[N-RP] Herbal Hangout #07

[Dulvarinn-moonglade (Dulvarinn)]

A leaflet is neatly placed on the local billboard:

‘All herbal heroes are hereby once again invited to our greenhouse for an evening of verdant veneration. It will be an opulent opportunity for all bodacious botanists to get ardently acquainted. Kuhuine Tenderstride has called for a special Green Gathering to make an important announcement.’

Quest Objective: Obtain a sufficient quantity of Elixir of Tongues from Fizzi Liverzapper in the Underbelly of Dalaran (Broken Isles) and meet with The Botany Band in the Greenhouse at the Magus Commerce Exchange on the next Night of the Moon (Monday the 19th of August at 20:00 CET).

The Botany Band is a roleplay guild with focus on adventurous study of plantlife. Led by Kuhuine Tenderstride we welcome every friendly adventurer with a green thumb!

[Alunaria-moonglade]

Fly, fly, little thread, today is yours

[Isilae-moonglade]

“Need travel from Stormwind but will be there!”

[Alunaria-moonglade]

The last screenshot delivery has arrived

Thank you so much for all of the events and memories

OOC: Classic calls upon me from next week; something I am beyond excited about
I will always cherish the memories we have made together,
and wish you all a fantastic time ahead

[Dulvarinn-moonglade (Dulvarinn)]

As always the Emerald Dreamway balanced between the tranquil and the mercurial. Veridian mist covered the very idea of a sky and the song of nightbirds was ever present. Sitting by the Emerald Leaper toads on the large stone in front of the ripples from the steady waterfall, Dulvarinn read the letter from Alunaria once more. A valediction written, but not spoken. This was it. The urge for going. Somehow he longed for the smell from the hearth that night in Fort Wildervar. He suspired slowly while listening to the soothing and vaguely distant melody of running water.

– ‘Blue Child,’ he said quietly: ‘I am alone yet again. We are in no rush, but once more I have…’

– ‘Even as a shan’do! Even as a shan’do!’, rattled the eerie voices from the eastern glade of the Dreamway where the Nightmare had scorched the ground and warped the trees into heinous and twitching structures:

– ‘Even as a shan’do!’

Dulvarinn shivered and turned his head. He knew that his mind was like the water, but for now it only seemed to run from his eyes. Another deep breath. Looking away from the Nightmare, he gazed at the shimmering portal leading to the Grizzly Hills. They had always been near and yet always afar.

– ‘Even as a shan’do!’, echoed the voices once more with a ghastly and gasping sound. He blinked and maintained his gaze with a defeated smile:

– ‘Goodbye, my doe. Goodbye.’

⸻

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[Alunaria-moonglade]

…Beautiful

[Helstrøm-moonglade]

The pinewood crackles as the flames bite into to the fresh wood laid on the fire. A cloud of bright orange sparks rises up like so many fireflies, contrasting with the overcast indigo sky over the small forest clearing. Mere moments before, the flames had already sunken into glowing cinders emitting warmth and casting a mysterious orange aura on the two figures resting on the mossy forest floor just close enough to the glow to be distinguishable. At the sudden surge of warmth and light from the fire, the snowy gryphon’s head emerges from underneath its wing. The fiery eyes open, seeking the cause of the sudden disturbance. The big shaggy brown bear next to the gryphon opens a bleary eye and sniffs the air. In the glow of the fire the dwarf grins down at his two trusted companions from behind his long beard, that mirrors the colour of the fire. A thick woollen hood casts a shadow on his face. The steam of his breath rises from underneath the hood on the crisp air of the northern pine forest. As he lowers the grey hood, his wavy orange hair falls to his shoulders. The gryphon lets out a reproachful screech and lowers its head. No need to get grumpy, Thrice, chuckles the dwarf. I merely wanted you to stay warm.

The frosty night would normally delight the gryphon. All three companions often longed for the two moons rising at the end of the day, to signal the coming of the cooling purple veil of night. But they had travelled long and the trip over the mountain had exhausted the old gryphon. Comforted by the familiar voice of the dwarf, he tucked his head underneath his wing once more. You knew I was coming, didn’t you, Beart? The dwarf looks down at the mountain of thick brown fur. The big bear opens his eyes at the mention of his name, as the dwarf kneels next to him. The bear pushes his wet nose into the palm of the dwarf’s hand, which Helgi interprets as a sign that the bear is happy he has returned. With his free hand, the dwarf opens the silvery clasp of his heavy woollen travelling cloak. He rifles through the pockets of the cloak and pulls out a strip of smoked mammoth meat. He grins as he feels the big black nose twitching in his hand as it takes in the familiar smell of the bear’s favourite treat. There you go, Beart. You must be hungry, after…

With a jerk, the big bear rears his head in the direction of the eerie trembling sound coming from beyond the circle of light. Helgi stares into the dark beyond the soft glow emanating from the embers. A moment later, he responds to the call of the nightjar with the same sound, indistinguishable to the original. The wings of the mysterious nocturnal bird barely make a sound as its butterfly like wingbeats take it into the ring of orange light, casting sketchy shadows on the tree trunks at the edge of the clearing. Assured it has found its target the nightjar drops a small parchment scroll onto the moss next to the dwarf and silently flies of into the darkness once more. Helgi gingerly stretches out his hand at the small scroll. His green eye rests on the seal fixing the scroll. It is not the familiar green tree of the Botany Band, but a silver tree on an indigo field. He picks up the scroll and holds it to Beart’s nose. The big bear goes dreamy eyed as he takes in the faint but familiar smell of choral honey. Helgi smiles at Beart, as he also recognises the smell. He confidently breaks the seal and instantly recognises the slant handwriting. He reads and then re-reads the short note. He turns over the parchment in his hand, as if expecting more information to be written on the back. In the few moments it takes to read the letter, a cold wind sweeps the clearing, chasing some of the clouds away so that the faint greenish glow of the Blue Child and a pale silver light from the White Lady are added to the colour pallet of the night sky.

Helgi shivers as he pulls his stare away from the parchment. The now faint orange glow of the fire cannot hide the ashen colour on his face. The shivering is a near unfamiliar sensation to him, bringing back distant memories. Being used to the frosty winds over Aerie Peak, the shivers have no connection to the cold draft creeping through the pines now, but rather to feelings of pain and loss neatly tucked away in the foggy corners of his memory. Both Beart and Thrice are alerted by the sudden change in the atmosphere and four amber eyes are fixed on the dwarf that stands rigid and oddly upright with his broad back turned to them. Having completely different sensory systems, both the bear and the gryphon have no trouble understanding that something is very wrong with their friend. As Helgi turns towards his companions, they are alarmed to sense the uncommon mix of emotions that is emanating from the dwarf. Surprise, relief, anger and sadness mixed into an uncomfortable and unfamiliar facial expression. Not like this…, growls Helgi with a hoarse voice. The dwarf stamps out the fire with his foot with such force, sparks dance around him. Before the last of the sparks have died out, the three figures have hurried of into the darkness of the forest. With the fire extinguished, only pale moonlight occupies the clearing, giving the silent trees a silvery glow against an indigo sky.

[Alunaria-moonglade]

She watches them from afar. Unseen in the shadows. Soundless.

Ready to unveil herself, about to take a step forward, she feels a hand on her shoulder. Not a hand like her own - that of a symbol of comfort and reassurance.
No. A hand with a lot more weight, placed to force obedience.

Another kaldorei is behind her. A male. Much taller. Older. Experienced. One who wears rage and stubbornness better than warmth and gratitude.
Lithe and fierce.

A characteristic she once had herself, but has attempted to cast aside over and over. The traits of her kin grow deep.

“No.”.

His voice echoes through her.

“There is a reason for the way, you have chosen to depart.
You said so yourself.”

“I know.”

She avoids his gaze.

Fresh torment reinjures her wounded heart. Overwhelmed with raw grief, penetrating through her.

“But I cannot in good conscience allow them to thi-…”

He interrupts her.

“You can and you have to. Do you want indecisiveness to take control of you once more? You have been at this crossroad before.
There is no room for a hot-headed kaldorei amongst them. They are better off without you. That is what you said. They will soon come to realize that.
Our kin will never fit into that.”

Through repressing tears, silently, she hopes, beckons for them to turn around. Discover her.

“I do not want to turn into but a random image, that just floats in the pool of their memory. What if I one day retu-…“

He grabs her by her shoulders and shakes her. Startlingly she stares at him.

“Enough, Ravensky!”

He bares his teeth. She glowers at him, and holds her breath.

“Life never favored weakness.

New beginnings are often disguises as painful endings.

The care of our nature should be our most pleasing responsibility. Even when we need to make use of the drastic measures, we are about to put in motion.

Do you want to cross the ocean? Then do not just stand and stare at the water.

You show too much promise to turn back now. There are no barriers, other than the ones we have chosen to construct and can choose to remove at any time.

Heed the voice of Elune.”

She takes a moment to steady herself. He hands over her glaive. Reluctantly she accepts it.

“As the Goddess wills.”

She regains control of her voice.

Through glazed eyes, she observes. Ignoring the lasting injuries to her body, mind and spirit.

She lets them go.
Still unseen. Still in the shadows.

Yet a flicker of hope rests within her, unwilling to be put out.

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