[PCU] Worgen/Night Elf RP - Dirge of Teldrassil 🌳

[Karinar-argent-dawn (Karinar)]

We’re still here and still doing terrible things to the Horde.

[Tenasa-argent-dawn]

The Dirge fight on, and never forget. Which is a lot more than the current story can say.

[Gorahk-argent-dawn]

grrrrunts i hear these elves/mutts are stuck in some mine right now

i am waiting for them to get out so i can kick their behinds lok’tar ogarrrr

[Karinar-argent-dawn (Karinar)]

No matter how much Anduin and the other faction leaders forgive Sillyvanas for genocide, the Dirge will never stop trying to stab her, the forsaken and everyone else wearing a Horde insignia in the face.

[Irent-argent-dawn]

Dirge went through some trouble in Searing Gorge and Burning Steppes, with Aid of they Dwarves and Gnomes friends were fighting against the Dark Iron and Blackrock orcs and Demons l!

Been called traitors by Stormwind and having bounty on they heads, Dirge tryed to solve the mistery and storm the Blackrock Mountain inerts, from the very bottom to the very peak!

Human agent arrived with Stormwind Sentry to deal and surprisingly, help Dirge out as they were set up. After exhausting battles they finally confronted Dirge old foe, The Netherlord and her Demons.

Been now presumed buried under the rocks, Dirge get moving with mission to clean they name and gut anyone who set them up.

Dirge next station… Ironforge.

[Labyssra-argent-dawn]

A story from Yier Shatterstring, the Harbinger of Dirge of Teldrassil:

Roz… or Zero as the man had come to call himself through cryptic reasons at a later date was not a person Yier considered a friend, or even liked. Indeed, the two had on numerous occasions come to blows of words regarding the Dirge’s means of war, far before she had become the Harbinger. To him, Yier and others like her represented a possible dark future of the Kaldorei and Gilneas, one where the hunter slowly becomes the monster they were sworn to destroy. To her, Roz was at best a naive idiot who’d simultaneously exhibit a callous lack of sympathy for his own people’s suffering, while also questioning the ethics of the Dirge’s ways in relation to the suffering inflicted upon the innocent bystanders, be they Horde or otherwise. Yet despite this impassable chasm of opinions the man had always remained by the Dirge’s side. Indecisiveness or not, she hadn’t much cared to inquire further – she had served alongside far worse than simple naive fools and Roz for all his flaws could fight. That was all she needed of him.

They had thought him dead once before: taken by the aftermath of a chaotic battle in Kalimdor against a cult of heretics. But he had returned, though changed in both attitude and appearance and taken upon the name “Zero”. She would’ve perhaps pursued the matter further, but the two’s longstanding dislike of each other, which seemed to have only worsened for the worgen had made that all but impossible. Beyond that the man seemed to have lost any ability to feel pain, as he would come to regularly receive strikes upon his body that’d floor even the most staunch paladin. It now dawned upon her she had never questioned the man’s sudden nigh indestructability, and just utilised him as best she saw fit. Perhaps having him come back had made him seem somehow… invincible.

But wolves do not have nine lives, and so the war would eventually come claim Roz for good.

An ambush by the looks of things, he had been struck a critical blow to his body. Whatever had happened… the foe had struck in a manner that seemed to have ended the fight then and there. There was nothing they could do for him, save for having his body either sealed in the Vault, or returned to his homeland. And so she had let the matter slide into the back of her mind, occupied by other matters for the time being. Until now.

It had been a chance encounter: one of the handlers for the wagons delivering supplies to the Alliance forces as Chiselgrip had made mention of seeing an orc running around with what looked like a bright red crystal in his hands. She had paused and turned to the waggoner for any further information. Ilistria had made mention that the crystal adorning Roz’s helmet had been taken. A bright red crystal.

They had fought for several days, weeks now relentlessly. She was exhausted and could feel it… but even so, she felt something inside her snap and a feeling she had not experienced in a long time began to bubble up to the surface. It was rage.

She had left the merchant – she was pretty sure her expression had changed, as the merchant had seemed to become scared. Walking over to Ilistria… she made a request:

“Ilistria, I need your strongest poison. Not the ones that kill… the ones that make you suffer.”

To kill quickly was not her plan, no. This rage… it clouded her vision and mind. But for the first time in a long while… she couldn’t suppress it.

After a while of rummaging through one of her bags, Ilistria produced a small vial of pale yellow liquid.

“One drop is enough if directly in the blood stream, four drops if your adding it to a drink, it’s pretty tasteless… it will cramp muscles, very painfully, also causes discharges from both ends, anyone suffering from it will probably wish they were dead, the effects last anywhere from ten hours to a few days depending on the subject, don’t get any on your skin.” She instructed as she held the vial out.

Yier just took it without a word, peering at the strange liquid within before offering Ilistria a nod. This rage… it made it hard to stay still. She felt like exploding then and there. She turned to leave Chiselgrip, leaving Ilistria with the words:

“Don’t follow.”

Whether or not she did, she didn’t know… nor did she care. Her thoughts had become clouded and all she could think of was this single thing… this single hunt. It was all she focused on, right now. And so, she began to track her prey.

Broken and abandoned remnants of the orcish Horde’s settlements dotted the landscape of the Burning Steppes: any one of them could house some vagabond orcs, and only one of them would be the one she was interested in. She stalked through the ashen landscape swiftly and without making a sound. It’d been much easier with Saber here, but even on her own she had learned to hunt. What’s more… even on a different continent and with orcs who’d likely never met one of her people… she knew the smell of orcs, their stench. Her nose carried her onwards, picking up faint trails in the wind.

The first orc she met was not the one she was looking for. She simply snuck behind him and slit his throat. Nothing. She felt nothing. The second she decided to test if the poison was as strong as Ilistria had advertised… sleeping, she had simply dropped a couple of drops into his mouth and retreated to observe the effects. He had thrown himself into the lava after a while of what looked like pure agony. Yet, she couldn’t feel a thing.

Why did she care, anyway? Roz was not her friend, and his passing had, while regrettable not really affected her. The most she had felt was frustration realising she hadn’t ever dug deeper into his condition… which was now forever closed off. It wasn’t that, something else had driven her to this tipping point.

After coming up short checking too many for her to care count abandoned orcish hovels she finally came upon an orc seemingly camping in the ruined remains of a hut, with nothing half corner of a wall up anymore. She observed from a distance a scrawny orc wrapped up in rags and bloodied hands, handling what appeared like a big red crystal.

That’s the crystal from Roz’s helmet, she thought to herself. She expected, no wished to feel something… but all she could feel was this numb, ever-present rage that felt like about to crush her underneath itself.

What was it that made her move? What reason was there for her to do any of this…? Her legs tensed up as she leaned back before suddenly extending them to jump in a leap straight at the orc with immense speed! The orc, barely having had time to realise what was happening had nothing but a small, crude knife to himself and even then it aided him little as by the time he’d gotten it off the ground, the two daggers laced with the yellow poison had already slashed across his chest. Her right knee slammed against his abdomen, and the two fell down.

“Grah- wh- who are y- gh-…? AAARGH–???”

It didn’t take long for the orc’s bewildered yells to begin turning to screams of absolute torment as his eyes became bloodshot, looking like they were about to pop out of his head and his mouth foaming. This lasted for a while, before a rock came smashing down upon the orc’s face. The elf’s face leaned down next to the orc’s ear, and with an animalistic, gutteral growl whispered past bared fangs:

“Shut. Up.”

It wasn’t Roz she did this for – it was for herself. True, she had never felt a bond between the two of them… but even then, he was her soldier. Hers to take care of. And she had failed him. She had failed yet another one.

Why had she chosen to fight? Why had she, a hunter from the middle of nowhere with no history of war or family of warriors to call upon from, chosen to fight? Because she wanted to protect those she cared about. Because in the face of it all, she felt like, at the very least just a little… she could protect others. So that she wouldn’t fail yet another.

And yet, she kept failing. No matter how hard she tried, and no matter how much she sacrificed she was unable to protect them all. Again and again.

“So… at the very least let me do this for you, Roz…” she whispered, as she reached down to pick up the red crystal from the ground.

She glanced at the orc, who had gone back to screaming from pain. She sighed before pulling out the length of rope from her belt and with little effort tied the orc up to the ruins by his arms. She was pretty certain this hadn’t been the orc to kill Roz… he had blood on his hands, but Roz didn’t bleed. He likely killed the one to have done the deed to get the crystal. But, at the very least he’d make for a meal for one of the beasts prowling the plains.

She wiped the crystal clean, giving it a glance before pocketing it and turning to return towards Chiselgrip. Her uncontrollable rage had subsided for now, and her thoughts turned to the Dirge’s future.

She’d likely loose more, and she’d be as unable to accept it as today. But at least now… she had forced back the hand of fate, even if only just a little.

[Danielbrock-argent-dawn]

I can’t wait for us all to bond over the deaths of green-skins on Kalimdor!

For the Alliance!

[Yier-argent-dawn]

The Dirge have returned to Kalimdor, firstly to partake in a conflict within the dusty plains of the Barrens alongside the Concordat, the combined forces of battle-sworn allies of the non-human races of the Alliance, and the Sentry of Stormwind in aid of the Northwatch against the Horde.

[Yier-argent-dawn]

The quiet rippling of the water filled an otherwise serene scene, as she lied down resting within the shallow pool of faintly glowing waters. A Moonwell, yet not quite: combining the waters from a Moonwell under the guidance and blessing of a priestess, the Kaldorei had formed these small places of healing to heal the surge of fighters returning from their combat along the front. Though the effect wasn’t as great, after a night’s rest submerged in the waters the wounds from the last few days already felt like a distant memory, save for a particularly nasty frost-burn on her shoulder from some orc’s fist. But it too would heal, in time. It wasn’t herself she carried concern for, either way.

She glanced to the side, where a great form laid deeper in the waters, with only his snout peeking above the water. Saber, her loyal Nightsaber and companion through the time of the war was wounded. An orcish shaman had cut open his back with an axe, and set the elements against him during their fight, not to mention the wounds from his vile worg. He still slumbered deep, slowly healing. She looked down at his one good eye, and wondered what he was dreaming about. He looked like at peace, at least.

She leaned against the edge of the pond, eyeing out to nothing in particular and recalled that fight. She had been preoccupied fighting a Pandaren, Saber had engaged the orc and his ride sometime after that. They often fought side by side on the battlefield, never too far apart. It mimicked how they had hunted in the years prior… to everything. She exhaled, it had become harder and harder to consider her past memories… her own. Like looking through a glass, she felt as if she was observing the life of someone completely different, an entity foreign to herself. But Saber… she still felt the same. He was her companion… and a link to a past she knew she’d never be able to regain. She furrowed her brows, returning back to the previous fight.

Judging by the sounds, Saber had first engaged the worg: an armoured beast adorned with the sigils of the Horde, her first clue as to the importance of the rider. She had heard his roars, as the orc’s axe cut into his back but was unable to provide aid. She had been knocked down with a hard punch, she thought, perhaps? What happened next made her memories of anything else hazy. She had raised her head, and caught sight as the orc had reared his axe high into the air, unleashing a vicious bolt of lighting at Saber the next moment. She could even now start to feel it… that rage, that anger surging up her chest. She bared her teeth and clutched her hand, tearing down into the grassy ground. She had rushed at that orc, the greenskin with great speed and leaped up to first try and tackle him off his saddle. It had not worked, the orc had instead turned to smash his fist into her, and succeeding. Though as she had fell, she managed a single cut on his skin with her sword.

Another Kaldorei, one prior unknown to herself had then drawn the orcs attention to himself and given her time to prepare her next move. With a lithe step she had surged forwards and drawn two of her daggers to come from behind and plunge them into the orc’s exposed upper neck. Though fate conspired against her and the orc had gotten pushed forwards just before she could strike, her daggers still cut into his green skin, drawing blood before a heavy boot knocked her back down once more.

A goblin had appeared near the orc by this point, asking about the existence of a “field hospital”. Despite the nonsensical nature of this question, she now surmised it meant this orc was not just another soldier, but indeed an officer. What happened next however she did not expect: the orc, after a while grunted and seemed to be greatly discomforted, turning towards her after perhaps the two had the same thought just then: the daggers. Now that she thought back on it… some of Ilistria’s poison might’ve still been on them, and she hadn’t cleaned them. Unfortunately the poison having lost most of its potency, all it did was make the orc even angrier. There was a flash of light, and pain surged across her body.

Still, despite her wounds she and Saber had survived… and now, she was vengeful. This orc had hurt Saber. This orc was someone important. This orc… was called “Stone Guard”. A rank within the Horde. Come to think of it… she was pretty certain she had seen the orc before… on the battlefield, yes. Her brows furrowed as she thought deep and hard on it. It wasn’t really a secret, though she didn’t make a point to tell anyone but she had always struggled with names. Ever since she had been little. It was part of what drove her to learn a life of solitude, a life of a hunter.

“Stone Guard… Stone Guard… G… Gruggosh…”

Stone Guard Gruggosh. She remembered now. A name uttered by the men of Stormwind. The commander of the Thirteenth. The one that had hurt her Saber.

The one she’d make pay.

—<>—

[Darnassian] “Um- A-are you… alright?”

A voice broke out from the darkness. Yier snapped her gaze to its source, rising an eyebrow. Her right arm had already reached for the dagger hidden beneath the bushes, but after a while the speaker emerged. A female Kaldorei, wearing what she surmised to be some hand-me-down Sentinel’s armour and a sword and shield, greeted her. Yier judged her to be younger than herself, nodding in reply before answering:

“I am Yier, the Harbinger of the Dirge of Teldrassil. What brings you here, sister? There is but myself and my companion here. If it’s the Sentinel commander you’re after, they’re further to the east-”

The figure shook her head, seeming almost apologetic though a certain determined look reflected from her blackened eyes. As soon as she saw that, it almost became pointless in her head to continue the conversation. Before she could even reply, she continued:

“You come to me to join us, is that it?”

“Ah- yes, um- is it that obvious…?” The elf appeared almost embarrassed, perhaps expecting a harder time.

“You bear the black eyes of our Goddess’ wrath. I know of the Dirge’s reputation. And you’re no Sentinel, I can see it from the way you stand.” She gestured at the elf’s feet. Sentinels gained their mannerisms after rigid, grueling training that left little to no room for errors. If she was to guess… this was the result of home-grown training. Much like herself.

“What is your name, then?” She asked the elf, studying her further as rays of moonlight peeked past the treetops onto her. The skin of her hands was soft… only recently seriously marred, but she could already count a few scars.

“Relisea… Relisea-…. Glaivesong.” A pause in her words, eyes that for the briefest while did not seek contact. With a soundless exhale, Yier leaned further down.

“Relisa Glaivesong… what reason do you have to fight? Why do you carry the mark of the Black Moon?”

“… My family was killed at Teldrassil. I saw my sister hunted for sport at Darkshore. I- I gained these eyes without… really thinking about it. They sort of just… came to me, I guess?” She tried a soft laughter to ease the situation, though Yier’s inert reaction caused her to straighten her back again.

Yier furrowed her brows, before closing her eyes with a sigh. “Indeed… that is how it was for many of us. I see. Mmm.”

“Um- so?” Relisea leaned in a little, studying the Harbinger expectantly.

“First… a test of your skills. All partisans take it. I’m not interested in big mouths… words cannot match steel… unless you’re a wizard.” Relisea’s ears tensed briefly, as she leaned back as Yier rose from the pool and moved to clothe up before ushering her to a clearing nearby.

“I see you fight with sword and shield.” Yier said as she gestured at Relisea’s armaments.

“Y-yes… my tu-master said I was best suited for them.” Relisea replied, eyeing down at her sword and shield.

“Mmm, I see. You may have the first move.” Yier said, wearing her casual clothes alongside her blade, the Wraithbane as she gave a few stretched before assuming her stance, waiting. “You do not need to hold back.”

“A-alright… you said it was ok…!” Relisea said almost eagerly, as she rushed forwards. Good reaction time, Yier thought before throwing herself back to prepare to meet the charging elf.

The two clashed, Yier throwing herself to the side to circumvent Relisea’s shield and get on her side, but Relisea pulled her sword back and, locking her right leg threw herself to face Yier anew. Her shield had squared corners to smash into opponents, and so she hurled it towards Yier! Deflecting the blow with the pummel of her blade in a downward, left-facing blow, while hurling herself to the right to get out of the shield’s line of travel she appeared behind Relisea’s back, drawing her blade back and striking towards her exposed back, only to be in turn blocked by the pummel of Relisea’s blade that had come around from her front with lightning fast speed! Twisting her blade in her hands, Yier managed to parry her blade with her own as they dragged against each other.

“Oh? You’ve been trained diligently, haven’t you?” Yier mused as she jump-stepped back, creating distance. Relisea drew a few quick breaths, offering a smirk.

“Always be aware of your surroundings… especially your back. That’s what I was told.” She resumed her stance, and charged at Yier again! However this time, she broke her run a little before she reached her to jump to the right, then to the left! However, as she then suddenly resumed her charge from the centre just before reaching Yier, the hunter suddenly turned sideways and sending Relisea flying past! Nearly crashing into a tree, she glanced back. “… How’d you know I was-”

“Coming from the front? You’re in armour, I am not. Creating doubt in the enemy, then charging head on at the last second can be a valid strategy.” Yier explained, taking a few test swings with her blade afterwards. “Alright… let’s continue.”

A little frustrated grunt escaped Relisea’s lips, as she this time held her shield out front, springing into a circular run around Yier. However, she blinked in startlement as Yier suddenly lunged at her with a sword thrust, and with a metallic clang and eruption of sparks, she felt a warmth across her left cheek where Wraithbane had cut into her face, the curved blade circling around the rim of her shield. It was not a deep wound, but enough to draw a trickle of blood. Yier had twisted her body just before impact sideways, the flat side of Relisea’s blade nearly hugging her wild-woven tunic. The two stood motionless for a moment, exhaling as the adrenaline rushed through their bodies. Afterwards, she let out a frustrated groan and fell down on the grass.

“Congratulations, you’ve cleared the test.” Relisea glanced up with a confused expression, eyeing Yier.

“Wh-what? But- I lost, didn’t I?”

Yier shook her head as she offered Relisea a hand. “No, Relisea Glaivewing. The test is to see if you’ve the skills… not to see which one wins. And through you might be no Sentinel, you’ve a solid base built up…”

Relisea eyed the hand before casting a look to the side. “Yet I still lost… out in the real world, that means death…” Yier tilted her head, musing to herself for a moment.

“Out in the real world it isn’t over at the first cut, either.” Relisea’s eyes remained downcast for a moment longer, before she eyed back up, and reached for Yier’s hand. But when their hands connected, she suddenly found herself getting pulled up rapidly, held there firmly by Yier.

“Also… out in the real world, such convenient lies don’t work.” She grunted, as moonlight shone down upon them both and lighting the transparent, partially painted over Arcane tattoos on her right cheek.

“You’re… a Highborne, are you not?” Yier asked, though her voice held no malice within it. Relisea turned her eyes away briefly, muttering out: “… I cast out that life already. I’m a Kaldorei. Relisea Glaivewing… that’s who I am.”

Yier eyed down at her, thoughtful for a moment before letting go. “You’re free to be whoever you wish… I simply wish you’ve no baggage to carry with yourself into Dirge.” She continued studying Relisea, now narrowing her eyes before speaking:

“My family really was killed at Teldrassil… I’ve no history, no nothing. I’m just… Relisea Glaivewing.”

Yier couldn’t sense any lie in her words, nor did she have the luxury of denying someone such as her. She just let out a slight sigh, before waving her hand. “Fine, fine… I’ll believe you, Relisea Glaivewing. Welcome to the Dirge of Teldrassil. Now come, we’ve to prepare.” She said as she began to lead the two back to the pools.

“Prepare? Prepare for what?” Relisea asked, curious.

“You have to ask? To return to the battlefield, of course!”

[Yier-argent-dawn]

Relisea sat by the edge of the waters, wanting to scream. Not moments after she had arrived in Astranaar she had received a call to head out into the forest and track down the rest of Dirge away on a mission. After a while of search, she had found their track and found her way to them… and the High Elves.

Trouble, this is trouble. She had thought. The Arcane aura inherent to her - the un-washing mark that would forever mark her former identity, her “nature” that she had spend so long learning to suppress might be all for naught, if it reacted to the Quel’dorei’s magic. The Harbinger’s seeming disinterest in the matter had given her a false sense of comfort, but seeing how the Watcher accompanying them since Darkshore reacted to their newfound companions had been like a splash of cold water over her. Of course, it was a natural reaction she realised. Ten thousand the Kaldorei had spend shunning the Arcane, the fact any of their people had accepted the Highborne back into their society at all was nothing short of a daily miracle.

But she… she was a Kaldorei, now. And when the Black Moon rose, and her eyes were darkened for the first time she truly felt like one of her people – their struggle was her struggle. Their triumphs were her triumphs. But now this appearance of these elves, her distant cousins that openly wielded their magic - and had little to perhaps no regard for the circumstances of someone like her would risk exposing her.
At the back of her mind, she already knew the truth. Her fantasy was just that, a fantasy and sooner or later it’d unravel around her – yet she still yearned for it. To feel no different… to feel like one of them, to be accepted among them, without conditions.

And yet she had failed even at that… she had lied to one of the High Elves, when asked why she insisted on keeping her distance. In her unprepared state, she had repeated one of the many lines she had practiced when she first set out to integrate: “The forest is our ally. We do not fear it.” The truth however was, that she still couldn’t do but pretend, for the forests still unnerved her. After all, she had spend the first four thousand years of her life secluded, hidden away.

Grumbling under her breath she studied her own reflection in the waters after their return.

[Darnassian] “Damnit… I was supposed to act normally-…”

[Darnassian] “You’re a Kaldorei no-”

It was then that a sudden voice- not one of a Kaldorei but the voice of a Quel’dorei male came from the side:

“I apologise for following you. It weighted on my mind. Would not you like to at least introduce yourself? “

Startled, she threw herself sideways, falling down on her rear on the grass as she eyed out in a bewildered manner.

“Bwah-!?”

“…”

“Um-”

A High Elf, blue eyed and graceful as most of his kin were stood some distance away from her to the left. His eyes narrowed to her reaction, but remained otherwise unmoving. She knew him – he was one of the High Elves of the “Azure Dawn” that the Dirge now found themselves aiding for a time. And also the nosiest one of them all.

“Everything is alright, no need to be anxious.” He spoke, retaining a calm tone.

“How-… long have you been there?” she asked, before adding in a slightly dreading tone: “Um- did you-… hear- understand what I said-…?”

The elf smiled as he answered: “Just for a moment. No need to be concerned.”, adding with a shake of his head: “Not a word.”

Ah, she must’ve switched to speaking her own tongue without realising. A sense of relief briefly washed over her and she couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Ah- ye-yeah-… I- I guess you wouldn’t…”

“Our languages sadly estranged long time ago.” That they did, she thought.

Managing to overcome her initial shock, she thought back to the elf’s initial words. “Introduce- um- my name?” She asked, hoping to finish the conversation quickly.

The elf nodded, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m-… I’m Relisea… Relisea Glaivesong.” It was not a lie. That was her name.

“Just-… your average… Kaldorei fighter.”
The elf bowed his head, but remained otherwise still, perhaps concious of the Kaldorei’s seemingly skittish behaviour. “It was pleasure to fight at your side today, lady Glaivesong.”

“Um-… likewise?” She answered… she hadn’t actually fought at all tonight, too preoccupied with keeping herself from slipping. It then dawned upon her she didn’t know any of their names… She shouldn’t have asked, if she wished to keep their conversation short but she didn’t want to come across as rude… it might give them more incentive to try and press anything, should they find out. “Mister-…? Um- what is your name?”

“I am Brightblade. Reyath at that – and you’re far from average. Your bravery was impressive, you’ve found us all by yourself.” The elf Reyath answered her.

Relisea chuckled in her mind… this Reyath had no idea how badly those words, meant as a compliment stung her. She saw the web of lies start to unravel in her palms.

“I- like I said… the forest… is our ally. W-we do not fear it…” She could only repeat that corny rehearsed line whilst her eyes trailed off from Reyath’s.

The High Elf merely inclined his head towards her. “It fascinates me. The relationship between your people and your surroundings. My brethren broke their bonds with nature long ago.”

“So-… I’ve heard…” Well, she wasn’t too different, herself.
“Thank you for helping us today, on behalf of my companions, and myself.” He continued.

“No-no problem… it’s… it’s what we do… we’re… the Kaldorei, defenders of the land.” She blurted out.

Even though I didn’t really do anything, she thought. Her shock slowly turning to disappointment at her own lack of initiative, her right hand clutching into a fist slowly.

A stray ray of moonlight shone down upon her face, the faint Arcane tattoo adorning her right cheek briefly glimmering in its light.

“That you are.” Reyath said. His eyes briefly fixating upon the tattoo on the elf’s cheek, but opting not to pursue the matter further, instead turning his gaze away before instead musing: “I’ve heard tales of Sentinels. Maybe one day, you’ll share some of your stories with me.”

He patted a tome hanging at his belt with his right hand. “I like stories. To hear them, record them.”

Relisea blinked, and held out her hands. “Ah- I’m- I’m not… a Sentinel, ahah.”

“Um-… Sentinels are…”

“But you live around them, with them, and no doubt went on countless adventures with them.” Reyath inquired.
I guess this is a case of cultural shock, she pondered to herself.

“Um-… I’ve… fought-… for a while, now. But the Dirge… aren’t Sentinels.”

The High Elf rubbed his chin as he eyes her. “Curious. What are you, then?”

Within Relisea’s mind, that question suddenly sent her hurling through several answers at first, before it dawned on her the Dirge’s and her personal answers were much the same. Silently, her head turned as she cast her eyes aside. “… I lost nearly everyone at Teldrassil.”

It was not a lie, not this time. At least not entirely. She had already lost much, but just like now she had thought that the lie from then would hold. Perhaps it would’ve held, if not for the burning. Her dream had burned like so many others in those fires that night.

Reyath lowered his head, closing his eyes with a degree of understanding not derived out of simple empathy. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Um-… we all have. There’s… there’s not enough Sentinels alone, anymore.” Yes… her people, the Kaldorei were spread thin. Thinner than they had perhaps ever. What was the Dirge’s mission, if not to secure the future of their peoples?

“But that is why you have us, and other allies. We will not let you down again.” The High Elf said, clenching his fist. She was aware of his people’s history. She pondered what he felt, saying those words but opted not to press the topic.

“… Some blame us stepping out into the world, for it all. A lot has happened, in such a short amount of time.” Yes, those people existed everywhere around her here. The same people that would likely orstracise her, should the truth come to light.
“Um- I don’t… I don’t know how… I guess relatable it is, to you people…? Um- How, uh- long do your people usually live for…?” She was blabbering on, even though she was meant to cut this conversation short. Perhaps a part of her wanted to talk about it, after all?

“I can hardly imagine how difficult it is to process it all. But you are still here, alive, and you stand tall and proud. That itself is a testimony of huge strength.”

“T- to answer your initial question-… I’m just… a fighter. Doing… my part. For my people.” She nodded, her words gaining confidence as the spoke them out loud. In the end, it was her truth: she was a Kaldorei, now. They were her people. And she’d fight for them.

“Some for millennia. Others are not as lucky. The Fall of High Home was similar, and different. We have lost everything, and ourselves.” Reyath said with closed eyes, speaking of his homeland.

“Ah- the-… Sunwell? I’ve-… heard of it.” A dangerous topic, she realised… she had to be careful with how she choose her words. The High Elf nodded to her words.

“I always thought there is no thing worse than death. But if your kin turns against you, it hurts just as much, if not more.”

Memories resurfaced in her mind, and without too much thought she simply spoke out loud:

“A… vial of the original, transported far away.”

“And just as it had molded our people… so the Sunwell molded them anew again…” Reyath nodded to her words, adding: “And our convenience, leading to addiction, and ultimately, The Fall.”

“You are bright. Many blame The Scourge for what happened to High Home, but the primary culprit was ourselves.”

It wasn’t her… she had merely recited the words from memory of distant days from another life. The Fall. It cut through her mind like a sharpened knife. She could hardly keep her body from visibly shuddering in reaction. Of course, he hadn’t meant that which she nearly instinctively drew her mind to, but it mattered little.

“Anyway, this story is far too long to be told in one evening. Just know – I can somewhat relate to the pain you feel.” More so than he even thought, she mused. There was a certain irony of her own make to it all.

“Um-… it- it mirrors… the tale… of the Highborne- so, um it’s… a little eerie, actually.” She said, trying to keep casual. Reyath wiped his eyes and looked up again.

“Sometimes, it feels we’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. However, don’t give in to that feeling.”

“Um-… well, th-that’s why… the Kaldorei came about. Another… path. A new path.” She replied, before titling her head lightly as she noticed the High Elf’s brow arching seemingly in thought.

“Um- is everything… alright?”

Caught, Reyath nodded quickly back at her with a reassuring “Of course”, before giving his closing remarks:

“I know not if the path of Kaldorei will lead you so salvation, but one thing I do know – that of the Highborne led to doom. Do not repeat our mistakes.”

She couldn’t gauge if there was more behind those words than at first seemed, but she couldn’t feel but chuckle in her head. But instead she just feigned ignorance and answered: “Um- that’s… the plan.”

“Now – I shall bother you no more. You and I should both get some sleep.”

“Y- yeah.”

Reyath again bowed at her courteously. “It was my pleasure to converse with you, my lady. I am sure we shall see each other again.”

“Y- yeah.” She repeated, her mind a jumbled mess as it began to dawn on her how close she had nearly brought herself just now, and her head felt like spinning.

“Elu’meniel mal alann. Good night.” Reyath had said with a smile before turning around, though she had barely registered it anymore. She just turned back to stare at herself in the water’s reflection. The future was uncertain, as murky as the waters in the lake with no clear path to follow. Whatever would happen, she could only keep moving on, day by day.

Her gaze lifted up as she uttered:

“… Elune, guide my path.”

[Danielbrock-argent-dawn]

Thank you for your cooperation on Kalimdor- Well for the parts where we did not argue about borders. King’s honour!

[Sythleas-argent-dawn]

After returning from my 2,5-3 year break i decided i wanted to join the Dirge. They have welcomed me open armed then guided me back into RP. It’s a great guild and so is the PCU. I look forward to become a bigger part of the community.

[Gorahk-argent-dawn]

Gonna burn down their trees ruuuargh loktar

[Ilistria-argent-dawn]

Stay away from our trees filthy orc.

[Elizaberta-argent-dawn]

I’ve seen the Dirge around and would be interested in joining your forces. I was whispered to about them a while ago but didn’t reply in time!

[Yier-argent-dawn]

Whisper any one of the following:

Yier/Relisea

Irent

Ilistria

We’re most often active between 8 to 11 PM server time!

We’d be happy to have you! Hear from you soon hopefully!

[Elizaberta-argent-dawn]

Thank you for your reply! That’s extremely helpful I’m sure you’ll hear from me very soon !

[Sylnaar-argent-dawn]

Had a blast with these guys in Ashenvale a while back.

Looking forward to catching up again in Outland soon:tm:

[Irent-argent-dawn]

Dirge returned back from they wary travel across Zangarmarsh and killing some Horde and Demons in Hellfire!

What await them next? Who knows.

[Kump-argent-dawn]

Cool Elves out there, representing the more wrathful side of Night Elven culture.