Conquest of the Horde

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WAR OF THE SHIFTING SANDS

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              I had another dream of the War. Even in our capital the sands of Silithus still haunt me. It was different this time. Instead of simply reliving it, I had an owl’s eye view of the battlefield. It was larger than I had ever imagined even being a part of the conflict. Though seeing our kind fall upon those sands I would sooner call it a slaughter. As always I remembered the sun being blotted out by the silithid. The dread pierces my soul and yet I can’t imagine the following scene. My gaze drops down onto the Qiraji General moments before he tears Valstann in twain. It’s memories like these that eat at my very being. Not only was he Fandral’s son, but he had a family of his own. About the time I get frustrated I am reminded of the Scarab Wall. Again from impossible heights I watch the noble dragons and their elven companions’ sacrifice as they push into Ahn'Qiraj. The last thing I remember is the weaving of magic to contain the threat.
THE SCARAB LORD

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              I’ve never met the esteemed Scarab Lord face to face. So to dream about her in such intimate detail is unnerving. I watched her walk in front of the various racial commanders of the Might of Kalimdor as they prepared to siege Ahn’Qiraj again after all those years. Even in the light of such audacity, their expression towards Shiromar was the utmost respectful. They revered her courage. How could she be so peaceful and committed knowing the horror she’s about to release? Even so she remains focused on her duty. She pauses only long enough to scan the multitude of the Might of Kalimdor. I’m in there somewhere. Saurfang’s speech still rings in my ears but there was no sound in this dream. Shiromar puts all her might into crushing the sacred scepter against the ancient gong. The crashing sound caught me off guard.. was just as terrible as I recalled. I jerked awake in a cold sweat and felt sick to my stomach. I prayed to Elune for respite from these nightmares from my past. It’s time to move on, isn’t it?
THE HIDDEN VICTORY

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              The next night I was reading a report on cultist activity across Darkshore when I was interrupted with a vision. It was the Might of Kalimdor roaring with praise after victory had been announced. I remember dispatching a few stragglers myself, but again, this dream wasn’t focused on myself. Therefore I have decided these must be visions from Elune. I’ll be honest and say this felt like an aggressive vision. She didn’t wait until I was sleeping! To test this theory I tried to manipulate the focus of the vision. I thought of the last one and I questioned Shiromar’s location. To my surprise my focus whirled around to see her tending to the wounded. But soon my vision was lifted towards Ahn’Qiraj once more. I catch a glimpse group of adventurers pressing into the empty ruins. For what purpose, the war was over?

              No sooner did I think that and my gaze dropped though the sands to the underbelly of Ahn’Qiraj. Instantly the form of a giant lidless eye snatches my attention as the adventurers do battle with what seems to be the entire cave. When my eyes return to the giant orb, I feel my heart drop instantly. Had I not known better I would say that it was glaring right at me! A strange wash of whispers floods my mind before one ravages my consciousness:
“You will betray your friends.” A bright flare of silver flames strikes at the eye and my vision seems blinded by it. When it returns I am shown all the war-weary soldiers heading home. While I know I had returned to the Cenarion Hold, I can’t help but to be drawn to my own home of Southwind Village. It remains in ruins to this day.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

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              Today I make the short jog from Cenarion Hold to Southwind Village. The sun beats down relentlessly and the constant buzz of the Swarming Pillar rings in my ears. After this I should return to Karnum’s Glade for some peace and quiet. Finally I have met up with my Dawnsaber, Jasmine. It is not often I ride her as my plate armor is heavy and truly my fallen home is a short distance away. Her soft sounds and silent steps soothe my rugged outlook on these eternal sands. I look up and view the broken buildings of my hometown. I never enjoy visiting my home in this state, but I would go one step further and actually enter the forgotten town. As I stand before the ruins, I am greeted with the past. Our people are trapped in endless torture as spirits roam throughout Southwind.

              Warily I step down into the town and it seems the spirits will leave me be. Could it be they recognize one of their own? Or will they catch me off guard? My mind races with these thoughts as I ebb closer to the Inn. I dare not enter though as a few spirits seem to be listening to a specific Sentinel. I do not recognize her. I look over my shoulder and remember that Jasmine does not near Southwind on her own. I am sure the spirits are cause for that; and I cannot find fault with that reasoning. But as I wandered around the side of the building to get a better look, I kicked something poking out of the sand. I looked up and the spirits hadn’t noticed me so I knelt down. I pull free a book and give it a brief look over. It is an old ledger from the Innkeeper. Inside contains a record of guests, inn supplies, revenue and a list of staff. Perhaps this could reveal the identities of these wandering spirits? No sooner did I turn a page when a trio of silithid descended from the overrun guard tower! Quickly I rolled against the side of the inn and secured the tome of information. I watched them come around for another pass and I grabbed my twin glaives. The forward bug was easily dispatched within a flurry of steel. However I was knocked to the side by the other. And for a moment I lost track of the third. I sprinted a few steps into the open and scanned my surroundings. Did they return to the guard tower? I did not stay to find out.

              Jasmine met me about halfway between Southwind and Cenarion Hold. I am forgetful about how protective she is. I wonder if she’ll soon be heavy with cubs? Unfortunately I am unskilled in such manners of breeding sabers. Regardless, I’m sure she would be a fine mother to them. The way she comes and goes reminds me of my mother. They seem just concerned enough to ensure my well-being. And Elune help me if I am not well; then they do not relent in their pursuit to make it so! I reach over and rub on the saber’s ear affectionately. I see her reaction and wonder if she knows how much I appreciate her company. In the warmth of these feelings I prepare myself to return to Darnassus without progress. I am not looking forward to asking the Sisterhood for help.
PATIENCE

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              I am reminded of how lonely I feel even while visiting the teeming capital of my kin. The kind smiles and warm hospitality do little to prepare me for facing the Sisterhood again. My only relief is that I am not here for my usual request for Silithus. Instead, I seek earnest spiritual guidance. I take to my usual quiet spot within the Temple of the Moon. It is a quiet nook in the shadows draped beyond the azure hue of the statue. As always, I take a moment and consider the physical prowess of the statue. She represents a steadfast faith but I cannot help but to wonder what it would be like to indeed hold a bowl like that under a waterfall. Perhaps my next trip into the Desolace I will attempt such a feat.

              However my idle fantasies are interrupted by the familiar face of a young acolyte named Sinali. She shows me a kindness unlike the other priestesses. We spend a great deal of time within the shadows speaking of all my odd adventures and visions. I appreciate her patience with my ramblings. The advice Sinali gives me is sound, if not a bit too predictable. Nonetheless I respect her guidance and step forward to plead to Elune in silent prayer. What else could I ask but for enlightenment? I ask if she is trying to show me something and if so, to reveal it to me. There is also a personal matter heavy on my heart and so I likewise lift that up to her. I can’t help but to feel greedy with all these requests. So to balance my spirit I will fast with my body. A week comes to mind and I readily accept it to myself.

              I find myself unsure with what do in the meantime. I will remain in Darnassus and focus on my spiritual discipline for the week I have set aside. Afterwards I may go on a sabbatical. It has been pointed out to me that perhaps I need to move on from the sands. That has been an ever-present thought since the end of the Second War of the Shifting Sands. However, this tome I recovered from Southwind Village is most intriguing. I will attempt to memorize the names in hopes of bringing some peace to the lost souls of my hometown.
EPILOGUE

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Too dark to disclose.
              Three days after my fasting I find myself lost in another vision. Rich hues of cobalt and cyan color my view of an icy land. I see a very familiar black and white standard doing battle with the forces of the undead. Realizing this must be the war in Northrend, I concentrate on everything I see in the hopes of picking out what is supposed to be revealed to me. And yet all I can see despair. Women and men of all races fall at the onslaught of the undead. I notice a fellow Kaldorei. My mind darkens at this injustice at first. But the more I watch, I realize this is their choice. I can’t help but wonder what Elune thinks of this situation? The more I focus on my own thoughts the more the vision fades. I try to refocus but it slips though my hands like sand.
THE SCARAB LORD RETURNS

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Unavailable.
              It’s been a while since my last vision. Dreams and idle fantasies are so pale in comparison to the vivid detail of these revelations. The same scene plays out across the far reaches of Northrend. But like the first visions, it focuses in on a familiar figure again. It’s Shiromar. She’s protecting various soldiers with Elune’s holy magic. And then the vision fades as I wake. It was such a simple vision. I am taken back at its precise nature. As always I have more questions than answers when I realize this was a purposeful dream.

              I spent the early hours of my evening meditating on everything I’ve been shown. Or at least what I believe I am being shown. It seems to be focused around Shiromar and her travels throughout the world. It’s curious how her skills and faith never seems to waver despite her far removal from our ancestral forests. Even while in the capital city I can’t help but to be homesick. Divine or not, I miss the sands of my own ancestral lands.

              I spoke of these things to a priestess. As usual their replies to me were ever-cautious. However she was quite adamant about me not returning to Silithus this time. She hinted at some sort of dark premonition of her own. I’ve been through and seen far worse than the vague warnings of the Sisterhood. Still, I took the rest of the day to research what I could find on the Scarab Lord herself. I will attempt to walk in her footsteps and see if I can gain some understanding of these visions.
CRUSHED

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              Whatever victory we claimed today is lost to me. A priestess of the moon named Tharill was sacrificed to the Old Gods today. I was also defeated shortly after. Had it not been for the rest of the Warden’s forces, I would have met a similar fate. When the battle was over and my strength returned by a Druid. I did not linger long enough to catch her name. I scooped up the Moon Priestess’ body and began the journey back to Lor’danel. This is the heavy burden of the warrior’s path. I was right there as her spirit slipped from her body and I was unable to prevent it. I must retain that this is because of the cultists’ actions and not my own. I must endure the flow of events as they are presented to me. I just wish they wouldn’t crush my own spirit as waves do upon a shore.

              I lay Tharill down in front of a moonwell next to Irlara Morninglight. She is the resident priestess trainer in Darkshore. Irlara seems equally concerned for me until she realizes Tharill is gone. She waves over an aide and I politely step out of the picture. I know she will be in good hands. These dank woods are depressing and my armor is in disrepair. I should drop it off in Darnassus to have it repaired. In the meantime I will return to my homeland and continue my own journey.
KALIMDOR’S REDOUBT

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              I find it curious that my travels have led me aside another Warden. Anthrion Ironraven from Ashenvale has found his own task in Silithus. I enjoy the company of such an accomplished man outside of Druidism. After a brief reunion we went our separate ways once again. The journey from the Cenarion Hold to the Gates of Ahn’Qiraj is a perilous one and I find myself alone again. Perhaps the Night Warrior is a solitary creature as I am frequently experiencing during these pilgrimages. This does not bother me as it gives me an opportunity for self-reflection. As I mentioned to Warden Ironraven, I’m barely grasping all these changes in recent months. I am unsure where Elune is leading me and it is challenging my confidence. I notice some thoughts that betray my own nature and I worry how they come to fruition. All I can do is keep these concerns to my Goddess and myself. The thought of training to be a Warden once crossed my mind, but I do not envy the Warden’s path outside their unique relationship to the Night Warrior.

              Thankfully, the familiar trip to the Gates was uneventful. These great walls once contained the greatest threat to Kalimdor. Stone and ancient magic blessed both by The Moon Goddess and Bronze Dragonflight working together to seal back the threat all those years ago. Today, this great redoubt is a hollow monument of the past. Yet my spine still shivers as my hand grazes the ruins. After some time in this secluded place, I take my leave and travel east to a small dwarven camp. I’ll enjoy the light-hearted company of the Bronzebeards well into the night.
INTO THE NIGHT

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              I lurch awake in a cold sweat as I am startled out of my restless slumber. I hear the incoherent murmurings of the dwarves in their own tent. Frustrated I get up attend to my belongings. I tried to recall my dream but it is all lost in a haze of chaos. The only thing I can sort out is The Eye, but it has haunted me for sometime now. Groggily I leave the encampment without a word. The Cenarion Hold is not too far and night is the best time to travel. Especially with the White Lady in full display in the sky. As I study the white orb I get this queer sensation. It seems larger than I recall, but this is probably due to my time away from these sands.

              Out of the corner of my eye I notice the crystals shifting in the night. That’s not normal, I thought. The amber shards rose and formed an ungainly obelisk. The dull coloring faded until the pillar seemed to reflect the stars of the night only.. different. My body flinched at a sudden flash of amethyst. “hoq plahf sk’fssh qi fash ilfah!” leaves my lips as I struggle to fight the power overwhelming my mind. Magic seeps into my armor and into my very being. With a shaking hand I draw my glaive with an unnatural grip. I’m not sure who’s commanding the tip towards my furiously beating heart. Is it I, so that I may not be a slave to this terrible power? No, it won’t end like this! Get out! “GET OUT!” thrusts out of my lungs with every fiber of my being. My vision is returned to me just in time to see the vile obelisk crack with a brilliant silver light. It shatters with a loud ringing that pierces my mind and suddenly I am met with a deafening silence.

It’s over for now.
A NEW DAWN BREAKS

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              Sluggishly I press on north to the Cenarion Hold. I fear I will not make it by dawn, which means trouble from the remnants of the silithid. My body feels heavy even as my eyes draw up to the familiar buzzing sound of wasps. Three.. by the looks of it. I ready my glaives and wait for their attack. The first one leads the dive and I dodge to the side- right into the second one. We clash into the sand and an instant later I feel the third land on me. Its stinger finds purchase behind my knee moments before bury my weapon in its carapace. I roll out from under it and test my legs. It won’t be long before the venom works through my body. The two hover just above my reach and seemingly taunt me. I yell out in frustration to provoke their next move. They dive back down in opposing patterns. A quick jaunt forward throws them off their mark. One aborts back up while I claim the life of the anxious one who adjusted to my movements. That display seems to drive off the last one as I’m left watching it fly away. My leg throbs from injury and I can feel the venom weighing heavily on my every movement. I pause and notice something coming into view. Sweet relief graces my expression and I chuckle to myself. I try to stand straight to greet Jasmine, my faithful companion. I reach out and lay myself onto her back.

              “Captian, we’ve got a live one to the South.” says a Cenarion Guardian.

              “Go see to it, Delsha.” the leader commands.

              The Guardian descends from the lookout tower and makes a stop to pick up a skein of cactus juice. She slows next to the main gate to watch the Dawnsaber approach. Delsha’s amber eyes hang on the collapsed warrior’s form to assess the situation. She collects the saber’s reins and guides her towards the main barracks. “Look what the cat brought in..” she muses to herself as she motions for a medic for assistance. The two pull the sun-bleached Sentinel from his mount and Jasmine lies just outside of the building. “Just looks like someone’s been playing with the slithid again. Two wounds.. this one’s infected.” Then the medic starts preparing her work area. “When he’s up, let me know. I have some questions I’d like to ask him.”

              “I’ll send word for you, of course.” After the Guardian leaves, the medic begins to clean out the wounds. While she works, she hums a familiar temple hymn. In time she leaves the Sentinel to rest for the night.

              “Rest, warrior. In a few days you will return to Darnassus.” I find myself resting against rock in a quiet bath. I’m tired, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be moving anytime soon. Something catches my eye and I notice a figure dancing in the moonlight.

              Eventually, I open my eyes into the morning sun peering through the building. I smell the warmth of coffee and a breakfast kimchi. To my left is a bowl and cup on a nightstand. Pushing myself up I notice how rested my body feels. Grabbing the cup of coffee I work my way towards the overlook. A bit of a stretch followed by a slow sip is how I like to take in my sunrises. Often I wonder why I enjoy them so much and my kin up north prefer the nights, yet we are both blessed in our own ways by Elune’s good graces. And just like that, everything falls into place. I smile warmly to myself and my goddess before getting ready. It’ll be a long trip!
THE QUIET RETURN

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              Darnassus bustles with the same business and culture as any other capital city I’ve been to. But even as I walk its stone paths, I know we are a particularly blessed people. Ever since the dawn of creation we have the chosen of our Goddess Elune. Throughout the ages we have face one calamity after another. Often we are the front lines against the tide of darkness.

              There’s a bench set off behind the bank that provides a quiet spot to rest from the flight. I find it amazing that the spring that feeds the waters is adequate enough to create a waterfall down the sides of Teldrassil. Maybe when I see my brother again, I will ask him about it. And the train of thought which has driven me to our capital expands my understanding as clear as any words spoke; Elune blesses druid and warrior alike. While Cenarius and even perhaps the great Green Dragonflight focuses on druids, our goddess makes no such favoritism. Save.. save for the priestesses. For the ones who specifically devote their lives to guiding our kin through all their struggles are granted a special blessing. Such has it been throughout our entire history, no matter the location. This is why I’ll choose to walk this path myself.
THE RITUAL OF UNSPOKEN VOWS

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              “ To honor the Moon Goddess we keep in time with the lunar cycle. The New Moon represents the new path you have chosen. You have left everything before this point. In two days you will take the first vow. ”

              It has been two days since I heard these words. Clothed in a neophyte’s robe I climb up the small steps to a moonwell. I shed the covering and descend into the well. I sit cross-legged and cup my hands under the waters. I bring a portion of it up and let the waters cascade over my lifted face. I focus my thoughts back to the meaning of this rite.

              “ The Crescent Moon only exposes the beginning of the moon. Just the very surface of its true depth, just as a person’s body does. For this reason you undergo a physical purifying rite. Not to remove dirt, but to consecrate your body to serve the Moon Goddess. ”
THE RITUAL OF UNSPOKEN VOWS

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              I had hoped to return to Silithus for the rite of the Half Moon. But walking the sands of Darkshore is eerily fitting. Along the shore I am reminded of how destruction has wracked this land and deprived it all hope. That’s not unlike how I feel. And faced with it, it’s unnerving. I’m over seven thousand years old with three.. three failed relationships. Coupled with the weight of mortality, argh. This is not something I like to dwell on. Is this what you want Elune? Yes, I am lonely!

              “ The Half Moon represents the emotional pledge you must take. What does it entail? That is for you to find out. The neophyte must come to terms with his unresolved emotions. Take these words and meditate under a clear sky someplace of spiritual significance for you. Perhaps someplace with sand? ”

              Barathil’s knees hit the sand and vocalizes his distress. The rest of him collapses into a ball with two curled fists dropping lightly to the sand. A long moment passes. Memories of this time in Southwind Village come to his mind. Even in the jungles of Feralas. Among the death of the Shifting Sands, there were others beside him. I’ve always been surrounded by my kin. He looks up at the moon and releases a broken sigh. And you.
THE RITUAL OF UNSPOKEN VOWS

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              She finds it amusing that I would pick Astranaar of all places to complete this ritual. And curiously dangerous. Though Elune is a goddess of peace, she does not abandon her people in the midsts of conflict. She provides the shadows with her radiance and the healing from another. Such it has been throughout history.

              “ The Full Moon represents Elune’s open eye and the most important pledge of this ritual. Say what you will and join the ranks of the Temple. ”

              Barathil looks up into the moonlight and stretches out both arms lowly, “Perhaps you’ve been trying to get my attention all these years. I’ve been wrapped up in my own life for far too long. I give what is left of it in service to you and your chosen people, no matter where they are or when I might cross their path.” With that he drops his gaze and steps out of the oculus.

~ Fin ~