11-07-2010, 04:52 AM
Chapter One
The Legend of Shalla'drassil
The Legend of Shalla'drassil
[justify]Jidaeo was, to be certain, a most noble man. Sir Novalight, raised in undeath, bound to the will of the Lich King, and later freed, was a Talah'dore. In Thalassian, this simply meant “Child of deathâ€Â. In Darnassian, too. The cult behind those strange callings, however, lies much beyond the subject of this tale. For two hundred and fifty years now, he wandered the roads and later, the skies of the world aboard his Zeppelin. He was a shrewd businessman, and a most courageous elf. But also, he has been terribly broken in his life. Slain by a lich, ambushed by a betraying friend. Sir Novalight did not have the brightest of destinies. And yet he kept searching, in the shadows, freed after years of torture. The Light of Nova was his pride. His Guild, and most of all, his ways to keep to his former destiny. Yet, as adventurous as he seemed, little was he aware of what life – or rather, Scourge-tainted unlife, though he was by no means evil – would await him.
He was a Talah'dorei.
Maureen Sunrayne used to be a preppy high elf, a haughty and proud tavern-dweller with a huge ego and ambitions. Her past is genuinely shrouded in mystery. Let it just be said that she was almost fifty years younger than Jidaeo, that her parents were emissaries for the Kingdom of Stratholme, that she also grew in nobility and wasting – and that she suffered the same fate as our unfortunate Lord. Slain and resurrected, enslaved by the Lich King, and re birthed after his fall as a freelance warrior. “Rebirthedâ€Â, of course, is not literary. Maureen had indeed well accepted her fate as a Talah'dore, and shunned both the High Elven (and Blood Elven, though none could truly tell she had been) race she was supposed to be representable, and the mana-licking Sin'dorei. Not much difference in both races, at least at this level. In fact, she is the one who invented the term. Her goals were to create a haven for persecuted Death Knights, mainly of her own race, for ulterior rather dubious motives. Over time, she had come to believe such people were gifted, and no longer High Elves, or Blood Elves for some. No, they were death children – her children, her siblings. She was the one behind those ideas. She met Jidaeo in Booty Bay, and has been enthralled in him. For he was a like-minded Talah'dore. A most charming nobleman. And most of all... she would need him to satiate her twisted feelings and needs for greed.
She, too, was a Talah'dorei.
Maureen entered the Farstrider's Inn on a rainy day. It doesn't rain very often over Silvermoon, but when it does, it looks like the magic of the lands pulsates through every lamppost, every flowerpot, every little decoration the wondrous city has to offer. She wetted herself, passing her hand against her frosted skin as to remove the water. No, it was not freezing ice, contrary to popular belief. She advanced in the center of the tavern and looked about. It was just as richly embellished as the city proper, with purple carpets, gold-tripped silken weaving curtains, and just neatly chiseled arks that dominated the rooms and held the ceilings together. She walked behind an alley of such arches, and discovered by the marble counter, four Elves, sipping different drinks. She grinned very softly and curled up a stray braid. Jidaeo was sitting at the end of said counter, along on a blue cushion.
“Greetings, honey.â€Â
Jidaeo turned up, and swiftly enough, nodded. Maureen grinned even more. Both elves stood and joined upstairs – much to the surprise of an undercover agent of the Light of Nova, sitting in a corner, alone and left out of all doubt. They entered a private alcove, and closed the curtains shut. Both leant towards each other, and Jidaeo held her a parchment. Their lips were so close. She was gazing in his blueish, glowing eyes. No doubt, she was in love – the crazy, manic kind, as much as a tortured, wretched warrior can. The parchment was about a mission. Maureen had enrolled Jidaeo in her idea of a Haven, but he, too, needed her for his own purposes. Or their shared one, rather, for Jidaeo spread quite a bunch of information to like-minded Sin'dorei, who would be willing to become, from their status as Death Knights, genuine Talah'dorei. The girl chuckled as she read the parchment.
“The Skull of the Kal'dorei is known as nothing else than Shalla'drassil. Forged in a black matter, darker than ebony and sturdier than pure diamond, and shaped in the head of a fallen Night Elf. Shortly after the Sundering, it was lost in the sands of times.â€Â
Maureen kept on reading. A good half of the parchment described the various locations it was hinted, over the course of the years, to be. In red ink, or something looking like ink anyways, a few locations had been circled over. “Azscara Crater, about 250 years ago.†“The Goblins of Winterspring pointed out in their excavations the presence of a strange, ebony statue buried in sandâ€Â, or “Eldre'Thalas ravels since millenia with special items of value to Kaldorei. It was there a caravan, about ten years back, placed an artifact of high value and unholy pride.†Nonetheless, there was one mention, the last on the list, that caught her attention. Out of interest, she thought the text aloud.
“It seems it has birthed long ago, when Kalimdor was but a single mainland, in a forlorn grove, now located in the Province of Duskwood. Legend has it, a powerful Highborne mage had tried to forge it with dark magics, off a lifelong foe.†Maureen grinned. Those were legends, dating from well before the Kaldorei were known as such. She had planned, for her Haven, to base her Talah'dorei culture off those mystical people of strife and deception. At such, the expedition could prove rather interesting for herself as well. But as much as she sought refuge in her own realm, she loved Jidaeo, more than any mortal could conceive. Having ended so much lifes, she was herself knowing of their both constitution, almost immortal – a life of endless loving and ruling. She smirked to herself as such thoughts came to her mind. She continued, nonetheless, the reading. “...The Skull was placed there, in the Grove, resting for eternity. It is only after the Sundering its location was lost, perhaps stolen by Highborne, or vengeful Trolls, or bemused Human slaves who fled their owners in the aftermath of the disaster, and sought something to relieve their fears. What is sure, is that about a month ago, one of my agents discovered of a Kaldorei pilgrimage into the lands. Duskwood is certainly the first place to visit, at such.â€Â
Maureen glanced at Jidaeo. He was sweetly smiling, and glanced back in her eyes. She might have taken it as love. He was just offering her a deal. Which she accepted, right away. She would go by herself, she declared, and venture into the Duskwoods, unraveling whichever mystery shrouded the lands. She departed the following night on a purple Hawkstrider, and for about a week, rode almost tirelessly through the lands. Evading any hostile monsters, and dispatching the few foolish enough to hinder her progress. She arrived, on the eighth morning following her departure, in a daunted, cursed forest. Southern Elwynn, also known as Duskwood. She laid the bird and herself to rest, as she had already passed a few times in the area, and knew her way rather well. At least until the mouth of the grove, which was surrounded on three sides by great, dangerous, infested hills. She finally arrived in central Duskwood, in the Forlorn Grove. She would begin her quest for treasure, knowledge...and survival.[/justify]