Following a pitched battle involving slaves to the powers of the void, and a twilight drake commanded by the void infused Kaldorei called “Invaria”, the Temple of Isildien stands scared from conflict. dark burns mark the stonework at the entrance and the stairwell leading to the great temple.
Most notably however, the state of the Moonwell inside. it has been defiled, an attempt to corrupt it and use it as the vessel of sacrifice thankfully being prevented, but not before the waters had been fouled.
For those that know the temple’s defenders and the steward himself, this will no doubt change soon.
Melileron Coldgazer’s legs ached, lactic acid coursed through his burning muscles as he continued to run, not wanting to stop, not wanting to turn back. Others were with him, fleeing from the camp that had fallen into chaos. He had promised a human woman he would see her to safety, get her away. Something dark grasped her as she ran, she had collapsed to the ground with a terrified scream. He didn’t have the courage to stop and aid her.
Once word started to spread that Invaria had been destroyed, it didn’t take long for the thralls that kept order to be overcome by the sheer mass of unwilling supplicants as they tried to make their escape. Fights erupted, but it soon became clear that the thralls had the power as bodies were cast to the ground in burning balls of void fire.
Melileron stumbled out onto one of the roads in Feralas, crashing against a tree and slumping to the ground as he grasped his chest, struggling for breath.
Words came to him, Darnassian words in a cruel tone, he looked up to see three mounted Sentinels baring down on him, two with arrows drawn already as the other held her glaive ready to strike.
“Please-” he wheezed, reaching a hand out in desperation.
“I said, state your business…”
Melileron looked up at them, his body ached and his vision started to blur, he had no idea if he had found salvation, or a new form of damnation. he wanted to tell them what happened, lead them back to where he had been held but he drew a blank. the memories were stolen from him.
Over the next few days, random people will appear in the wilds with no idea what they are doing or why they are here. some will probably try and head home or get to the nearest safe city. all of them, however, will reek of Void.
A Warden, going by the name The Iron Glaive, has arrived in Feralas, aiding the efforts. She’s clad in Warden Armour albeit Darker, and armed with various weapons. She may seem somewhat familiar.
A dead Tauren druid lies atop a pillar in Thousand Needles. The head is missing. The Kaldorei runes for Vengeance and Justice have been carved in the rocky ground beside the body.
Following the celebrations of the weekend, the great ceremony of Jurina’tore, Feralas as a whole seems to be in high spirits. flowers bloom brighter, rivers run cooler in the midday heat and the humidity that can sometimes be stifling has been eased away by a gentle breeze that dances through the treetops. the energy of the land seems more positive, druids, shamans, priestesses and monks alike would no doubt feel such and may even ease them into better moods.
Drakes screeches have been heard within Stonetalon and sightings later that night of it flying north in the region, clutching eggs in it talons and surrounded by Whelplings.
The spreading of the charred vale has ceased for the present and the element of fire in the region seems somewhat calmed.
A group of Shu’halo, Kaldorei and a single Sin’dorei have been sighted walking back to Sun Rock Retreat, seeming rather battered and bruised (well, most of them, the Sin’dorei doesn’t have a hair out of place!).
A trolls headless body would be found near the burned out remains of a hut in the hills south of Desolation Hold in the Southern Barrens. Carved into the ground beside the body would be the Kaldorei runes for Vengeance and Justice.
A charred pile of intact saronite armour and ash, alongside some ectoplasm not far away, are all that remains of Salyrias Bloodstar atop Dreadmist Peak. The Sin’dorei death knight, noted for her brutal and bloody service in the Fourth War, has seemingly been killed after a brutal fight. Whilst no evidence remains as to who killed her, the killings over the last two days marked by Kaldorei runes suggest that a unknown band of Night Elves is likely behind this as well…
Seer Axefang whom was in a coma since Grizzly Hills, had his body being in Orgrimmar barracks on a hammock. Since today, he’s been seen in Orgrimmar again, awakened and alive.
The Moonlight shun within the moonwell once more, the vibrant life affirming energy that had once been stolen away had been returned to Isildien. The night before, the combined efforts of Priestesses, a Druid and an Arcanist drove their power into the waters, Hedris himself sharing his own energy to those gathered to keep them strong, to embolden their hearts and strengthen their backs.
The plantlife that once wilted from the void corruption the water had been subjected too, stood tall once more, flowers blooming in vibrant colours as the gentle glow of moonlight danced across their flesh.
Rumour has it that there is a group of ex-Horde who worship the Old Gods causing trouble within the lands of Feralas. Recently it has been told that they were spotted near the Ruins of Isildien, the growls of a Druid fending them off could be heard for anyone who was in the area, later the clashing of weapons again armour and the smells of Void magic would be palpable in the Ruins, including the areas around them.
For those with a better memory than most might also note that this is the same group who has been coming to Feralas this month, mentioning about how they wanted new minions, however, no one has gone missing just yet.
Karthaerel after bouncing into a sermon of some sorts yesterday which was by the Moonwell of the Stronghold. She was keen to find out information about the Altar of Twilight, especially after Laurana’s request of information and warning of what they would do. During the later hours of yesterday night and early hours of the morning, a Druid in their Owl form was seen looking around the Stronghold for a certain Demon Hunter who had acquired information recently.
Over the last few days, violence has been erupting across Desolace, which would seem like the usual cycle of Centaur uprising would suddenly be shattered by the scent of sulfar and fel on the air.
A combined offensive of both Horde and Alliance races came together and did battle to aid the assailed Magram and Gelkis from the oppressive advance of the Maurdon Centaur.
Back in Isildien, Hedris and Suraia added the well water from Desolace to the greater well in the heart of the temple. as the pair watched with held breaths, the water of the well resonated and increased in power once again, its bonds with the leylines growing stronger after Invaria’s despoiling.
Fearing possible repercussions from the void addled Kaldorei, protective wards around the well buzz with life. while Invaria had been destroyed, she was no stranger to resurrection. some dark design that had yet to be discovered- the risk of her coming back again was a clear and present one. The allies of Isildien would not let the well be despoiled again.
A letter signed by Dialythe Whitewood circulates in Night Elf and neutral settlements across Kalimdor and, inevitably, Horde settlements also.
Battle has found its way to the realm of Feralas once more. A warband of Orcs has invaded the jungle, laying the blame of dead farmers thoughtlessly at our feet, and in their mad dash for bloodlust and pride they threatened to burn the entirety of the forest down. Using the fury of the elements no less! Be vigilant on the high road and report any Orcish movements to the Veil of the Eclipse.
In a similar vein, copies of another letter are sent to the Tauren camps of Feralas, again signed Dialythe Whitewood:
Shu’halo, you are once again reminded that you will not be permitted to shelter warriors who come to make war upon us freely. Give no shelter to the Orcs.
All you need to know is that Zer is cool. /flex
Tonight the trees speak Bleeding Hollow!
Your name is gross, but your cause is true.
You know it, babey! That’s the Leechfang groove! Tribal dance
Hiruko shook his head, laying his back against the wooden pales of the tent.
His hands were filling a small parchment of vain words, asking the High Command which sent them there to send reinforcements.
"They come with the darkness… ", he said, as the last letter had gone by.
Bloodsong menaged to push them back, and retreated to catch breath and find an acceptable safe spot where to hide. But the battle was far from over.
The Orc exhaled a loud sigh, before getting up from the dusty ground, and head close to the bonfire Irobane had lit earlier that evening.
‘Another blood-thirsty war. The so called armstice won’t change anything…’, he thought.
‘But Bloodsong will not falter. We are fighting for the greater good of our kin, and if to sieze it, I have to impale that Archer’s head on a spear and bring it back to Orgrimmar… Then, I will.’
In similar fashion as before, another letter begins to circulate around all settlements of central Kalimdor and perhaps beyond:
The Orcish menace came to the woodland realm in search of cruel vindication. All they have found here is bitter disappointment and the ashes of defeat as they slink away in tatters. I address all Horde eyes that fall upon this parchment; You will find the same. Only under the Banshee Queen have you been able to defeat us, and in your mindless want to alleviate your murderous frustrations on the lives of Starborne, you now seek to lay blame for all the ills you rightly deserve. Your sins are beyond counting. You crimes, beyond comprehension. The freedom to make peace does not belong to you.
And, once again, a letter that specifically addresses the Tauren of Feralas follows shortly afterwards. This time it is spelled out in the written language of the Taurahe peoples:
Once more have warmongers taken shelter behind the strength of your people. Perhaps you do not provide this hospitality willingly, but you do all the same, to those who come in search of anarchy and tragedy. Hospitality is a great societal honour among your race. Deny it to the makers of war or be held to account the very same.