Westfall Brigade Encampment, Grizzly Hills, Northrend.
Vashava looked out across the Encampment at night, deep in thought…
The conflict in the Grizzly Hills was drawing to an end, it seemed. The entirety of the forces aligned against against the Alliance, Horde, Scarlet, Loyalist, and Drust-Witch, had come for them at Grizzlemaw. And they had held. They had survived. They had persisted. Many had fallen, but the Alliance had endured. An Ancient of War, summoned by their Grizzlemaw allies, had been corrupted by one of their foes, likely the Drust-Witch working with the Horde, the same Horde that had summoned demons and monsters and worse to try and win this conflict.
The resources of the Grizzly Hills were either held by their allies, the Grizzlemaw, or otherwise reduced to broken splinters and ash. With the conflict over, the Iron Dwarves were unlikely to aid anyone further. It would take a while for anyone to move in and start actively extracting resources from the land, time in which the Alliance would be able to diplomatically take control of the land. The Horde had rejected peace terms, had attacked negotiators at the start of the conflict, and committed various acts of brutality and evil. With luck, Stormwind’s agents would use this to take back their land. It was a brutal victory of a strange sort, but a victory none-the-less.
And so, Vashava did not sleep this night. Instead, she took position overlooking the Encampment, and soon, a version of the Lament of the Highborne began to sound across the Encampment. Not the Thalassian version, but the original, Kaldorei version. It’s words are changed only slightly to mourn the fallen of all races, rather than just Kaldorei. A short while later, the same Lament is sung from the top of Grizzlemaw, echoing around the tree, paying respect to the Alliance’s valiant allies. Once more, Kaldorei, Furbolg, and the children of the Titans had stood together against evil, and once more, they had prevailed.