Post by Sveraes on Feb 11, 2012 13:38:59 GMT 1
Mehtomiel addresses the crowd
“An old Sentinel tradition. We share stories, of victory, battle or defeat. If you wish to join, go and leave your weapons further away. There will be no weapons, no fighting, and no lies at a Howl.
Leave the staff. no weapons at a Howl.”
People greet and put aside their weapons, outside the area where the howl takes place.
Fayena lets out a hacking cough into the back of her hand, wiping the specks of blood from her lips as she glances around at the various kaldorei and outsiders gathered. She is wounded, and bandaged with her arm in a sling.
Kaleina clentches her staff, as Mehtomiel looks at her. “It's not as a weapon, it's as leverage to stand back up in a moment.” She turns her head peering out from under her hood, she bows slightly at Sarama.
Mehtomiel continues. “This tradition is from the time of the Long Vigil. Tell a story, something about yourself. Victory, battle, defeat. It must be true, to lie at a Howl is shameful.
Sarama interrupts. ”Never liked that part. And especially not that part. Hard to tell interesting story where you are not allowed to add flavour.”
Others shake their heads dismissively.
“You called this one.” Mehtomiels says looking at Sarama. Sarama nods “So I did. Welcome all to this howl. For those of you who may not be familiar with how this works, it is very simple. Respect the others while they howl, don’t interrupt. If you have questions or like to express an opinion. Wait until the person has finished his or her howl.
Chit sits with her hands folded in her lap, listening. Other than that you cant mess up...much. So we are gathered, many wants to howl. Who wants to be the first?”
She says as she looks around at the gathered people. “Sveraes, do you want to begin?”
“I can, if no one else will” he replies. Sarama nods at Sveraes “You have the word.”
The story takes place hundreds of years ago, while I was still a young child. It was during the long vigil, but after the war of the shifting sands if you seek to place the moment in time. I was aspireing to become a druid. At that time a budding young. We were a few other youngsters in our little community at that time. I will tell the tale of two of them, brother Fairleaf and sister Nightgrove. It happens, and happened during the Long vigil as well. That some would find that they belonged together. While not, being mates or close to it, they were together. It was a burden at time I remember how my Shan'do wasn't pleased with Fairleaf not showing up at times. But as we filled into our respective places in society Nightgrove went on to join the sisterhood and all it involved, they weren't mates so, so it went. But fairleaf did not do well with his Druidism. Too much of a dreamer. He missed the lessons that a druid should serve the balance. Keep the river from running astray, not throw a rock in the stream. Perhaps the animal spirit he bonded with was too strong. But, at one point he decided that instead of dreaming, he would roam the wilds as a feral cat.
Yes, he decided to become a savagekin. Guided purely by his feral instinct.
It overcame him.
He perished for the community and we would not speak of him any more. And so, maybe a century went by. In those many years Nightgrove actually found a mate. One day the two of them were travelling in the wilds. I know not what happened, they were hunting, perhaps.Perhaps that was why. Or mayhaps there were a little shadow of his Kaldorei self left in Fairleaf, fuelled by feral instinctive rage and control. It matters not, but Nightgrove returned alone to the village. And that is the story, for one shall not speak of what came next. The howl is of defeat, of Fairleaf and Nightgrove.
What makes it yours? Mehtomiel asks. They were my friends at childhood as I said, sveraes quickly replies.
All the gathered howls, but Fayena who never really howls as she appears to be too much in pains to do so. When all are done howling Sarama stands up. “One has howled. Do anyone wish to ask Sveraes anything before the next one howl?”
Kaleina shakes her head, she moves to pull down her hood, shaking her silvery hair to rest over her shoulders, framing the grey flaking skin of her face and sunken eyes. She watches Sarama patiently.
Sarama looks at Sveraes. “I have heard about some...interesting methods on one of my druids. I can see that the topic might be close to you.
“One has howled, who will howl next?” She says looking around the moonwell again.
Kaleina rises up slightly: “I shall if you so wish it.”
Kaleina smiles kindly. She pauses for a moment gathering her thoughts, when she speaks her tone is tired and sad.
“My howl is one kept close for too long. More than a millennia has passed since the days.
I was fresh to the sisterhood. Keen to learn, to aid. The call came, the summoning of all to the sands of Silithus. I still remember the journey, the tales and broken stories that filtered from the front line. Nothing prepared us for the slaughter. I with my sisters were charged with the aid and recovery of the wounded and dying from the fields. Day blended into night there, hour after hour of blood and misery. Elune blessed many, many more were taken to her warm embrace. I remember as the weeks wore on, seeing the inevitability of it all, the realisation of the balance of all things. How cold I became. There were more wounded than there was time to save. The moment the haunts me - and always shall, was the day I held a young sentinel in my arms. I looked down at her, I could have saved her.... I could have, but the time it would have taken to save her... I could have saved so many more... I remember making the decision, her howls and pleads as I said what blessings I could, and left her on the sands.”
Kaleina trails off, she watches the waters swirl for a moment.
“My howl is one of balance, one of regret and shame, of the strength to make the decision that must be, at the end of all things.”
They all howl.
Kaleina opens her eyes and looks to Sarama, nodding once with thanks.
Sarama rises up. “An other has howled, and the night is still young. Any words to share before we hear the next howl?”
Chit comforts Kaleina “Not a question but I would like to honour all those who make the damn hard decisions that gotta be made, so others can live.”
And so does Murdokh “Ain't ever easy to make the hard choice, but it's usually the right one.”
“Thank you for kind words. The passing days of reflection do add voice to the doubt.” Kaleina replies as she smiles sadly at the speakers.
“Lot of elves died on those sands, you kept that number lower than it could have been. You did right. “Fayena chips in
Sarama looks around at the gathered again. “Fayena, I think I heard you try to make a sound before. Do you want to howl next?”
Fayena nods, and slowly rises to her feet, prying herself away from the nearby wood she was using as support, checks her balance, then breathes deeply before beginning “I have something i shall share. Yes.”
“I shall give my tale to one who isn't a Kaldorei. His name was Ramuul Highmountain, and he was one who had more than earned the right to call me sister. I had met Ramuul twice, and in his eyes, that was enough for me to be worth this life. The first time i met the Tauren, was during my recent battles around the Thousand Needles. The local tauren tribe had been betrayed by one of their own to the grimtotem, and it was our job to reclaim their home. It was strange, seeing water in that valley again after so many millennia. Stranger still to be standing alongside Tauren as well as sentinels. We were put in pairs, the twisting pathways and bridges not suited to more than that, and i was with Ramuul. I later found out he requested to stand with a Kaldorei, but at the time all he gave me was aloof and curt gestures, a service i paid in kind. It was a full day till he spoke, a crude version of our tongue, but once he did, we spoke frequently. Tauren are simple, true, but they are also honest. You earn ones trust, and you have it. They say only what they mean, and never what they do not to one at their side. Had I the choice, I would have them with us not alongside the butcherer. After fighting was finished, and the tauren had their home back, most kaldorei left, myself included. Hamuul lost an eye and his left horn, a price he said more than worth a home for this tribe, but also worth gaining a friend.”
“I did not see Hamuul again for some time, untill recently when i was back in my ashenvale. I was visiting the grave of Rhandralor, a child i had known who died many moons ago. I was unarmoured, carrying nothing but a hand axe, and they were not. There were five of them. A savage and four butcherers, two of which came at me frothing at the mouth. You can see what they did, before a guttural cry in the butcherer's tongue came from their hidden leader, a Tauren missing an eye and his left horn.”
Fayena gestures at her chest and sling as she talks about what they did, letting out a one sided smirk on the left side of her face.
“Ramuul walked slowly up to me, planted his spear butt firmly into the ground, and talked to me in my tongue, in the grunting way he always did. I will not tell you the words, they are for me and me alone, but due to him, I left breathing and alive. I stumbled my way back to Astranaar, got myself bandaged up and this broken arm in a splint, then slept. I was awoken by a warhorn. An orcish raiding party had stuck a banner outside Astranaar, with a message and a severed head upon it.
Fayena sighs, glancing around and speaking the next section slowly and with purpose
The head was a tauren, missing an eye and his left horn. Below the head, scrawled in blood, were the words "This is what we think of your traitor, cowards". Ramuul knew the price was his life when he ordered me let go, but he did it regardless.
So I howl for Hamuul. He may not have been Kaldorei, but he worth my grief unlike so many who were. I am proud that he called him sister with his final word to me, and were he here, i would name him brother back. People die, that is the way of this. This one, was more than worth remembering.”
Fayena leans her head back, struggles to take in a deep breath, and lets out a high sighing note, clenching her free hand into a fist as she does so.
They all Howl.
Sarama waits for the howl to fade out before standing up. “Alright, another has howled and there are many left. But before the next one howl, do anyone wish to share anything with Fayena?”
“I am sorry for your friend.” “I...you have my condolences, Sister. The Tauren should not be our enemies, and I count many among my friends.” “Honoured be the memory of friendship through difficult bonds.” The members of the howl reply in a mesh of words.
Fayena grunts acknowledgement of the comments, glancing up at the moon for a moment, before spitting some more blood out of her mouth
“I cant recall I howled for a tauren before, but that doesn’t make it any less right I guess.” Sarama nods. “So who wish to howl next?”
“Aye, sure, I've got one.” The human attendant Murdokh gets to his feet.
Sarama looks over at Murdokh and nods. “You have the word.”
Some of the elves take an extra look at the human, as he starts talking.
“Alright then, this is a tale, takes place in a little town trapped in the hills of Lordaeron. Weren't no plague on the ground back then. I remember the day, burning hot, you could get a dragon to sweat in that heat. Was around midday, and the sun was beating against the
town, I say town, wasn't more than a glorified trade post, really. The folk were about their business, out at market, trying to catch some shade, drinking from the dried up fountain. But it wasn't quite as alive as before. Times were folks would talk, and laugh... but that was before the Horde. Stormwind had already fallen by that point. Regardless. Guards got alerted by a sight on the road, figures riding horses... Don't envy the beasts, these figures were almost as big as the steeds themselves. Orcs, riding stolen mounts from another village. Now sure, there was only five of them, no more than the fingers on a man's hand. But them orcs were big. Guards at the gates didn't have more than a moment to sound the alarm before they fell. They started cutting their way through the place. Laughing and barking in their strange tongue. Their leaders was the biggest, ugliest brute you ever did see, eyes red like a demon's fire, and muscles that could break a giant's arm. They weren't there on no orders, they were having fun, rioting, pillaging. Those villagers that managed to get free cowered in their houses, shut the blinds, hoped their door wouldn't be the next to get knocked down. But this ruckus wasn't unnoticed.”
The listeners frown.
“Sound of beating hooves cut the sound of the orc's pillaging. A figure dropped from his horse, chainmail armor sparkling in the burning sun of high noon, and a bow strung across his back. The orcs paused, turning to him. He bowed his head, introduced himself as the Marshal of the town, like a gentleman. Now, that town weren't big enough for them orc boys. They had to move along. Runtiest among them charged forward, it's just another human to him. So the marshal whips out his bow, arrow in hand. And faster than lightning could hit a pig in a storm, the orc's got one between the eyes, crashing to the cobbles and coming to a halt.”
Some amongst the gathered makes a low grin.
“Of course, this gets the orcs riled, but weary. Clocktower strikes a bell, as the hour turns. Another orc's shot down, as the bell rings once more, another falls, then another... Soon, it's just the brute's leader and the marshal, staring down. He raises his weapon for another shot, but that orc's got the speed this time, charges forward, one swing of his axe cut that bow like lumber running through a sawmill. Aye, the marshal ain’t going to back down, though, sure, his foe's bigger. But he's lost guards, and villager who was under his care, makes him mad. Not mad enough to lose control, but mad enough to want them gone. Pulls a dagger from his boot, sure. I could go into detail about how they danced under that summer heat, blood spilling over the cracked floor. But y'all know how it must've ended. Those orcs were turfed out of that village. Now that's a lawman's job. I aint here 'howling' over this victory. But it's a statement, men don't ever give up in the face of a bigger foe. And I'd rather howl for the rest of them fine folks who lost their lives in the second war.
They all howl. Murdokh as well.
Sarama waits for the howl to fade out before standing up. “Anyone have something on the mind before we let the next one howl?”
“Nothing like a story of dead orcs.” Sveraes says with a smile on his face.
Dannelor looks up “If I may, I have a Howl to make.”
“You may speak.” Sarama replies and sits down.
Dannelor leans forward slightly, crossing his palms in his lap. He glances around at the moonwell.
“This is a story that I have not shared before, but I think...well. It is fitting to remember.
It was not so long ago, by my standards at least, that I was a novice druid, young and still fresh-faced. I was in Ashenvale, studying in Raynewood Retreat under a druid named Arendal Oakhide; A druid of the Claw. He was a great man, in many senses of the word, standing at least a head taller than any of the other druids at that particular tower, but even greater was his heart. He was a kind man, despite appearances, slow to anger, but by no means cowardly. He was teaching me of the Aspect of the bear so that I might further understand them, the ferocity and strength and the courage, and eventually, take their form. “
Dannelor casts a glance around the circle, shrugging lightly. He lowers his head, glancing into the waters.
My story proper starts when the greenskin Horde first invaded Ashenvale. They cut through our lands, burning and sawing at the ancient trees, and soon they came to Raynewood Tower. The Sentinels encamped there fought valiantly, but they were not at their strongest, their usual skill hindered by the numbers of the invading Horde and even the environment in which they were fighting. It did not take long for them to be overwhelmed.
Dannelor slowly shakes his head, before continuing.
“The remaining defenders retreated back to Raynewood Retreat to warn us of the invading orcs. The treants and the dryads were roused to defend their home, standing side by side with the Kaldorei, and the battle lines were drawn. I was...terrified, at best. The orcs had begun to advance up the hill towards the Retreat, but not without hindrance. I recall one of the Tauren came from the advancing mass, I could tell from his garb he was a Druid himself, and stood in front of the commanding orc.”
Dannelor glances at Fayena slightly as he speaks.
“What was said I do not know, but the noble tauren was struck down and the greenskinned horde continued to press on. I was stationed near the top of the tower, being but a novice, and I saw the entire battle play out. The lines clashed and many fell that day, orcs, Kaldorei and children of the forest alike, but the greatest loss of all was Arendal Oakhide.”
Fayena offers another of her grunts, glancing in Dannelors direction through the stone between then, frowning as she listens to Dannelors story”
“He was at the forefront of the battle, standing larger than even some of the invaders Kodo-beast mounts in his bear form, knocking aside line after line of orcs. Not one of the invading soldiers could defeat him and soon he had torn a hole in their attack
Many lives were saved because of his strength, courage, and steadfastness. It was the foul magic of an orcish Warlock that finally brought him down.”
Dannelor clenches his jaw, glancing around the circle of people, then off into the distance. A faint “no” can be heard.
“But the attack had been broken. The sentinels pushed back the lines of the Horde and the Retreat was ultimately saved. He taught me of courage and strength, be they Kaldorei or otherwise, and without him I may well not be here this day.”
Dannelor raises his gaze to the moon slightly.
“I howl for Arendal Oakhide, and all those lost that day, so that their sacrifice may not be forgotten, and their strength be with us all, for we will certainly need it.
Dannelor shows his teeth for a moment and begins to howl, sounding less lupine and more akin to the roar of a bear than anything else.”
They all howl.
“An other has howled.” Sarama gets to her feet.
“I think the strength of Arendal will haunt the orcs that escaped with their life that day for many years.”
“If noone else have anything to say, we might aswell move on to the next howl.”
Sarama looks around questioning. “Who is next to howl then?”
I suppose it's my turn... Rheen replies
Sarama nods at Rheen. “You have the word.”
Rheen nods in thanks “It's the story of how I became a thero'shan.”
Taldralos Skyreach, my Shan'do, tasked me to go and find some water for him in the forest. That was the sole task he gave me to test me. It seemed easy at the time. I searched for a while, it didn't seem long, when I heard some melody coming from the depths of the forest. I tried to follow it, and it led me to a small meadow with a pond, a cheerful dryad nearby. She was singing. The song went on something like this...”
Rheen tries her best to reenact the song. “The grass is growing, white waters flowing...”
“The leaves are swinging and the wisps are singing.”
“She was hopping around the water happily, I didn't know if I wanted to approach her. So I waited, hidden in a bush. I finally mustered the courage to go on, and she saw me, I think I even startled her a little.
I asked her why she was so happy, but she only laughed and hopped away into the forest. So I ran after her. I couldn't find her, even though she was still singing. This time the song was just mocking me.“
Rheen sings again.
“Look down here, around the tree...”
“Look behind it, can't see me!”
“I gave up and went back to the pond, and she was there waiting for me. I asked her again why she was so happy, and she sung something about... umh... can't remember... Anyway, I asked her if I could have some of the water. She replied again with a song, this one I remember!”
And so Rheen sings again.
“There is magic in this pond, that's why of it I'm so fond...
“You may drink, don't drain, don’t boil and don't spoil.”
“Enjoy this blessed pool, but abuse it not if a fool you are not.”
“I wasn't really thirsty, and I only wanted to bring water back to my future Shan'do. I approached with a waterskin and the dryad wiggled her finger, then sung something about it being forbidden to touch the waters with anything that's not alive. I wondered for a long time how I should bring some water back to my Shan'do. I tried carrying some in my hands, but it spilled before I could even leave the meadow. I tried using a leaf to carry it, but I wasn't successful even then.”
The audience grins slightly.
“I kept trying for the whole day until I was very hungry - at least I wasn't thirsty, there was plenty to drink, and it tasted like water, but then again, I don't know what magical water tastes like. I couldn't think of any way to bring some of the water back, so I returned empty-handed and admitted that I couldn't do it. I was ready to be rejected, knowing my Shan'do would probably find a better student. But he only smiled and praised me for admitting my failure. He told me he was glad I was so eager to become a druid, and yet I was so humble. So... that's how I became his student. And I howl for him, because I lost him when he was summoned to Hyjal last summer, to battle the fire elementals, and I am still waiting to see him again. I hope he is alright.”
They all howl, but Murdokh who apparently got tiered of howling.
Sarama gets on her feet. “An other has howled. A few still remain. Any words about the last howl before we listen to the next? I have the feeling that perhaps what you experienced, was a test all along.”.
Rheen shrugs “I didn't know what the test was...”
Sarama looks around the well “Who wish to howl next?” Isance tentatively raises a claw
Sarama nods at Isance. “Very well Isance. You go ahead.”
Isance clears her voice “Mine is a short tale, maybe even a trivial tale.” Being a Worgen, Isance speaks with a rough and with rolling R's. Still she tries to keep her voice light and bouncy, like telling a fairy tale to children.
“There was a young girl once, across the sea, living in a land that despised the magic of shadows. They called it vile and foul and voracious. No one can use the magic of the place between light and darkness. Not without going insane. So the girl hid her magic and tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of how she could help people. For if she looked really, really hard, she found she could see the worries of others in the way they tried to look like nothing was wrong”
Isance lowers her voice a little, to a conspirators mock-whisper, like revealing a deep secret
“It is such a little thing, such a little talent, hardly worth of note. And the little girl wanted to help sooo much. So she did it, first in secret, when she was surre no one was about. Later, as she got used to the thrill and the delight of helping others, in larger groups. But still careful to not draw attention attention to herself.”
Isance grins a little and winks at Kaleina
“Yet there was Jessica, a girl who was much loved by the teachers for her skill in the right kind of magic. She was lovely, kind, gentle, pure and thus, the most popular girl at the abbey. She was also quite sharp, and she noticed little things about the little girl. So Jessica asked the little girl. She knew better then to tell her, so she lied and said nothing was the matter. Did I say Jessica was smart? She did not believe the little girl. And kept a good eye on her, using her friends as extra eyes. And so they found that they got ‘cold tingles’ whenever the little girl ‘looked.’ A while later they talked and wondered what this meant, Jessica was the one that decided They would corner the little girl and force the truth out of her.
Isance `s voice turns darker and lower, trying to evoke an atmosphere of menace
“They did.”
Isance let`s that word hang in the air for a while
“Don`t for a moment think little children can not be mean... Orr sadistic. The little girl told them everything. But not under duress, no Jessica was really smart. She let the others be rough and nasty. Then Jessica swooped in to save the day. By this offer of kindness, false kindness, the little girl told them of her gift”
Isance `s voice turns light and hopeful, she opens her eyes wide and looks at the kaldorei imploringly
“Jessica had prromised to ‘take carre’ of herr, so all would be allrright, yes?”
Chit shakes her head.
Isance heaves a great sigh and speaks reluctantly
Alas, Jessica was terrified of the little girls loathsome magic. She told the Master of the Abbey. He turned to the little girl and… and…
Isance grimaces and her voice draws out more and more, as though dragging her heels.
“Well, he believed the little girrl was a sinnerr… and sinnerrs must rrepent… And if they don`t, they must be punished until they do.”
Isance pauses there dramatically.
[Isance] Now, even as storyteller I can not say if this was a defeat or a victory. The little girl lost a lot that day, respect, the desire to help others, maybe even honesty, but most assuredly her innocence. What she gained was pitifully little...
Isance `s voice turns cold and hard, and strangely relieved
“Just the cold, hard truth. And a strange friend, whom she called Raven, maybe I will tell more about him next time …Anyway… I howl for the little girl that vanished that day. I howl for all those that are judged wrongly. I howl for those that are judged merely on what they can not help but be borne with!”
Isance takes a deep, deep breath and let`s out a howl that starts deceptively soft, then starts to reverberate stronger and stronger, until the very air is filled with a sad, but relieved howl
They all howl.
Sarama stands up as the howls fade out. “Believe it or not, but I can recognise myself somewhat in that. Another has howled and we still have a couple left. If you want to share your thoughts with Isance, do it now before the next one howl.”
“Oh... I believe you Sarama, I just wonder what part was so recognisable” Isance replies.
Sarama continues “Another will howl, if no one objects I don’t mind to do it.”
Fayena tisks again and several looks at her. “Did you say something?” Sarama asks “I did not say a word.” Fayena puts the stress, although gently, upon say.
Sveraes looks up at Sarama “I think we are only missing you now.” Sarama nods at Fayena, and then shakes her head at Sveraes. “There are still others. But I will howl now.”
And so, Sarama begins her howl.
“I was sent on a mission. I wanted to go alone, but the voices upstairs insisted it was a two man job. I wouldnt have minded that much, even if I thought it was a waste of resources. But as it turns out, they coupled me together with a young and very green sentinel. They wanted her with on the mission because she had some special expertise.”
Sarama waves her hand dismissively.
“I don’t even remember what that was. All I remember was how something that could have been easy, became very annoying. There was a pirate crew who was very successful outside our coast. Our mission was to go there and chop of the head of the snake. They had the sea control, so we had to go by land through a very dense forest. A forest booby trapped by the very same pirates. Anyway, I think I had to save that sentinel from killing herself in about every damn one of those traps. Probably a few times from breaking her neck stumbling on roots as well. And whining, endless whining. There was times I considered to just finish what the traps otherwise would. It would have been easy enough to tell people she fell in a trap. But I tried to focus on the task at hand and kept holding that sentinel's hand. The first attempt on the pirate captain failed because she revealed our position and we barely managed to get away with our heads intact. We regrouped and disagreed on how we would continue. She insisted the mission was over as they knew we were in the forest. It wouldnt be possible to get close to the captain again. I kept explaining that the mission wasnt over. Our target wasnt dead. We couldnt agree and split up, she headed back home and I would make an other attempt at the captains life.
I thought everything was clear, but I had underestimated them. They were waiting, and I got caught.
There was the standard getting caught procedure, where I for once don’t feel like talking and they don’t want me to do anything else.They pretty soon realised that I wouldn’t talk, and I was looking death in the eye. When I caught the young sentinel in the corner of my eye.
Everything went very fast from there, but the sentinel manage to catch the captain by suprise and quickly kill him, then rescue me. It turned out that she had changed her mind, and caught up to me just as I was captured. She had then paitently waited for the right moment to strike. I owe her my life. I howl for Azaianna Moonmist, may her enemies fall swiftly or her spirit be honoured.
They all howl.
Sarama looks around the moonwell. “Another has howled. Almost all have howled, but I think a some has still remained silent. Do anyone wish to howl? Noone?”
Ithariel stands up “I wish to.”
Sarama nods at Ithariel “You may speak.”
Ithariel nods slightly.
“My name is Ithariel Springbreeze. Some of you know me, others don't. What is important for this howl is that I, as a druid, am a messenger.”
“I deliver what I am told, and as such, I sometimes hear messages of others. Some time ago, such a message had me go to Shattrath, in Terokkar forest. Unlike other missions, I had some time to wander off into the forest. There, I found a place where once, obviously stood a house, and next to it were remains of a small orchard. Nature already took what remained, as is the order of things. What nature didn't touch, however, were three graves. Two of an adult size, and one very small. All three of the graves had stones with writing I couldn't read, but they were names, written in Draenei script. As my curiosity got the best of me, I returned to Shattrath, and inquired with the Aldor about to whom those graves belonged. I learned their names. Switaar, a merchant and retired warrior, husband and father. Mesaari, an Aldori priestess, wife and mother. And the small one belonged to Tiaroos, a son, who was killed alongside his parents, before he reached the age of one year, as the blood elves burned down his home. What, however, I didn't find in there, was graves of two older sisters. As their names are of alien language, they escaped me...
But I do well remember that one left with Exodar, acompanying he husband to be, and the other stayed in Shattrath until year ago, when she left for Azeroth. The one that left with her fiance, I found some time later on in another messages. It was obvious that she was not searching for anyone, nor that she had a familly of her own. The sisters, therefore, do not know the other is alive.
This howl is for them, their parents and their brother. May the sisters find each other, and their deceased relatives peace with their Naaru.”
Ithariel waits for a moment, then lets out a slow, low howl.
And so they all howl.
Sarama stands up as the howl fades. “Another has howled. Is there anyone left who wish to howl?”
Sarama looks around the moonwell, yet no more has howls to share. “We have shared stories tonight. Like sisters and brothers in arms, we now know eachother better than before. Ready to fight our enemies.”
“An old Sentinel tradition. We share stories, of victory, battle or defeat. If you wish to join, go and leave your weapons further away. There will be no weapons, no fighting, and no lies at a Howl.
Leave the staff. no weapons at a Howl.”
People greet and put aside their weapons, outside the area where the howl takes place.
Fayena lets out a hacking cough into the back of her hand, wiping the specks of blood from her lips as she glances around at the various kaldorei and outsiders gathered. She is wounded, and bandaged with her arm in a sling.
Kaleina clentches her staff, as Mehtomiel looks at her. “It's not as a weapon, it's as leverage to stand back up in a moment.” She turns her head peering out from under her hood, she bows slightly at Sarama.
Mehtomiel continues. “This tradition is from the time of the Long Vigil. Tell a story, something about yourself. Victory, battle, defeat. It must be true, to lie at a Howl is shameful.
Sarama interrupts. ”Never liked that part. And especially not that part. Hard to tell interesting story where you are not allowed to add flavour.”
Others shake their heads dismissively.
“You called this one.” Mehtomiels says looking at Sarama. Sarama nods “So I did. Welcome all to this howl. For those of you who may not be familiar with how this works, it is very simple. Respect the others while they howl, don’t interrupt. If you have questions or like to express an opinion. Wait until the person has finished his or her howl.
Chit sits with her hands folded in her lap, listening. Other than that you cant mess up...much. So we are gathered, many wants to howl. Who wants to be the first?”
She says as she looks around at the gathered people. “Sveraes, do you want to begin?”
“I can, if no one else will” he replies. Sarama nods at Sveraes “You have the word.”
The story takes place hundreds of years ago, while I was still a young child. It was during the long vigil, but after the war of the shifting sands if you seek to place the moment in time. I was aspireing to become a druid. At that time a budding young. We were a few other youngsters in our little community at that time. I will tell the tale of two of them, brother Fairleaf and sister Nightgrove. It happens, and happened during the Long vigil as well. That some would find that they belonged together. While not, being mates or close to it, they were together. It was a burden at time I remember how my Shan'do wasn't pleased with Fairleaf not showing up at times. But as we filled into our respective places in society Nightgrove went on to join the sisterhood and all it involved, they weren't mates so, so it went. But fairleaf did not do well with his Druidism. Too much of a dreamer. He missed the lessons that a druid should serve the balance. Keep the river from running astray, not throw a rock in the stream. Perhaps the animal spirit he bonded with was too strong. But, at one point he decided that instead of dreaming, he would roam the wilds as a feral cat.
Yes, he decided to become a savagekin. Guided purely by his feral instinct.
It overcame him.
He perished for the community and we would not speak of him any more. And so, maybe a century went by. In those many years Nightgrove actually found a mate. One day the two of them were travelling in the wilds. I know not what happened, they were hunting, perhaps.Perhaps that was why. Or mayhaps there were a little shadow of his Kaldorei self left in Fairleaf, fuelled by feral instinctive rage and control. It matters not, but Nightgrove returned alone to the village. And that is the story, for one shall not speak of what came next. The howl is of defeat, of Fairleaf and Nightgrove.
What makes it yours? Mehtomiel asks. They were my friends at childhood as I said, sveraes quickly replies.
All the gathered howls, but Fayena who never really howls as she appears to be too much in pains to do so. When all are done howling Sarama stands up. “One has howled. Do anyone wish to ask Sveraes anything before the next one howl?”
Kaleina shakes her head, she moves to pull down her hood, shaking her silvery hair to rest over her shoulders, framing the grey flaking skin of her face and sunken eyes. She watches Sarama patiently.
Sarama looks at Sveraes. “I have heard about some...interesting methods on one of my druids. I can see that the topic might be close to you.
“One has howled, who will howl next?” She says looking around the moonwell again.
Kaleina rises up slightly: “I shall if you so wish it.”
Kaleina smiles kindly. She pauses for a moment gathering her thoughts, when she speaks her tone is tired and sad.
“My howl is one kept close for too long. More than a millennia has passed since the days.
I was fresh to the sisterhood. Keen to learn, to aid. The call came, the summoning of all to the sands of Silithus. I still remember the journey, the tales and broken stories that filtered from the front line. Nothing prepared us for the slaughter. I with my sisters were charged with the aid and recovery of the wounded and dying from the fields. Day blended into night there, hour after hour of blood and misery. Elune blessed many, many more were taken to her warm embrace. I remember as the weeks wore on, seeing the inevitability of it all, the realisation of the balance of all things. How cold I became. There were more wounded than there was time to save. The moment the haunts me - and always shall, was the day I held a young sentinel in my arms. I looked down at her, I could have saved her.... I could have, but the time it would have taken to save her... I could have saved so many more... I remember making the decision, her howls and pleads as I said what blessings I could, and left her on the sands.”
Kaleina trails off, she watches the waters swirl for a moment.
“My howl is one of balance, one of regret and shame, of the strength to make the decision that must be, at the end of all things.”
They all howl.
Kaleina opens her eyes and looks to Sarama, nodding once with thanks.
Sarama rises up. “An other has howled, and the night is still young. Any words to share before we hear the next howl?”
Chit comforts Kaleina “Not a question but I would like to honour all those who make the damn hard decisions that gotta be made, so others can live.”
And so does Murdokh “Ain't ever easy to make the hard choice, but it's usually the right one.”
“Thank you for kind words. The passing days of reflection do add voice to the doubt.” Kaleina replies as she smiles sadly at the speakers.
“Lot of elves died on those sands, you kept that number lower than it could have been. You did right. “Fayena chips in
Sarama looks around at the gathered again. “Fayena, I think I heard you try to make a sound before. Do you want to howl next?”
Fayena nods, and slowly rises to her feet, prying herself away from the nearby wood she was using as support, checks her balance, then breathes deeply before beginning “I have something i shall share. Yes.”
“I shall give my tale to one who isn't a Kaldorei. His name was Ramuul Highmountain, and he was one who had more than earned the right to call me sister. I had met Ramuul twice, and in his eyes, that was enough for me to be worth this life. The first time i met the Tauren, was during my recent battles around the Thousand Needles. The local tauren tribe had been betrayed by one of their own to the grimtotem, and it was our job to reclaim their home. It was strange, seeing water in that valley again after so many millennia. Stranger still to be standing alongside Tauren as well as sentinels. We were put in pairs, the twisting pathways and bridges not suited to more than that, and i was with Ramuul. I later found out he requested to stand with a Kaldorei, but at the time all he gave me was aloof and curt gestures, a service i paid in kind. It was a full day till he spoke, a crude version of our tongue, but once he did, we spoke frequently. Tauren are simple, true, but they are also honest. You earn ones trust, and you have it. They say only what they mean, and never what they do not to one at their side. Had I the choice, I would have them with us not alongside the butcherer. After fighting was finished, and the tauren had their home back, most kaldorei left, myself included. Hamuul lost an eye and his left horn, a price he said more than worth a home for this tribe, but also worth gaining a friend.”
“I did not see Hamuul again for some time, untill recently when i was back in my ashenvale. I was visiting the grave of Rhandralor, a child i had known who died many moons ago. I was unarmoured, carrying nothing but a hand axe, and they were not. There were five of them. A savage and four butcherers, two of which came at me frothing at the mouth. You can see what they did, before a guttural cry in the butcherer's tongue came from their hidden leader, a Tauren missing an eye and his left horn.”
Fayena gestures at her chest and sling as she talks about what they did, letting out a one sided smirk on the left side of her face.
“Ramuul walked slowly up to me, planted his spear butt firmly into the ground, and talked to me in my tongue, in the grunting way he always did. I will not tell you the words, they are for me and me alone, but due to him, I left breathing and alive. I stumbled my way back to Astranaar, got myself bandaged up and this broken arm in a splint, then slept. I was awoken by a warhorn. An orcish raiding party had stuck a banner outside Astranaar, with a message and a severed head upon it.
Fayena sighs, glancing around and speaking the next section slowly and with purpose
The head was a tauren, missing an eye and his left horn. Below the head, scrawled in blood, were the words "This is what we think of your traitor, cowards". Ramuul knew the price was his life when he ordered me let go, but he did it regardless.
So I howl for Hamuul. He may not have been Kaldorei, but he worth my grief unlike so many who were. I am proud that he called him sister with his final word to me, and were he here, i would name him brother back. People die, that is the way of this. This one, was more than worth remembering.”
Fayena leans her head back, struggles to take in a deep breath, and lets out a high sighing note, clenching her free hand into a fist as she does so.
They all Howl.
Sarama waits for the howl to fade out before standing up. “Alright, another has howled and there are many left. But before the next one howl, do anyone wish to share anything with Fayena?”
“I am sorry for your friend.” “I...you have my condolences, Sister. The Tauren should not be our enemies, and I count many among my friends.” “Honoured be the memory of friendship through difficult bonds.” The members of the howl reply in a mesh of words.
Fayena grunts acknowledgement of the comments, glancing up at the moon for a moment, before spitting some more blood out of her mouth
“I cant recall I howled for a tauren before, but that doesn’t make it any less right I guess.” Sarama nods. “So who wish to howl next?”
“Aye, sure, I've got one.” The human attendant Murdokh gets to his feet.
Sarama looks over at Murdokh and nods. “You have the word.”
Some of the elves take an extra look at the human, as he starts talking.
“Alright then, this is a tale, takes place in a little town trapped in the hills of Lordaeron. Weren't no plague on the ground back then. I remember the day, burning hot, you could get a dragon to sweat in that heat. Was around midday, and the sun was beating against the
town, I say town, wasn't more than a glorified trade post, really. The folk were about their business, out at market, trying to catch some shade, drinking from the dried up fountain. But it wasn't quite as alive as before. Times were folks would talk, and laugh... but that was before the Horde. Stormwind had already fallen by that point. Regardless. Guards got alerted by a sight on the road, figures riding horses... Don't envy the beasts, these figures were almost as big as the steeds themselves. Orcs, riding stolen mounts from another village. Now sure, there was only five of them, no more than the fingers on a man's hand. But them orcs were big. Guards at the gates didn't have more than a moment to sound the alarm before they fell. They started cutting their way through the place. Laughing and barking in their strange tongue. Their leaders was the biggest, ugliest brute you ever did see, eyes red like a demon's fire, and muscles that could break a giant's arm. They weren't there on no orders, they were having fun, rioting, pillaging. Those villagers that managed to get free cowered in their houses, shut the blinds, hoped their door wouldn't be the next to get knocked down. But this ruckus wasn't unnoticed.”
The listeners frown.
“Sound of beating hooves cut the sound of the orc's pillaging. A figure dropped from his horse, chainmail armor sparkling in the burning sun of high noon, and a bow strung across his back. The orcs paused, turning to him. He bowed his head, introduced himself as the Marshal of the town, like a gentleman. Now, that town weren't big enough for them orc boys. They had to move along. Runtiest among them charged forward, it's just another human to him. So the marshal whips out his bow, arrow in hand. And faster than lightning could hit a pig in a storm, the orc's got one between the eyes, crashing to the cobbles and coming to a halt.”
Some amongst the gathered makes a low grin.
“Of course, this gets the orcs riled, but weary. Clocktower strikes a bell, as the hour turns. Another orc's shot down, as the bell rings once more, another falls, then another... Soon, it's just the brute's leader and the marshal, staring down. He raises his weapon for another shot, but that orc's got the speed this time, charges forward, one swing of his axe cut that bow like lumber running through a sawmill. Aye, the marshal ain’t going to back down, though, sure, his foe's bigger. But he's lost guards, and villager who was under his care, makes him mad. Not mad enough to lose control, but mad enough to want them gone. Pulls a dagger from his boot, sure. I could go into detail about how they danced under that summer heat, blood spilling over the cracked floor. But y'all know how it must've ended. Those orcs were turfed out of that village. Now that's a lawman's job. I aint here 'howling' over this victory. But it's a statement, men don't ever give up in the face of a bigger foe. And I'd rather howl for the rest of them fine folks who lost their lives in the second war.
They all howl. Murdokh as well.
Sarama waits for the howl to fade out before standing up. “Anyone have something on the mind before we let the next one howl?”
“Nothing like a story of dead orcs.” Sveraes says with a smile on his face.
Dannelor looks up “If I may, I have a Howl to make.”
“You may speak.” Sarama replies and sits down.
Dannelor leans forward slightly, crossing his palms in his lap. He glances around at the moonwell.
“This is a story that I have not shared before, but I think...well. It is fitting to remember.
It was not so long ago, by my standards at least, that I was a novice druid, young and still fresh-faced. I was in Ashenvale, studying in Raynewood Retreat under a druid named Arendal Oakhide; A druid of the Claw. He was a great man, in many senses of the word, standing at least a head taller than any of the other druids at that particular tower, but even greater was his heart. He was a kind man, despite appearances, slow to anger, but by no means cowardly. He was teaching me of the Aspect of the bear so that I might further understand them, the ferocity and strength and the courage, and eventually, take their form. “
Dannelor casts a glance around the circle, shrugging lightly. He lowers his head, glancing into the waters.
My story proper starts when the greenskin Horde first invaded Ashenvale. They cut through our lands, burning and sawing at the ancient trees, and soon they came to Raynewood Tower. The Sentinels encamped there fought valiantly, but they were not at their strongest, their usual skill hindered by the numbers of the invading Horde and even the environment in which they were fighting. It did not take long for them to be overwhelmed.
Dannelor slowly shakes his head, before continuing.
“The remaining defenders retreated back to Raynewood Retreat to warn us of the invading orcs. The treants and the dryads were roused to defend their home, standing side by side with the Kaldorei, and the battle lines were drawn. I was...terrified, at best. The orcs had begun to advance up the hill towards the Retreat, but not without hindrance. I recall one of the Tauren came from the advancing mass, I could tell from his garb he was a Druid himself, and stood in front of the commanding orc.”
Dannelor glances at Fayena slightly as he speaks.
“What was said I do not know, but the noble tauren was struck down and the greenskinned horde continued to press on. I was stationed near the top of the tower, being but a novice, and I saw the entire battle play out. The lines clashed and many fell that day, orcs, Kaldorei and children of the forest alike, but the greatest loss of all was Arendal Oakhide.”
Fayena offers another of her grunts, glancing in Dannelors direction through the stone between then, frowning as she listens to Dannelors story”
“He was at the forefront of the battle, standing larger than even some of the invaders Kodo-beast mounts in his bear form, knocking aside line after line of orcs. Not one of the invading soldiers could defeat him and soon he had torn a hole in their attack
Many lives were saved because of his strength, courage, and steadfastness. It was the foul magic of an orcish Warlock that finally brought him down.”
Dannelor clenches his jaw, glancing around the circle of people, then off into the distance. A faint “no” can be heard.
“But the attack had been broken. The sentinels pushed back the lines of the Horde and the Retreat was ultimately saved. He taught me of courage and strength, be they Kaldorei or otherwise, and without him I may well not be here this day.”
Dannelor raises his gaze to the moon slightly.
“I howl for Arendal Oakhide, and all those lost that day, so that their sacrifice may not be forgotten, and their strength be with us all, for we will certainly need it.
Dannelor shows his teeth for a moment and begins to howl, sounding less lupine and more akin to the roar of a bear than anything else.”
They all howl.
“An other has howled.” Sarama gets to her feet.
“I think the strength of Arendal will haunt the orcs that escaped with their life that day for many years.”
“If noone else have anything to say, we might aswell move on to the next howl.”
Sarama looks around questioning. “Who is next to howl then?”
I suppose it's my turn... Rheen replies
Sarama nods at Rheen. “You have the word.”
Rheen nods in thanks “It's the story of how I became a thero'shan.”
Taldralos Skyreach, my Shan'do, tasked me to go and find some water for him in the forest. That was the sole task he gave me to test me. It seemed easy at the time. I searched for a while, it didn't seem long, when I heard some melody coming from the depths of the forest. I tried to follow it, and it led me to a small meadow with a pond, a cheerful dryad nearby. She was singing. The song went on something like this...”
Rheen tries her best to reenact the song. “The grass is growing, white waters flowing...”
“The leaves are swinging and the wisps are singing.”
“She was hopping around the water happily, I didn't know if I wanted to approach her. So I waited, hidden in a bush. I finally mustered the courage to go on, and she saw me, I think I even startled her a little.
I asked her why she was so happy, but she only laughed and hopped away into the forest. So I ran after her. I couldn't find her, even though she was still singing. This time the song was just mocking me.“
Rheen sings again.
“Look down here, around the tree...”
“Look behind it, can't see me!”
“I gave up and went back to the pond, and she was there waiting for me. I asked her again why she was so happy, and she sung something about... umh... can't remember... Anyway, I asked her if I could have some of the water. She replied again with a song, this one I remember!”
And so Rheen sings again.
“There is magic in this pond, that's why of it I'm so fond...
“You may drink, don't drain, don’t boil and don't spoil.”
“Enjoy this blessed pool, but abuse it not if a fool you are not.”
“I wasn't really thirsty, and I only wanted to bring water back to my future Shan'do. I approached with a waterskin and the dryad wiggled her finger, then sung something about it being forbidden to touch the waters with anything that's not alive. I wondered for a long time how I should bring some water back to my Shan'do. I tried carrying some in my hands, but it spilled before I could even leave the meadow. I tried using a leaf to carry it, but I wasn't successful even then.”
The audience grins slightly.
“I kept trying for the whole day until I was very hungry - at least I wasn't thirsty, there was plenty to drink, and it tasted like water, but then again, I don't know what magical water tastes like. I couldn't think of any way to bring some of the water back, so I returned empty-handed and admitted that I couldn't do it. I was ready to be rejected, knowing my Shan'do would probably find a better student. But he only smiled and praised me for admitting my failure. He told me he was glad I was so eager to become a druid, and yet I was so humble. So... that's how I became his student. And I howl for him, because I lost him when he was summoned to Hyjal last summer, to battle the fire elementals, and I am still waiting to see him again. I hope he is alright.”
They all howl, but Murdokh who apparently got tiered of howling.
Sarama gets on her feet. “An other has howled. A few still remain. Any words about the last howl before we listen to the next? I have the feeling that perhaps what you experienced, was a test all along.”.
Rheen shrugs “I didn't know what the test was...”
Sarama looks around the well “Who wish to howl next?” Isance tentatively raises a claw
Sarama nods at Isance. “Very well Isance. You go ahead.”
Isance clears her voice “Mine is a short tale, maybe even a trivial tale.” Being a Worgen, Isance speaks with a rough and with rolling R's. Still she tries to keep her voice light and bouncy, like telling a fairy tale to children.
“There was a young girl once, across the sea, living in a land that despised the magic of shadows. They called it vile and foul and voracious. No one can use the magic of the place between light and darkness. Not without going insane. So the girl hid her magic and tried not to think about it. Tried not to think of how she could help people. For if she looked really, really hard, she found she could see the worries of others in the way they tried to look like nothing was wrong”
Isance lowers her voice a little, to a conspirators mock-whisper, like revealing a deep secret
“It is such a little thing, such a little talent, hardly worth of note. And the little girl wanted to help sooo much. So she did it, first in secret, when she was surre no one was about. Later, as she got used to the thrill and the delight of helping others, in larger groups. But still careful to not draw attention attention to herself.”
Isance grins a little and winks at Kaleina
“Yet there was Jessica, a girl who was much loved by the teachers for her skill in the right kind of magic. She was lovely, kind, gentle, pure and thus, the most popular girl at the abbey. She was also quite sharp, and she noticed little things about the little girl. So Jessica asked the little girl. She knew better then to tell her, so she lied and said nothing was the matter. Did I say Jessica was smart? She did not believe the little girl. And kept a good eye on her, using her friends as extra eyes. And so they found that they got ‘cold tingles’ whenever the little girl ‘looked.’ A while later they talked and wondered what this meant, Jessica was the one that decided They would corner the little girl and force the truth out of her.
Isance `s voice turns darker and lower, trying to evoke an atmosphere of menace
“They did.”
Isance let`s that word hang in the air for a while
“Don`t for a moment think little children can not be mean... Orr sadistic. The little girl told them everything. But not under duress, no Jessica was really smart. She let the others be rough and nasty. Then Jessica swooped in to save the day. By this offer of kindness, false kindness, the little girl told them of her gift”
Isance `s voice turns light and hopeful, she opens her eyes wide and looks at the kaldorei imploringly
“Jessica had prromised to ‘take carre’ of herr, so all would be allrright, yes?”
Chit shakes her head.
Isance heaves a great sigh and speaks reluctantly
Alas, Jessica was terrified of the little girls loathsome magic. She told the Master of the Abbey. He turned to the little girl and… and…
Isance grimaces and her voice draws out more and more, as though dragging her heels.
“Well, he believed the little girrl was a sinnerr… and sinnerrs must rrepent… And if they don`t, they must be punished until they do.”
Isance pauses there dramatically.
[Isance] Now, even as storyteller I can not say if this was a defeat or a victory. The little girl lost a lot that day, respect, the desire to help others, maybe even honesty, but most assuredly her innocence. What she gained was pitifully little...
Isance `s voice turns cold and hard, and strangely relieved
“Just the cold, hard truth. And a strange friend, whom she called Raven, maybe I will tell more about him next time …Anyway… I howl for the little girl that vanished that day. I howl for all those that are judged wrongly. I howl for those that are judged merely on what they can not help but be borne with!”
Isance takes a deep, deep breath and let`s out a howl that starts deceptively soft, then starts to reverberate stronger and stronger, until the very air is filled with a sad, but relieved howl
They all howl.
Sarama stands up as the howls fade out. “Believe it or not, but I can recognise myself somewhat in that. Another has howled and we still have a couple left. If you want to share your thoughts with Isance, do it now before the next one howl.”
“Oh... I believe you Sarama, I just wonder what part was so recognisable” Isance replies.
Sarama continues “Another will howl, if no one objects I don’t mind to do it.”
Fayena tisks again and several looks at her. “Did you say something?” Sarama asks “I did not say a word.” Fayena puts the stress, although gently, upon say.
Sveraes looks up at Sarama “I think we are only missing you now.” Sarama nods at Fayena, and then shakes her head at Sveraes. “There are still others. But I will howl now.”
And so, Sarama begins her howl.
“I was sent on a mission. I wanted to go alone, but the voices upstairs insisted it was a two man job. I wouldnt have minded that much, even if I thought it was a waste of resources. But as it turns out, they coupled me together with a young and very green sentinel. They wanted her with on the mission because she had some special expertise.”
Sarama waves her hand dismissively.
“I don’t even remember what that was. All I remember was how something that could have been easy, became very annoying. There was a pirate crew who was very successful outside our coast. Our mission was to go there and chop of the head of the snake. They had the sea control, so we had to go by land through a very dense forest. A forest booby trapped by the very same pirates. Anyway, I think I had to save that sentinel from killing herself in about every damn one of those traps. Probably a few times from breaking her neck stumbling on roots as well. And whining, endless whining. There was times I considered to just finish what the traps otherwise would. It would have been easy enough to tell people she fell in a trap. But I tried to focus on the task at hand and kept holding that sentinel's hand. The first attempt on the pirate captain failed because she revealed our position and we barely managed to get away with our heads intact. We regrouped and disagreed on how we would continue. She insisted the mission was over as they knew we were in the forest. It wouldnt be possible to get close to the captain again. I kept explaining that the mission wasnt over. Our target wasnt dead. We couldnt agree and split up, she headed back home and I would make an other attempt at the captains life.
I thought everything was clear, but I had underestimated them. They were waiting, and I got caught.
There was the standard getting caught procedure, where I for once don’t feel like talking and they don’t want me to do anything else.They pretty soon realised that I wouldn’t talk, and I was looking death in the eye. When I caught the young sentinel in the corner of my eye.
Everything went very fast from there, but the sentinel manage to catch the captain by suprise and quickly kill him, then rescue me. It turned out that she had changed her mind, and caught up to me just as I was captured. She had then paitently waited for the right moment to strike. I owe her my life. I howl for Azaianna Moonmist, may her enemies fall swiftly or her spirit be honoured.
They all howl.
Sarama looks around the moonwell. “Another has howled. Almost all have howled, but I think a some has still remained silent. Do anyone wish to howl? Noone?”
Ithariel stands up “I wish to.”
Sarama nods at Ithariel “You may speak.”
Ithariel nods slightly.
“My name is Ithariel Springbreeze. Some of you know me, others don't. What is important for this howl is that I, as a druid, am a messenger.”
“I deliver what I am told, and as such, I sometimes hear messages of others. Some time ago, such a message had me go to Shattrath, in Terokkar forest. Unlike other missions, I had some time to wander off into the forest. There, I found a place where once, obviously stood a house, and next to it were remains of a small orchard. Nature already took what remained, as is the order of things. What nature didn't touch, however, were three graves. Two of an adult size, and one very small. All three of the graves had stones with writing I couldn't read, but they were names, written in Draenei script. As my curiosity got the best of me, I returned to Shattrath, and inquired with the Aldor about to whom those graves belonged. I learned their names. Switaar, a merchant and retired warrior, husband and father. Mesaari, an Aldori priestess, wife and mother. And the small one belonged to Tiaroos, a son, who was killed alongside his parents, before he reached the age of one year, as the blood elves burned down his home. What, however, I didn't find in there, was graves of two older sisters. As their names are of alien language, they escaped me...
But I do well remember that one left with Exodar, acompanying he husband to be, and the other stayed in Shattrath until year ago, when she left for Azeroth. The one that left with her fiance, I found some time later on in another messages. It was obvious that she was not searching for anyone, nor that she had a familly of her own. The sisters, therefore, do not know the other is alive.
This howl is for them, their parents and their brother. May the sisters find each other, and their deceased relatives peace with their Naaru.”
Ithariel waits for a moment, then lets out a slow, low howl.
And so they all howl.
Sarama stands up as the howl fades. “Another has howled. Is there anyone left who wish to howl?”
Sarama looks around the moonwell, yet no more has howls to share. “We have shared stories tonight. Like sisters and brothers in arms, we now know eachother better than before. Ready to fight our enemies.”