[DP] Where do roots go?

[Bovel]

Where do roots go?

Outland. Once the windswept world of Draenor, origin of the orcs. A cradle of life not part of the Emerald Dream or just not part of our Dream. Perhaps a haven from the influence of the Nightmare and it's twisting wickedness. Nevertheless a world of opportunities and secrets unraveled.

Druids of the Cenarion Expedition have all experienced the difference between Outland and Azeroth. The Ancients seem so far away and the sway held over plantlife has diminished on this corrupted world. On several occations have druids wandered off into the wilds never to be seen again or have shouldered the aspect of an animal and unable to regain their elven or tauren body and mind. The Beast is wary on the verge of flight and Life held so intimately is veiled by distance and something unknown.

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Synopsis

Druids have ever since the re-opening of the Dark Portal sensed something veiling them from the source of their powers. Some have lost control of their bestial forms while others have been unable to call upon thorns, vines or regenerative energies.

The only exception to this mysterious veil is the essence of the bird that not only seems stronger but blesses whoever channels it feelings of euphoria and unparalleled freedom.

Pilgrims came across lost ones that could assume the guise of kaliri, an avian specie native to Draenor. These shapeshifters threatened the travelers with the powers of the "Great Bird".

A few druids struggle to retain control over the inner Beast and spends increasingly more hours of the day as an animals, some have even been known to turn aggressive towards friends when shifting to a bestial form.

On accident the pilgrims stumble upon a night elven mercenary abusing an arakkoa in the Lower City. The mercenary claims to have been ordered by other arakkoa within the city to get answers from the bird-man Rookan. He is suspected to have aided in the kidnapping of children by arakkoa from Skettis. Rookan is the second to speak about the "Great Bird" with fearful respect.

In Terokkar an elven druid of the talon is discovered nailed to a tree and made into an idol of a bird. The druid's injuries were to great for him to survive the ordeal and his last words to the pilgrims were; "Run!"

Lillisea, like other druids, has been plagued by horrific nightmares. Involving rotting and twisted nature and almost always a bird of some kind.

Anchorite Telah and the druid head for the Cenarion Refuge to get answers but on the way they are attacked by a fetid and tar-filled bog lord.

At the refuge Lillisea suddenly becomes ill and pukes a dark and opaque slime that forms into an ooze and laters turns into a mass of tentacles and teeth. Globules of the strange ooze seeps into the peat and animates it into another rotting monster.

The pilgrims turn to two arakkoa for help; Rookan Turnfeather that demands a human sacrifice in the name of Terokk to help and Shiira Brightnest that wants her clutch, which she suspects is corrupted, purged since she cannot make herself do it. A difficult decision lies ahead for the pilgrims.

A decision was reached and they set out to aid priestess and clutch-watcher Shiira to purge the eggs she believed tainted but unable to kill herself. Valiantly the pilgrims tried to determine which eggs were tainted and which were not, but in the end they ran out of time and had to purge all the clutches. Almost, Wolfgang saved two eggs and together with Cristo tried to save at least two lives. But it turned out that one was empty and the other chick had already passed away.

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Related Links
              A Pilgrim's Schedule
              The Draenic Pilgrimage

[Rowgen]

I helped them.

Linevi sat outside the infirmary, alone. I helped them. Her eyes stung. The others were inside, talking. She’d helped them, and she sat alone. It wasn’t fair. She was still cold, even though she wore a warm cloak and tucked it tightly around herself. Her throat was sore and raw where the tendrils had coiled themselves around it. She massaged it, though the pain lingered. A tear broke free, and soon others followed. A sob came unbidden from the depths of her chest, and before she could stop herself she was weeping. I helped them, so why are the looks they give me so hateful? It’s not fair. She’d helped them summon the raven, and she’d fought it afterwards. She’d done everything he had asked of her. The anchorite said he didn’t know much of Shadow. Why did he judge her so harshly? After all she'd done, his eyes had still been cold, and his tone hard and unkind when he spoke to her.

He's afraid of me.

She hadn't thought of that, but it made sense. She remembered the feeling of safety that had washed over her when the tendrils let go, and let her breathe again even though she no longer needed air. For a few minutes, she had been a goddess. The thought of foreign gods came to mind. The trolls, for instance. Their gods were feared, weren't they? That must've been why the Anchorite had treated her so unfairly. He feared her, and what she could do. Her power.

He fears my power. The thought comforted her. It doesn't matter, I don't need him or his ignorance. A weak smile touched her lips. Nobody could call her weak now.

[Zhaei]

For the first time in many weeks, Lillisea did not awake atop an Olemba tree deep within the Terokkar forest. She had already become accustomed to sleeping in the day, but the thin, weathered rug underneath her skin was not familiar to her when she roused. In the moment between dream and reality, she did not think to recall previous events: her attempt to jump up, motivated by her more primal instincts, was cut short by daggers of pain shooting along her arms. She gasped, slumping back down to the ground. Closing her eyes and calming her now ragged breathing, she began to think back to the events some hours earlier.

They had flown to the summit of a great mountain in the upper reaches of Outland; it was the first time she had seen snow on Draenor.

I remember committing myself to sleep... nightmares plagued me, that were so real and vivid I felt pain in the corporeal realm. As this curse had only been affecting the druids, it was my duty to serve as some foul surrogate.

Perhaps Aviana had some domain over Draenor, for our plight was remedied by two magnificent birds... Kaliri. Without them we surely would have perished, but together we managed to... defeat? Unsummon. Unsummon this creature. One of them shared a moment with me... a feeling I will remember for many years to come I felt. Hm.

Though I am besmirched by tearing scars from my dream-life attacks, I am not bitter or horrified; they serve as a memory.

The druid rose, slowly this time, and made her way to the to the shattered edge of the infirmary. Countless many she had aided here, but it felt oddly satisfying for her to be the one who had been cared for.

[CappnRob]

Three Months Ago...

              Cristovao packed his things, alone in the Shattrath infirmary. He hadn't brought much, he never does when he travels. Just some books, a handful of money for food and lodgings... bare essentials and nothing much else. The only extraneous things he ever brought were his inkwells, pen and parchment. The whole time, he was silent, the paladin's mind unusually empty for thoughts following his excursions with the Draenei pilgrimage and the Arakkoa. What was there to be thought or said, really? He'd already come to terms with the destruction of the nest. What was a monstrous avian beast, veiled in shadows, compared to that? Certainly, it was frightful, and the battle against it was arduous and grueling... but that was all it was. Fear is a passing sensation, quickly fading once whatever frightens you is gone. Physical pain can be soothed and mended... but there was one lingering feeling within the man's heart.

              Justice. The source behind the nest's corruption was vanquished. No longer would the innocent be harmed by the cruelties and selfishness of the shadow raven or its cult. That which was lost can not be brought back... but at least now, suffering was at an end. It was time to rest.

[Bovel]

And so we learned where some of the roots go.