Post by Trehmar on Nov 20, 2010 13:50:55 GMT -5
Wolves howled their whining cries to the ash-infested night sky of the ruins of Orgrimmar, crying infants joined their voices in mourning of the great city's demise at the hands of the unleashed elementals and Windchanter of the Banepaw found himself resting with his back against a charred boulder, too tired to join in the weeping of the thousands of broken civilians and warriors but feeling their cries, heavily within his chest. The tauren healer, not quite a decade beyond his Rite of Adulthood, felt as old and battered as the stone he rested against. His right hoof was blackened and the flesh above it boiled, the fur burned away. The tuft of hair at the end of his tail floated as ash in the sky, among all the other ashes. The thought might have given him comfort, that his spirit danced in the sky along with the spirits of so many others were he able to feel anything but weariness.
Rhythmic pounding of steel and hissing of forges echoed louder even than the wolves as the goblins, orcs, tauren, trolls and even Forsaken and sin'dorei worked away at rebuilding the city. Like a serpent Orgrimmar had shed its skin and now regrew it, stronger, sleeker than before. Several of the new buildings were already near completion, their spiked walls snarling at the foes of the Horde and warning off intruders.
So much for the 'refuge of survivors', Windchanter thought, recalling what he had once been told about Orgrimmar. All things change...
The wounded and tired bull's eyes crawled down his face, closing off all but the sounds of the pounding upon anvils and off-key dirge to the ruined city. His ears rested on their sides and his tail hung limply behind him as his thoughts wandered from tasks to complete and misgivings about the future into simpler things... memories of riding the kodo of Khaadgrim's caravans, thoughts on the differences of Durotar soil and Stonetalon soil, musings of senseless things... In time the pounding of the anvils lost any meaning or stigma attached to them, and became nothing more than part of the resting tauren's breathing.
When Windchanter opened his eyes he knew immediately that this was no normal dream. He sat exactly as he had upon falling asleep but his environment was radically different; the same place, but different. Around him were no buildings or scattered bodies, but fishes and fast-flowing water. Windchanter realized he was under the water and swam to the surface, unconcerned about drowning in such a state.
Upon breaking the surface his concord with this new environment was legitimized. Crawling up a slight cliff to the rise above Orgrimmar, Windchanter looked down on a verdant river valley. Red soil was dark and rich, feeding a great variety of yellowish plants. Creatures of all sorts and stripes fed at the gates of the city, where the valley was low enough that they could reach the raging river. In the distance the ocean pounded against the rocky beach, the horizon above it tinted a foggy green.
In this, the Emerald Dream, Orgrimmar was nothing but a deep river valley. No buildings or orcs populated it, only beasts and flora. Suddenly, the worries of the waking world were lost upon Windchanter. He reached his arms out to shift into a bird and fly the verdant world in peace.
Just before the change took hold of him, the druid noticed a particular creature staring directly at him from across the chasm from which he had crawled. In mere seconds Windchanter shifted into the form of a great buzzard, swooped across the chasm and returned to his birth form before the feather-adorned raptor. The creature nodded its long head at the tauren.
"Telhak the Endless has called you here to meet, Windchanter of the Banepaw," the raptor said in a screeching voice. He nodded at the raptor, but had no words. Telhak the Endless was the alpha raptor of the Banepaw. For generations more than any mortal had walked Azeroth, a pack of raptors living deep in the barrens had worked alongside the Banepaw Tribe. They were valuable allies and Windchanter did not wish to insult the cold blooded beings. When the raptor began rushing towards the Banepaw Raptor Grounds, Windchanter did not hesitate to shift into the form of a reptilian and follow.
Time passed unusually quickly for the young druid in some ways, yet slowed to a crawl in others. He found himself having the time to examine each branch, every extinct creature and gaze upon the green sky all he wanted as the raptor lead him over the Southfury River and into the Dream's equivalent of the barrens. Yet, despite every moment becoming a novel of information and beauty, Windchanter found himself wondering how he had gotten to the entrance of the raptor's glade so quickly. Looking back, he felt as if it had taken mere seconds, like the inspection he had found himself lost in (seemingly for hours) had not taken place at all.
Shifting into his tauren form to present himself, Windchanter took a knee outside of the nook the raptors called home. Even in the real world barrens this place was lush and shady. Here in the Dream it was a virtual fortress of towering trees and jagged surrounding hills. Yet even the intimidating scenery could not match the unrestrained, primal threat of Telhak the Endless. The great raptor was easily four times Windchanter's size. It exited the trees, claws tearing away at the moss-covered ground as it approached the tiny tauren. Its body was tattooed and decorated in symbols and skulls. Upon its teeth, horns and claws were brightly glowing runes. Its eyes were pinpricks upon its elongated face, teeming with intelligence and uncaring calculations. Its tiny patron, the druid Windchanter, trembled in fear as it lowered its face to meet his.
There is something you must see, brother. Telhak's voice echoed deeply around the area, sending birds and small mammals fleeing. Windchanter wanted to join them, so suddenly was he caught up in the natural fear of the great predator. Were he not in his mortal form, he would have taken to his instinct and fled to the deepest hole in the Dream.
The future is grim. We feel the world's struggle even here, in the depth of its most primal soul, said the beast. You have promised to rebuild the Banepaw Tribe. But there is nothing a single tribe can do to stop the maelstrom from churning.
Unsure what the great spirit meant, and too fearful to ask, Windchanter only nodded.
Come, you must speak with the tree. Telhak turned at its full height and walked between the two guardian trees into the glade of the raptors. Not daring to pause, Windchanter jumped to his hooves and rushed after the massive creature. By the time he broke through the brush into the nesting area Telhak was at the top of a small hill overlooking the entire glade. When Windchanter caught up, he saw which tree the alpha raptor meant.
According to legend, the tree Windchanter stood before began growing when the progenitor and first chieftain of the tribe met with Telhak the Endless and forged the alliance which stood to the day the Kolkar slaughtered the tribe, fifty-six years ago. Though Windchanter had never seen it in the real world, he had always known it existed. The proof now rested before his eyes, a massive oak tree bearing long, red fruits with bulbs on the ends.
The tree shifted, as a tauren would upon and uncomfortable seat. It leaned forward, as if eying Windchanter. When it spoke, its voice was strong and old, I am Kgragassil. Your people knew me as the Spirit Tree. I was your patron spirit, your life-giver, the green guide to your shaman.
Windchanter bowed, though he did not know if the tree could see him. His voice sounded weak and shaky compared to the great tree, "I am honored, blessed by your presence, Might Kgragassil. I have been told stories of your greatness since I was a calf."
I should hope so, young druid. It is I who blessed your path to draw you to Moonglade. It is I who guided the wanderer who found your mother giving birth before she passed to the soil. It is I, young Windchanter, who bore the fruit which your father planted in the womb of your mother.
"The legend is true..."
The legend was old and highly important to the lore of the Banepaw Tribe. For centuries (maybe longer) the tales of the Spirit Tree had been told and retold. The tree, Kgragassil, gave birth to spirits in the form of fruits. These fruits were plucked from its limbs by the spirits of the males of the tribe, in their sleep. The males then fed the fruits to their wives, allowing the spirit to be nurtured and born in a tauren body. All Banepaw Shu'halo came from this tree. Windchanter, Elder Karonak, the famous Chief Plainstrider... all were born from the same tree.
Standing next to the tree was the wispy form of a middle aged tauren clad in leathers and beautiful bones, jewels and ceremonial weapons. The brown furred male held a newborn calf in his arms. He was looking down at the tiny creature and smiling warmly at it.
It has been long since one such as this warrior before you has harvested my fruits. They fall to the soil, untouched by holy hands. The tree's statement shocked Windchanter.
He blurted, "Are the souls dying?! What has been happening to them?"
The calming tone of the tree spirit instantly sated Windchanter's anxiety, No soul dies in such a way, my child. When my fruits are not rested in the womb of a female tauren, they find another. The Earth Mother's embrace is stronger than any others, even now. For over fifty turns of the Mother's celestial body my children have been born as spirits of nature and raptors. These fruits do not go to waste.
Amazed and overwhelmed by information, Windchanter merely shook his head.
But that is not why you are here, Chanter to the Winds, The tree began, leaning back somewhat. There was a time when the spirits honored by the Banepaw were powerful and numerous. The tribe worshiped an army of great beings such as myself, an army that would aid them when they needed it most.
Soon, you will require the aid of such spirits.
A fist grabbed at Windchanter's throat and twisted it, pulling it down into his gut. The Twilight Cultists were right, something horrible was going to happen.
You must gather your spiritual allies, young leader, as well as the physical. You are to fight the corruption and restore balance! Life CANNOT go on if balance is not RESTORED, Windchanter!
The spirit's cries sounded more like pleading than a request. Frantic due to its tone Windchanter cried out, "What must I do, Great Kgragassil?!"
In the distant mountains of Hyjal I have a brother, Adfarhu. He has never allied with mortals but will be a great boon to your mission if you can persuade him to join you.
Windchanter stepped forward, nodding rapidly and sounding as if begging, "Yes, yes Great One. I will find Adfarhu. The elder can persuade him. We will protect the balance!"
The tree's 'voice' suddenly slowed, returning to its methodical strength, It will not be so easy, young one... enemies of the Earth Mother have captured my brother. They intended to twist and corrupt him, to turn him into an agent of their will. You cannot allow this to happen.
The Twilight Cultists...in Hyjal? Windchanter was horrified.
Adfarhu will serve as the fire of your tribe. With his aid you will have the influence needed to convince the spirits of fire to fight against the corrupted elements. There are many other spirits who's patronage you require, young leader. I will call you to Mount Hyjal when it is time. For now, gather yourselves and prepare to meet the twisted darkness horn-to-horn. You will need much help.
As if yanked backward, Windchater awoke. He saw the entire distance from the Raptor Grounds back to his resting place flash before him in an instant, every detail perfectly preserved in his mind. Gasping for breath as if still under the raging river through Orgrimmar's reflection, the tauren sat up and clutched his chest...
"Adfarhu... The fruits of the spirit..."
Rhythmic pounding of steel and hissing of forges echoed louder even than the wolves as the goblins, orcs, tauren, trolls and even Forsaken and sin'dorei worked away at rebuilding the city. Like a serpent Orgrimmar had shed its skin and now regrew it, stronger, sleeker than before. Several of the new buildings were already near completion, their spiked walls snarling at the foes of the Horde and warning off intruders.
So much for the 'refuge of survivors', Windchanter thought, recalling what he had once been told about Orgrimmar. All things change...
The wounded and tired bull's eyes crawled down his face, closing off all but the sounds of the pounding upon anvils and off-key dirge to the ruined city. His ears rested on their sides and his tail hung limply behind him as his thoughts wandered from tasks to complete and misgivings about the future into simpler things... memories of riding the kodo of Khaadgrim's caravans, thoughts on the differences of Durotar soil and Stonetalon soil, musings of senseless things... In time the pounding of the anvils lost any meaning or stigma attached to them, and became nothing more than part of the resting tauren's breathing.
When Windchanter opened his eyes he knew immediately that this was no normal dream. He sat exactly as he had upon falling asleep but his environment was radically different; the same place, but different. Around him were no buildings or scattered bodies, but fishes and fast-flowing water. Windchanter realized he was under the water and swam to the surface, unconcerned about drowning in such a state.
Upon breaking the surface his concord with this new environment was legitimized. Crawling up a slight cliff to the rise above Orgrimmar, Windchanter looked down on a verdant river valley. Red soil was dark and rich, feeding a great variety of yellowish plants. Creatures of all sorts and stripes fed at the gates of the city, where the valley was low enough that they could reach the raging river. In the distance the ocean pounded against the rocky beach, the horizon above it tinted a foggy green.
In this, the Emerald Dream, Orgrimmar was nothing but a deep river valley. No buildings or orcs populated it, only beasts and flora. Suddenly, the worries of the waking world were lost upon Windchanter. He reached his arms out to shift into a bird and fly the verdant world in peace.
Just before the change took hold of him, the druid noticed a particular creature staring directly at him from across the chasm from which he had crawled. In mere seconds Windchanter shifted into the form of a great buzzard, swooped across the chasm and returned to his birth form before the feather-adorned raptor. The creature nodded its long head at the tauren.
"Telhak the Endless has called you here to meet, Windchanter of the Banepaw," the raptor said in a screeching voice. He nodded at the raptor, but had no words. Telhak the Endless was the alpha raptor of the Banepaw. For generations more than any mortal had walked Azeroth, a pack of raptors living deep in the barrens had worked alongside the Banepaw Tribe. They were valuable allies and Windchanter did not wish to insult the cold blooded beings. When the raptor began rushing towards the Banepaw Raptor Grounds, Windchanter did not hesitate to shift into the form of a reptilian and follow.
Time passed unusually quickly for the young druid in some ways, yet slowed to a crawl in others. He found himself having the time to examine each branch, every extinct creature and gaze upon the green sky all he wanted as the raptor lead him over the Southfury River and into the Dream's equivalent of the barrens. Yet, despite every moment becoming a novel of information and beauty, Windchanter found himself wondering how he had gotten to the entrance of the raptor's glade so quickly. Looking back, he felt as if it had taken mere seconds, like the inspection he had found himself lost in (seemingly for hours) had not taken place at all.
Shifting into his tauren form to present himself, Windchanter took a knee outside of the nook the raptors called home. Even in the real world barrens this place was lush and shady. Here in the Dream it was a virtual fortress of towering trees and jagged surrounding hills. Yet even the intimidating scenery could not match the unrestrained, primal threat of Telhak the Endless. The great raptor was easily four times Windchanter's size. It exited the trees, claws tearing away at the moss-covered ground as it approached the tiny tauren. Its body was tattooed and decorated in symbols and skulls. Upon its teeth, horns and claws were brightly glowing runes. Its eyes were pinpricks upon its elongated face, teeming with intelligence and uncaring calculations. Its tiny patron, the druid Windchanter, trembled in fear as it lowered its face to meet his.
There is something you must see, brother. Telhak's voice echoed deeply around the area, sending birds and small mammals fleeing. Windchanter wanted to join them, so suddenly was he caught up in the natural fear of the great predator. Were he not in his mortal form, he would have taken to his instinct and fled to the deepest hole in the Dream.
The future is grim. We feel the world's struggle even here, in the depth of its most primal soul, said the beast. You have promised to rebuild the Banepaw Tribe. But there is nothing a single tribe can do to stop the maelstrom from churning.
Unsure what the great spirit meant, and too fearful to ask, Windchanter only nodded.
Come, you must speak with the tree. Telhak turned at its full height and walked between the two guardian trees into the glade of the raptors. Not daring to pause, Windchanter jumped to his hooves and rushed after the massive creature. By the time he broke through the brush into the nesting area Telhak was at the top of a small hill overlooking the entire glade. When Windchanter caught up, he saw which tree the alpha raptor meant.
According to legend, the tree Windchanter stood before began growing when the progenitor and first chieftain of the tribe met with Telhak the Endless and forged the alliance which stood to the day the Kolkar slaughtered the tribe, fifty-six years ago. Though Windchanter had never seen it in the real world, he had always known it existed. The proof now rested before his eyes, a massive oak tree bearing long, red fruits with bulbs on the ends.
The tree shifted, as a tauren would upon and uncomfortable seat. It leaned forward, as if eying Windchanter. When it spoke, its voice was strong and old, I am Kgragassil. Your people knew me as the Spirit Tree. I was your patron spirit, your life-giver, the green guide to your shaman.
Windchanter bowed, though he did not know if the tree could see him. His voice sounded weak and shaky compared to the great tree, "I am honored, blessed by your presence, Might Kgragassil. I have been told stories of your greatness since I was a calf."
I should hope so, young druid. It is I who blessed your path to draw you to Moonglade. It is I who guided the wanderer who found your mother giving birth before she passed to the soil. It is I, young Windchanter, who bore the fruit which your father planted in the womb of your mother.
"The legend is true..."
The legend was old and highly important to the lore of the Banepaw Tribe. For centuries (maybe longer) the tales of the Spirit Tree had been told and retold. The tree, Kgragassil, gave birth to spirits in the form of fruits. These fruits were plucked from its limbs by the spirits of the males of the tribe, in their sleep. The males then fed the fruits to their wives, allowing the spirit to be nurtured and born in a tauren body. All Banepaw Shu'halo came from this tree. Windchanter, Elder Karonak, the famous Chief Plainstrider... all were born from the same tree.
Standing next to the tree was the wispy form of a middle aged tauren clad in leathers and beautiful bones, jewels and ceremonial weapons. The brown furred male held a newborn calf in his arms. He was looking down at the tiny creature and smiling warmly at it.
It has been long since one such as this warrior before you has harvested my fruits. They fall to the soil, untouched by holy hands. The tree's statement shocked Windchanter.
He blurted, "Are the souls dying?! What has been happening to them?"
The calming tone of the tree spirit instantly sated Windchanter's anxiety, No soul dies in such a way, my child. When my fruits are not rested in the womb of a female tauren, they find another. The Earth Mother's embrace is stronger than any others, even now. For over fifty turns of the Mother's celestial body my children have been born as spirits of nature and raptors. These fruits do not go to waste.
Amazed and overwhelmed by information, Windchanter merely shook his head.
But that is not why you are here, Chanter to the Winds, The tree began, leaning back somewhat. There was a time when the spirits honored by the Banepaw were powerful and numerous. The tribe worshiped an army of great beings such as myself, an army that would aid them when they needed it most.
Soon, you will require the aid of such spirits.
A fist grabbed at Windchanter's throat and twisted it, pulling it down into his gut. The Twilight Cultists were right, something horrible was going to happen.
You must gather your spiritual allies, young leader, as well as the physical. You are to fight the corruption and restore balance! Life CANNOT go on if balance is not RESTORED, Windchanter!
The spirit's cries sounded more like pleading than a request. Frantic due to its tone Windchanter cried out, "What must I do, Great Kgragassil?!"
In the distant mountains of Hyjal I have a brother, Adfarhu. He has never allied with mortals but will be a great boon to your mission if you can persuade him to join you.
Windchanter stepped forward, nodding rapidly and sounding as if begging, "Yes, yes Great One. I will find Adfarhu. The elder can persuade him. We will protect the balance!"
The tree's 'voice' suddenly slowed, returning to its methodical strength, It will not be so easy, young one... enemies of the Earth Mother have captured my brother. They intended to twist and corrupt him, to turn him into an agent of their will. You cannot allow this to happen.
The Twilight Cultists...in Hyjal? Windchanter was horrified.
Adfarhu will serve as the fire of your tribe. With his aid you will have the influence needed to convince the spirits of fire to fight against the corrupted elements. There are many other spirits who's patronage you require, young leader. I will call you to Mount Hyjal when it is time. For now, gather yourselves and prepare to meet the twisted darkness horn-to-horn. You will need much help.
As if yanked backward, Windchater awoke. He saw the entire distance from the Raptor Grounds back to his resting place flash before him in an instant, every detail perfectly preserved in his mind. Gasping for breath as if still under the raging river through Orgrimmar's reflection, the tauren sat up and clutched his chest...
"Adfarhu... The fruits of the spirit..."