she still thought of her demotion to Ranger. Unfair, that was her thought. Just because she voiced her opinion, perhaps a controversial one, she was put down. She looked over to Aldrannath. Celegil had a deep respect for him. But even her unshaken respect for the Elder had taken a beating. He was too soft on the foreigners. "They only come to take advantage of us, like sapping all our Sentinels to Northrend instead of Ashenvale where they are needed." Celegil sighed, thinking: "He will see my reason when our forests are burning."

Finally, before turning her head back, she glanced to Karael. She didn't had any good word for her: "That bitch that is licking the Elder's ass. She'll have her pay one day." Celegil felt a wave of anger rising from her fist but she quickly looked away, back to the path ahead.

After a few hours, they reached the Westfall Brigade Encampment. "More bloody Humans. Oh well, as long as we don't stay here for too long."

[Caranir Elmheart]

Caliyen grunted a farewell to the soldiers around the fire and hurried after the others as they left the encampment. The other kaldorei had found few words for her during their rest, evidently they'd shared something important up on the mountain that she'd missed in her lateness, something clear from Celegil's cutting remarks and Karael's quiet disdain. At least humans weren't bad company, she mused as they moved downhill and away from the encampment, at least Caliyen never found them so.

The party soon arrived at the edge of troll ruins, Celegil leading them around the back of a tall building that looked like a temple. Caliyen wasn't sure why they were here, but the Elder's interest seemed peaked so she followed quietly as they slipped into the unguarded temple.

The air inside was still, damp and musty, the walls were poorly illuminated but seemed to house the mummified remains of many, many trolls. The elders advanced slowly, pausing seemingly at random to sniff the air and shiver in the coldness of the tomb. Pausing wasn't in Caliyen's nature, if something was going to jump out of the walls at them then she'd rather it happened sooner and quickly. Besides, she was feeling indestructible lately after their recent battles.

Eventually, they came to a smaller chamber, the centre lit by a pyre while braziers dotted the alcoves around the walls. Several of the others paused again in the entrance, shivering once more, but Caliyen pressed eagerly inside, drawn by the bloodstains streaking the floor.

A wracking cough drew her attention to a figure, half a figure perhaps, lying in the shadow of a brazier on the far side of the room. The withered and ancient looking troll had no legs and sat slumped against the wall, leering at the elves with a wretched laugh before calling for a drink of water. Almost predictably, Amplisa edged forward with sword in hand but was blocked by the Draenei, Armanor.

After slurping from the shaman's canteen, the troll Oracle handed it back with an appreciative noise, followed by a wicked grin as Armanor questioned him.
"They doan' know what ya are. But neetha do you! Ya gonna see them all dead an' gone. Ya gonna see tha worl' remade! Remade, I tells ya!"

Caliyen frowned at the troll's prediction and pushed forward, as did all of the kaldorei except Aldrannath as the Oracle spotted Salabadon and let loose a mad cackle.
"Ya gonna come too late! Too late!"

He turned to Celegil next and smiled almost kindly as she made to question him, eyes full of suspicion.
"Doan' trouble yaself, hontress, ya gonna get it back, all what ya lost. But ya like the old one. Ya glory days done passed behind ya."

Next his beady eyes found Caliyen and his face lit up in a disturbing display of glee, proclaiming loudly:
"Hail to ya, Caliyen Starbreeze! They keep ya now like a dancin' pet, but someday ya gonna be greater than all of them. Hail to ya, Caliyen Starbreeze! Ya gonna rise above all tha Kaldorei. Someday they gonna be callin' ya General."

She stood still for a few moments as the words sank in, fighting back the misplaced pride rising inside her, before the troll snapped angrily to interrupt something from Amplisa.
"Doan' speak ta me. Ya's not worth me spit."
The venom disappeared from the creature's voice as he went on:
"I know what ya be seekin' here and ya' too late, young Moora'Jin has made his pact with the darkness and be long gone for Gundrak now."

They traded blank looks before Aldrannath rumbled and made things clear.
"The batrider. We go to Gundrak then."

Caliyen was last out of the chamber as they went to leave, the only one to catch the troll's final muttered words.
"Gonna be Kaldorei blood on ya' hands..."

[Aldrannath]

The calm came back to him as he wandered the half-drowned ruins of the fortress. Here, closing his eyes, he could almost imagine himself in the far north of old Kalimdor, a young warrior ready to take the oath and join the Guardians at last. He could almost feel the land before it was broken. He could almost remember the North without the Darkness.

Elsewhere in Northrend, he could feel Its touch. Feather-light, but constantly present, like a nagging ache, it sapped the vigour from his limbs and gently, inexorably unfastened his mind. It knew him, It had touched him and hollowed him out like a slowly rotting oak; Its wrath might yet unmake and unhinge him in an instant. But perhaps this place, and its tranquility, would buy him enough time. Time to atone, in some small part, for the one vast folly of his master, that had helped to wake It from Its long sleep.

The Draenei understood little enough of that, but no less, perhaps, than the young Kaldorei, who had acknowledged his warnings with scarcely a shrug. Aldrannath was far more discomfited by the alien's presence than he allowed the others to see, but he hoped they might benefit from it. All of them were too sure of themselves, too sure of their race, of their heritage and of their clean, sharp judgements in all things. The Draenei, far older, far more learned than they, had swallowed his own judgements and come to seek another truth. His presence might yet teach the young ones a valuable lesson.

Now Armanor, the alien, the humble, the forsaker, had asked him - him! - to show the way back from the brink of madness. A fitting place for such a question - and in that place, there was only one story to tell.

'In ancient time, before mighty Cenarius teach his blessed craft to first Druid, Malfurion, other Kaldorei have also learn at his feet. Few, rare, most humble Kaldorei of old given teachings and blessings from him. Legend say of one ranger, she name Elshaya, long she travel alone in vast forest, long she follow Way of Malorne. Cenarius, legend say, Cenarius come to her, and tell her: "Elshaya, blessed from Elune are you. She is decide for show herself to you." He bring her to this mountain, to Frostblade Peak, even to summit. There he leave her, to await coming of Elune.

'Long she wait, long years, say legend, in harsh wind and bitter cold. Mighty storm is come out of North, storm of terrible, and lightning smite peak, and wind bite her face and fling rocks for smash her to pieces. Still she wait. Elune is not in storm.

'Long time yet she wait. Then, is shake the earth, and mountain shudder, and fire come up from deep places of earth to blacken her flesh, and sea is swallow up by earth, and return in mighty flood to smash against side of mountain, and wash away even trees of forest. Still she wait. Elune is not in earthquake.

'Long time yet she wait, until at last fall the silence. Earth, wind, wave and forest fall still. Then, from out of stillness, close at hand, she is hear one small and silent voice. When she hear voice, she cover face with hands, for is not worthy to see blessed Light of Elune.'

[Kaylaneh]

A distrusting silence could be felt, high up in the sky of Northrend. Almost like something was holding its breath. The sun was about to fade on the eastern horizon and would make way for the moon in a matter of minutes. Although Celegil knew Northrend could be a harsh place, the cold was relatively mild high up in the sky as she flew gently on her Hippogryph.

Although the silence was peaceful, it also made Celegil recall her thoughts. More specifically, to the Oracle's words.

"Doan' trouble yaself, hontress, ya gonna get it back, all what ya lost. But ya like the old one. Ya glory days done passed behind ya."

"What in Elune's name did he mean?" Celegil wondered. "What am I going to get back? I didn't lose much in my life, apart from my father. But he isn't going to come back." Celegil shook her head in confusion as the sky darkened and thunder broke the silence. "Zul'Drak" Celegil murmured. "A place of such vileness only equalled by Icecrown and Felwood".

As Celegil was nearing the city of Gundrak, her Hippogryph started to make choking sounds, sickening. Celegil widened her eyes; "What is wrong my Munisha? Why are you choking?" Then she noticed a small dart, stuck inside her faithful Hippogryph's lower chest. "By the-"

Celegil could not finish her sentence as she was unexpectedly hit by a dart herself from high up in the sky. She quickly glanced up into the sky and noticed a batrider above her with an unhealthy looking Troll on top of it, way too far up for Celegil to survive in the air without oxygen. As she started to make a manoeuvre down to the ground with Munisha, she could feel her thoughts drifting all over the place. First, the city of Gundrak turned into Teldrassil, then, into a burning Nordrassil.

"My..head.." Celegil mumbled as she neared the ground. Just as she was about to make an approach she lost her balance and fell, fell long with a hard landing that knocked her out cold. All became dark.

No notion of time could describe how long she was out cold, for Celegil it felt like an eternity.

A cold feeling on the top of her head began to emerge. Cold, then less cold, then cold again.

Celegil slowly opened her eyes and noticed she was no longer in the wide outdoors. She could recognize the interior which was similar to that of Drak'Tharon Keep. As she tried to move her right leg, a crushing emerged from her ankle straight through her spine and up to her head. "Broken.." she mumbled.

Her words woke up other figures in the room. Celegil could faintly feel how they stroked her right upper leg as they brought in a strange device above her head. Then the figures left the room once more.

Then the horror began, dripping droplets of water tormented her forehead for hours and hours on end. One could laugh how such a simple technique could drive one mad, but it did so to Celegil.

By the time the figures came back, she was weeping heavily in tears, completely maddened by the torment. Then, the drips stopped. A relieve? A saviour came, she wondered? No.

A large device was lowered in a rude fashion on top of her face, almost something organic with large stinging spikes like a hedgehog. She could feel the strength of her literally being sucked away through the needles before her mind was filled with dark thoughts and rash emotions. She cried them out:

"Kill the weak Elder!"
"Karael, you betraying whore! I'll make you cry for my mercy!"
"Shanna! You asslicker!"
"Weak old Salabadon...."
"...Shameful son of bad blood must purged.."
"..nothing.."

Then she passed out, the horrors tormenting her dreams further.

(( It was meant to be a bit dramatic. ))