Part 1: Gratitude Out Of Grieving

A thunderous noise of fierce combat rung out in the air around Maestra’s Post as Orcs and Kaldorei Sentinels both fought for the death of their opponents.  The tipping point of the encounter was steadily going in the favor of the Horde invaders.  Fewer and fewer arrows were being fired from the tower railing above, while the six Orcs continued to pound the reinforced door at the base of the structure.

Wades, as a solitary Hunter, joined a Sentinel fighting against two heavily armored and shielded Warriors.  Their shields took blows from the Sentinel’s three-bladed glaive weapon that normally would have sliced a person in half, and their short swords continued to prod for an opening to slice her fair lavender skin, but she did not give up.

She spotted him approaching to her aid.  The Night Elf flashed her silver eyes to signal which of the Orcs she would put off guard so that he could end this miserable Orgrimmar foot solider’s life.  Her movements turned the one Orc so that his back was directly exposed to Wades’ unsheathed sword.

He raised his sword to descend, once again that day, into another green skinned enemy.  Just as he was about to bring his weight down with the weapon poised high in the air, a blur of wood and hide rushed backwards and slammed into Wades’ thighs.  There was a loud snap and a crushing sound as the Orc’s shield buried into him.  Both of his legs collapsed from the broken bones.

What neither of them predicted was that the other Orc had noticed their exchange and had waited until the last moment to strike.  He took his only form of defense and used it to cripple the attacker joining them.

The Hunter lay on the ground screaming and bleeding from where his legs had been bashed in.  The pain was all that was keeping him from passing out.  The knowledge that if he did not get back in the fight somehow the rest of the party might fall prey as well forced him to focus.

The clever Orc turned his head with a wide smile of tusks back onto the Sentinel.  He saw her face just in time to see her swing her multi-bladed weapon around in a reverse attack and rip cleanly through his torso.  He fell to the ground, but he did not scream, because his innards had already spilled out and bathed the scene with all the gore that comes with battle.

The remaining Orc stood still in shock for a few moments.  Those few moments were a few too many.  While he was still on guard against the Sentinel in front of him, he completely had written off the screaming pains as someone that was no longer a threat.

The sword in Wades’ right hand was all his foggy vision could focus on.  A blinding white pain continuously flared up his body into his head.  During one of the waves of pain the words of Fannon, the dwarf priest that had given him the sword as a gift, spoke to him.

“Remember my wandering Night Elf friend that this sword will be there for you in a time of need.  I am a healer and an alchemist by trade, but I have had an enchantment placed on this blade.  The runes on the hilt hold a spell called Divine Spirit.  It will active when you are at your weakest… use it and then seek…”

The hidden enchantment activated and Wades felt a momentary reprieve from the pain and disorientation.  As his mind cleared he saw within arm’s reach the other Orc.  He pushed himself up with his left arm and swung the sword in a low arching curve.  The metal sliced the back of the Orcs calves open and he fell to the ground.   The incapacitated Orc was met by the sword falling back on top of him, burying itself into his chest.

As the world begun to spin for Wades, he laid back down on the grass.  He looked around to the other group of combatants fighting their own struggle.  He saw the white feline form of his Druid companion striking with his claws and speed at the last Orc standing next to the other slain Orc Warrior.

He gripped the sword in his hand tighter and then the world went black.

With the five armed Orcs now laying lifeless on the ground, the six remaining Orc grunts dropped their battering ram and fled into the woods.  The two lady Sentinels bodies and minds were pumping massive amounts of adrenaline and they took off after the easy kills that had just ran away.  The din of battle in this part of the woods was quiet again.

Draccus came up to the limp body of Wades lying in the grass.  He saw the chest was still slightly moving in irregular breathing patterns.  The blood had thankfully slowed pooling around the Hunter’s body, and the wounds had started to clot.  The most disgusting scene was the bone and cloth poking out at odd angles.

“Do not throw up, Draccus!” He said to himself.  “This Hunter was there for you when you needed him.  In the wet rain and despair, He offered you friendship and a ray of hope.  Now he is in mortal danger and you have to do something to help him.”  Draccus not able to speak or communicate with anyone let out a roar and cry mingled together in order to get one of the Kaldorei Sentinels attention.

Not sure of how the Sentinels would perceive a large white feline beast standing over the body of a gravely wounded Night Elf, Draccus positioned himself between the woods and the body of his friend.  Draccus stood to the side of Wades and watched the three Sentinels come out of the tower and approach cautiously.

As best as he could he nudged and pointed with his muzzle towards Wades to indicate that his friend needed immediate help.  While none of the Sentinels were Hunters or could read to small detail signs of an animal, they all noticed the Cenarion Circle trinket that hung around Draccus’s neck.  This sign of the Druid’s community gave them some assurance but still they were careful.

“We need to get this Hunter to Astranaar as quickly as possible!”  The lead Sentinel said as she saw the extent of the damage and injury this stranger had received in attempting to assist them.  “If we do not move carefully and quickly the broken parts of his legs could sever a major artery and cause him to bleed out or send a blood clot into his heart.”

“Lady Warwood, the Orcs slaughtered our Night Sabers before we could release them into the wilderness before the siege began.  We do not have a quick way to transport this unknown Lord of the forest to Astranaar.  What can we do?” The second in command Sentinel asked from a logistical standpoint.

The Commander of Maestra’s Post looked at Draccus standing next to the body of the Hunter for a moment.  While not the same size as a Night Saber, he was certainly big enough for the task.  Then an idea came to her.

“You there, Druid of the Claw,” she shouted “are you willing to carry this Lord of the forest on your back if we secure him?  We need to get him to Astranaar as soon as possible.  He condition is pretty dire, because the Orcs from Orgrimmar have been poisoning their weapons and shields with some compound the Horde has come up with.  It stops the body from bleeding out any infections and then begins to slowly rot from the inside out.”

“I know of a powerful healer that is just a day’s hard journey from Astranaar by Night Saber.  Her name is Amerence, she is a highly respected Holy Priest from the Alliance, a human that some say can bring people back from the dead.  Her words of prayer not only encourage life to grow stronger, but she can mend our brother of the woods broken body as well.  But we must hurry.”

Draccus looked back at her with full comprehension of what Commander Lady Warwood had just said to him, but he was curious as to how she recognized and spoke to him expecting him to fully understand her.  He tilted his head expressing a look of bewilderment over her insight.  “How did she know that I would understand her and then go along with her commands like anyone under her command?”

“I bet you are a little confused as to how I recognized you as not only a Druid of the Cenarion Circle but specifically a Cat-form trapped Druid at that?”

Draccus visibly looked shocked that she knew so much about him.

“A few days ago we had a Druid pass through this region named Kelebek Swiftclaw .  She was on a journey of her own, to discover her hidden past as well as track down her mentor somewhere in the forests of Feralas.  She had heard rumors that a young Druid had broken away from a small group of Druids being trained in the region of Darkshore awhile back and no one had heard from him since.”

“So in answer of your unasked questions: Yes I was keeping an eye out, before we were attacked, for an unusually large feline Cat stalking the forest.  But No, I will not turn you over to the Cenarion Circle for punishment or judgment.  That is something you will have to decide.”

The two Sentinels that had disappeared into the woods after the fleeing Orcs came back into the clearing around Maestra’s Post covered in sweat, blood, and dirt.

“Okay, Druid of the Claw, I am ready to travel to Astranaar with you on foot.  I see my faithful Sentinels have returned from catching those last six unarmed Orcs that dared to attack us.  Do not worry about me keeping up with your pace, I have run many battles in Warsong Gulch and that requires constant conditioning and stamina.”

Draccus stretched his body out for what sounded like a hard cross country voyage.  He remained still and steady as the two other Kaldorei Sentinels secured Wades to his back with vine bindings and leather straps.

His friend literally was resting his entire hopes of survival on the back of Draccus now.  Silently in his mind the partial phrase of “at your weakest… use it…and then seek…” repeatedly coursed through his mind as he slipped back into unconsciousness.


The Saga continues with...... Part 2: Giving Generous Grace

Two Worlds Merging

The friendship between Draccus Moonsayer and Wades Quickshot grew quickly.  Following the days after their first encounter in the rainy forests of Darkshore, on the border of Ashenvale, they began to understand each other, on a deeper level.

On that stormy night a lone feral Druid had unknowingly stalked a stranger who would later become a friend.  Under the boughs of the trees a wandering Hunter, having just come back to his native continent of Kalimdor from across the sea, reconnected with a kinsman of his heritage.  These two Night Elves were both traveling in search of a moment of redemption.

Draccus sought to walk upright with dignity once again.  To break free of the beast form that trapped him from within.

Wades secretly searched in his heart for a way to rejoin his race. The very people he had turned his back on, in order to travel the world.  Wanderlust had made a sojourner out of him, and now there was a compulsion to come home.

Besides the skillful profession of being an Engineer, Wades was also a specialized Hunter in the field of Beast Mastery.  This learned discipline enabled him to better communicate and understand creatures of all kinds.  Although, sadly, he now had no pet to walk besides him, as his last combat partner had been slain in the distant jungles of Stranglethorn.  The large wolf, from the dark forests of Duskwood, had been tamed by him many, many years ago.  The only title that ever fit this large canine was Grinner.  This was because he often had the look of an impish boy, on his face.  The absence of Grinner was bittersweet, since Wades was cut off from the intimate connection they had shared; however this stillness enabled him to read the Druid, caught in feline form, more clearly.

“I see you are eager to be rid of this form Druid.” Wades commented, as he watched the steady driven pace of his companion on the road.  “But have you ever stopped and appreciated the powerful frame and abilities you possess as a Cat?”

Draccus turned his head and snarled back at the Hunter.  The annoyance to the comment subsided as quickly as it had flared up.  Realizing that he only asked out of curiosity and from his limited perspective, Draccus looked ahead again. “If only he truly knew how powerful and deadly my abilities were, then perhaps he would not envy me.  But at least he tries to reach out in friendship.  I can see he has his own struggles within himself.  Perhaps we have more in common then either of us knows.”

Recognizing that the road ahead would disappear behind them eventually, Draccus slowed his pace to match the Hunter’s.  He had been watching a small level of anxiety increase in this seasoned traveler as they came closer to meeting other Kaldorei.  This was a mystery.  Something he shared a part of.  He was willfully moving forward towards an uncertain future, while greatly burdened by the past.

After seeing Draccus slow his pace Wades sighed and said, “Thank you for slowing down.  My boots have walked many miles over the years and my feet seem to get easily fatigued lately.  But the truth is I am on a journey of my own, friend.  I am trying to reconnect with my Kaldorei brothers and sisters.  Could they ever accept me back within their ranks after having been gone for so long?”

Neither of them tried to say or motion a response to the others thoughts.  They both yearned silently that their answers would hopefully be found from the hermit called Grayo Duskwalker.  A stretch of faith for them both, but at least there was something there to hold on to.

Rumors had been told, that this Druid had once been given up for lost in the wilds of Feralas.  Grayo Duskwalker had been abandoned, isolated, and left as a shadow of his former self to suffer one of the greatest trials ever, the loss of his identity.  Many years later after most had forgotten him; he walked out of the woods into the village of Astranaar in the heart of Ashenvale.  Here was a Night Elf that personally knew the depths of great sorrow but had also experienced the joys of full restoration.

In the pursuit of this elderly figure they kept moving.  Even if they had to cross many zones to find him, the quest would be worth the reward.

The trail into Ashenvale passed by smoothly as the two party members traveled in search of their answers.  The landscape was an ancient and wild place.  Not wild in an untamed way but wild in the sense that there was always conflict, for those that lived within her borders.

This part of the world was constantly harassed by the forces of the Horde’s ambitions and lack of respect for nature.  One of the key points of contention was a place called Warsong Gulch.  This battleground had been fought over for countless generations.  The victories, like a storm on the sea, were constantly being tossed back and forth, between the two sides.  It was a training ground for the Silverwing Sentinels, an elite martial group of Night Elves tasked with defending the land.  It was a place for enemies to clash steel against one another and wave their fleeting flag of conquest over the defeated.

“Do you hear that Druid?” Wades asked, as he slipped his trusted longbow off his shoulder and shifted his quiver of arrows to the ready.  He crouched down to avoid being seen while listening for the direction of the nearest fighting.  The sounds of metal clashing against metal, muffled shouts of anger, and the hum of battle reached his ears.

Looking for support, Wades turned to find the Druid nowhere to be seen.  “Where did you disappear to Cat?” The Hunter asked aloud, thinking that the Druid had left him to face the approaching conflict alone.

Draccus, seeing the situation and the need for remaining unseen, shifted his body’s muscles and focused his mind on the feral abilities at his disposal.  Fading into the surrounding foliage his outline was just a mirage.  He was now completely in stealth mode, an invisible striking force, ready to engage an enemy should the need arise.

To let Wades know he was indeed still there he raked his front paw across the ground quietly in front of him.  The extended claws dug a shallow channel in the dirt to indicate his presence.  It was enough of a sign that the Hunter understood the message.

“How about we go investigate the disturbance and perhaps offer… some assistance?” Wades whispered, as he touched his short blade on his belt with his free hand.

The sounds of fighting echoed through the woods towards them from a location just ahead.  Maestra’s Post served as an outpost, an isolated watchtower, between the coastal area and the deeper forests.  Skirmishes were common along the borderlands between the Night Elves and the ever expanding Orcs, Goblin machines, and their Horde brethren.  The intensity and volume of the noise suggested that this battle was more than a typical scuffle.

As the pair slowly worked their way to the outskirts of the clearing, they immediately saw a group of eleven trained Orcs laying siege and fighting against a small contingent of five Kaldorei Sentinels.  Three of the Sentinels were holding the attackers back from atop of the tower.  The arrows that rained down failed to penetrate the shields and thick armor of these aggressors with much affect.  Six of the Orcs had cut down a young tree nearby and fashioned it into a crude battering ram.  With this instrument of warfare, they attempted to bash down the solid oak door into the tower.  Around the base of the structure were two separate groups engaged on uneven terms.  For the two Sentinels on the open ground there were four Orcs divided amongst them.  The eleventh Orc, withdrawn from the rest of direct warfare, appeared to be the leader of this party.  He was bigger and adorned in more armor then the rest, and he seemed to be assessing a plan of attack.  A veteran of Horde’s other wars more then likely.

Close quarter combat was the best option available to them.  Draccus had his lethal Cat form abilities while Wades had his experience.  Their biggest advantage would be surprise. Devastatingly lightning fast attacks would hopefully stun the brutes and take some of the green skinned marauders lives.

Wades Quickshot, sensing the pulse of this conflict, decided to secure his ranged weapon and pull out his short sword.  He was a gifted swordsman as well as an excellent archer.  A blade would be more efficient for the task at hand.  Besides, the Silverwing Sentinels were already covering the air with their arrows. 

Wades’ short sword had been presented to him as a gift from a Dwarf he met in his travels, while staying in Ironforge.  The Dwarves were renowned for their blacksmith work and the forging of superior weapons.  The steel of the blade had proven its worth in weigh of gold many times since it was first hammered out on an anvil.  Although never confirmed, there was a slight hint of enchantment about this weapon. This was because whatever it struck against, no matter how hard, the edge never dulled or chipped.

Draccus knew that the time to draw fresh blood and engage in the life-death struggle was upon him again.  The disdain and disgust of being another’s executioner was put aside in his mind.  Here he was needed.  The powers of savage fury lurking within his chest could be used to save someone.  Acting in the defense of others would not be a waste. Not aiding the situation, while a curse in his eyes, would be an act of a coward.  And a coward he was not.

A roar ripped through Draccus’s throat as he charged the leader of the Orc war party.  The grass and small brush were trampled under his swift paws.  He reached his target before the commander knew what hit him.  As a Cat, the stealth enabled him to strike and leap away before the Orc could pinpoint the cause of the attack.

The leader of the Orc party held a large two-handed axe made out of bone and metal.  He looked all around him for the source of the attack.  The noise had suggested a wide animal had sprung out of the woods, but what animal would attack someone in the middle of a siege?

Just as he was in mid-thought, he was struck on his side again.  The pain was greater this time, a deeper radiating pain.  He looked down his right side underneath his arm and saw a large bite mark that poured blood.  Unless mistaken, he saw a part of his ribcage along the edge of the wound.  Strength and stamina were a natural attribute of the Orc race, but he felt himself growing weaker.  The massive bone axe fell from his hands, but he refused to fall to the ground.

A sword pierced his chest with a downward stroke from behind, as he called out a warning to his warriors.  Only a wet gurgling of blood escaped his mouth.  It was an act of mercy at the hands of the Hunter, something that would not have been returned in kind.

With the Orc leader lifeless on the grass, only ten invaders were left to be dealt with.

Draccus decided to split up and even the odds for the two Sentinels fighting on the ground.  The two Sentinels, Sisters of the woods, were being pushed to their limits fighting the green skinned beasts alone.

He trusted that Wades could handle the other group fighting with their swords and shields.  He had to rely on his shadow striking skills for a sudden surprise, and then unleash all his energy to overtake an enemy that was better armored and armed then himself.

He slowly crept towards the three combatants nearest to him.  The two towering Warriors faced towards their prey with a look of evil delight.  A source of amusement to them, as they continuously swung their two-handed swords, looking for a fatal error on the part of the Sentinel.

The Warriors in their stances, protected in their various pieces of armor, revealed a small detail which Draccus could capitalize on.  There was a small gap between their mail boots and the chain-mail leggings.  This unprotected area showed the back of their legs just barely, but it was enough that a pair of razor sharp claws could hamstring them.

“The irony that these two Warriors would fall to some carelessness of armor discipline and the swift slicing of my paws is something I shall have to remember.  Always watch your back and take care of the armor you wear.” Draccus noted to himself.  “It’s time to take these giants down and teach them their fatal error.”  With that thought, he sprang from the shadows into the fray.


The Saga continues with... Part 1: Gratitude Out of Grieving

Emerald Elysium- Into the Wilds

“Bless the Ancients.” Draccus thought to himself as he looked out across the magnificent vista of the Ysera Plateau.  “It is such a privilege to visit the Emerald Dream.”

The early morning mists lifted their veil on the scene before him.  An untouched realm, set apart from the world of Azeroth, a place of sanctuary that had helped to calm the turmoil inside this young Druid.

The peaceful and tranquil valley sloped away from the towering forest, and was divided only by the flowing Tearkar River.  The name sake for this terrain came from the powerful Green Dragonflight leader Ysera, one of the original Dragon Aspects.  The landscape was timeless in her beauty and the serenity she offered.  Equally as immortal as the Lady Dragon Ysera the land knew only the gentle changes of the weather while remaining eternally in bloom and full of wild growth.  The Tearkar River brought fresh water and life into this region from the rain storms and snow melts.  The name Tearkar came from a language long forgotten, the meaning roughly translated was No More Sadness.

Draccus Moonsayer walked slowly with his quarter staff in hand, the simple grey robe on his back, and his bare feet feeling the soft grass beneath him as he approached the Dreambough Portal.  His time to return to Azeroth and part company from the Emerald Dream had come.

Dreambough Portals were bridges between the two worlds, the Emerald Dream and Azeroth.  There were five such Portals scattered across the lands of Azeroth that would allow the passage of a person permitted entry into the Emerald Dream.  The only ones that had been known to cross this threshold were Druids entering for prolonged periods of rest, mediation and rejuvenation.

A resounding calm filled the air as a soft wind danced around the tall Druid standing there.  He was reflecting back on the events that had led up to his arrival here.

“Amazing to think, who once was lost is now found again.  I return to the world I came from but not the same as I left it.”

Then the memories came flooding back to him.

He had been running for hours on end, well into the day.  The rhythmic pounding of his paws drummed the ground as Draccus fled away from the scene of his crime and shame.  Just that morning, he had lost control.  He had been innocent from the stain of ever having violently taken life from another.  He could never be that innocent again.

The taste of Scarrock’s blood would not wash out of his mouth no matter how much water he drank from the cold stream.  His Master’s look of disapproval and the knowledge that he had failed to preserve life had the double effect of guilt on this Cat-form bound Druid.

His feral instincts compelled him to escape further into the southern region of Darkshore.  Into the overcast forest he ran. The land had once been a mighty stronghold of the Nights Elves presence and foothold on the continent of Kalimdor.  Numerous ruins now dotted the landscape alongside the decaying and forgotten woods.  An atmosphere of gloom and chill clung heavily on branches and rocks.

Just as he was crawling through the underbrush past Auberdine, a large village situated on the coast, the weather closed in.  At first a single raindrop fell on a leaf near his nose, and then the entire sky opened up and washed the foliage and ground.  Pretty soon everything was soaked in the downpour including his furry hide.  The storm at least served to wash away the sweat, blood, and dirt from earlier.  Although Draccus had the added protection of fur and thick skin to block out some of the weather, the cruel chill still saturated him to the bone.

“The warmth of a lodge’s roaring fire and a hot cider drink would be the prefect remedy to this miserable day,” Draccus mused to himself.  But he would not allow himself a moment of comfort while he was trapped thus.  So he continued southward wondering if he would lose himself forever to become another mindless creature stalking the woods, empty of the emotion he now carried.

A melancholy mood settled about him so thick that his attitude resembled the storm now venting itself around him.  A feeling of hopelessness and defeat started to eat at him.  This moment of self-pity was short lived however, because suddenly a thought occurred to him.  He faced a critical decision.  He could lay down and just let a slow death, a hollow despair take over and ruin him as a lesser creature.  Or, he could embrace this struggle and fight for a glimmer of hope.  A hope in regaining again his Night Elf form, his honor, and most importantly his forgiveness and redemption.

Draccus was just crossing the Wildbend River, which marked the southern portion of Darkshore, when he spotted a lone figure in the distance through the forest.  This mysterious person had struck camp under a cluster of trees back away from the road.  A leather tarp had been strung between several trees, providing extra shelter from the constant rain.  There was a small glowing fire that sent smoke up into the branches of the trees.  The rising smoke held the sweet scent of salmon fillets being cooked over an open fire.

Many forces compelled Draccus forward.  Perhaps it was the warmth of the fire pulled him in.  The promise of a stolen morsel to appease his empty stomach was too much to resist.  Or maybe the strongest force was something entirely else that he could not grasp.  Slowly he prowled closer in the shadows of the trees until he was fifteen paces from the back of the person busily preparing his evening meal.

Snap!  The ground shifted and quickly his paws were frozen to the earth.  In that one step Draccus found himself in the center of a Hunter’s trap.  A frost trap meant to immobilize its victim.

“Hello there.  I was wondering when you were going to come closer.”  A gentle and measured masculine voice sounded.  The figure stood calmly with his back still facing Draccus, who was still trapped by this talented tactic.  His right hand held a well-worn elven longbow, and in his other hand a notched arrow was resting against the string.

Turning his head towards his catch, the silver in the Hunter’s eyes reflected the campfire’s light.  From underneath his wide brimmed hat he heard an angry feral noise.  He brought the bow fully up now, and drew the arrow back aiming the shaft directly at the source of the noise.

Words would still not form out of his mouth, but with the guttural growl growing stronger Draccus was warning this person.  He would not die quietly, and if given the chance he would not die easily.  The fur on his back stood up on end, despite the rain matting it down and in defiance of his slayer.

A chuckle escaped the lips of the Hunter staring down at the furious animal within reach of his weapon.  He noticed a small wooden charm around the beast’s neck.  He had seen it a few other times; it was a symbol of Cenarion Circle members.

“Elune must be watching over you tonight.  Most other Hunters, especially them belonging to the Horde would have shot first then asked later.”

Not sure of his captor’s intentions, Draccus stilled his spirit to stop the menacing growl, but his sharp teeth were still bared and his razor claws extended out from his paws.  A moment passed where neither moved.

Draccus was locked in place by both the trap binding his feet, and in the confusion caused by this Hunter sparing his life and also speaking to him directly.

The Hunter was motionless because he was not sure how to respond.

“You are Kaldorei, brother, same as I.” The Hunter said tenderly trying to reach the intelligent part of the Druid who was clearly struggling within himself.

Turning his head slightly he exposed a pair of long purple ears in the light of the campfire.  He lowered his longbow and returned the arrow to its quiver.  “I mean you no harm.  My trap was only set to stop any thieves or attackers from sneaking up on me during the night.  I will disarm the trap that binds you if you promise to not spring upon me.  Do you understand what I am saying?”

Speechless and no longer filled with a desire to strike the person that had entrapped him, Draccus slowly retracted his claws and tucked away his bared teeth.  Removing all outward signs of aggression he looked at the woodsman and nodded in agreement.

“I guess the hospitable thing to do is invite you in out of the rain.  But first let us get you free from this trap of mine.”  The Hunter said with a lighthearted tone as he worked the small magical device that had set everything into motion.

“There!  No more ice holding you down my feline friend.”  He paused long enough to watch the Cat shake loose the ice crystals that had formed on his paws.  “Let’s move in closer to the fire and share a warm meal.  From the looks of the clouds and how the darkness keeps the Moon’s light from us tonight, might be best to camp here and decide what we need to do in the morning.”

Draccus walked under the cover of the leather tarp and branches above them, and immediately the small fire’s radiance began to warm him.  Thankfully the ground was dry where this experienced Night Elf had prepared his camp.  The space was large enough to accommodate his form across the fire from his host.  Gratefully Draccus bowed his head in appreciation and started to eat his portion of food.

The Hunter patiently waited to introduce himself after putting away his dishes.  “My name is Wades Quickshot.  A lord of the woods like any of our people.  I have travelled all over this land and even crossed the Seas a few times to distance continents.  Most of my life has been spent living and hunting off the land.  I only go into the major cities to trade and buy any goods I cannot find or make.”

Quickly wanting to show off his skills to his visitor, Wades reached into the breast pocket of his leather tunic and pulled out a small shiny object.  The brass metal pieces were fashioned together in the likeness of an owl. Wades took a unique tool from his hidden key ring hanging on his belt and turned it on the back part of this mechanical bird.


"He may be small but like any good engineering item he works most of the time.  I call him Arti.  Faithful messenger if ever there was one and a gift from a Gnome I met a long time ago."  Holding this marvel of metal, springs, and know-how lightly in his open hand, Wades wrapped a small note around one of the owl's little legs.


"Sending a message ahead of us to Astranaar in Ashenvale.  I know of an old Kaldorei who was once like you my friend, a Druid of the Claw.  Some said he had at one time lost himself completely to the transformation.  But now he lives apart from the community and tends to woods in solace."


Draccus had finished eating his salmon by now and was listening intently.  When this Hunter had mentioned a Druid having once been lost to the wilderness of transformation and able to come back, Draccus raised his head and stared at Wades.  Those words reached him as if they had given him the hope he had faintly prayed to find.


Shifting his feline weight as if he was getting ready to take to the woods again, Draccus was stopped by a raised hand.


"Be still and get some rest.  Tomorrow we will begin our journey into Ashenvale and with guidance from Elune maybe we will find this hermit that shared  in your current challenge.  I will go with you as far as I can."


With the rain steadily falling on the tarp and branches Draccus laid back down.  He waited for tomorrow's dawn as the campfire's light grew softer.  He just might be able to find someone who could help him without judging him for his guilt.


The Saga continues with... Two Worlds Merging

Emerald Elysium- The Druid's Dream Escape

Time had ceased to register the passing moments.  The leaves in their eternal hues of greens, blues, and violets continued to cast the filtered light on the floor below the majestic canopy above.  The wilderness was strange and unfamiliar to any denizen of Azeroth, because this landscape belonged to another realm entirely.  An ageless domain that the very air whispered its' name, The Emerald Dream.


The world teemed with life more abundant and untamed then anything ever seen by mortal eyes.  The vegetation had grown so lush that the foliage sometimes blotted out the clear skies above.  There were other places that the trees stretched upwards so high that the clouds gathered around their trunks concealing the tops from view.  Moss clung to the bark and rocks in patches so thick and soft it was as if they were blankets of nature, places of restful slumber.  Roots of immense size thrust up out of the ground in arches and twisting coils dotting the forest with sculptures of wood.


Near one such outcropping of roots and moss, in the shadow of a tree well over twenty feet across and over two hundred feet tall, sat a young Druid with his feet crossed under him and his eyes staring forward.  Bare footed and alone he had entered The Emerald Dream to find peace.  A place of replenishment and rejuvenation was needed to restore this druid.  To prepare him for the trials still ahead, despite the trial that had recently past.


Draccus Moonsayer had begun this pilgrimage shortly after a period of time in his life that had nearly stripped him of his Kaldorei heritage leaving nothing but a feral beast raging inside and out.  He was not sure how many years it had been since he had been taught and fought under the guidance of Master Icedragon in the ways of the Claw.  There was a singular day in a specific place on an exact moment that he would never forget.  The day he would never forget or erase from his mind was the day blood was shed on the ground and he had taken someone else's life.


He had been sparring with a fellow Druid from another group, both had transformed into power feline creatures of strength and prowess.  Cats at the peak of ability and training, with minds as sharp as the claws they wielded.  The troop of Druids had been taken on a journey to the deep woods of Darkshore by their Masters.  This trip was meant to test and finalize these members of the Cenarion Circle in their mastery of being one with the Cat while maintaining full control.


And so on that cursed day Draccus was called out by a Tauren Druid.  As was custom in allowing a challenger to pick his equal in a battle of the Aspects, anyone could call another out of equal strength or greater.  This Druid's Cat-form retained an earthen color of brown with a deep red mane, as if stained with blood from a prized hunt, and most prominent of the Plains Druid's features were his horns that curved from his skull offering another deadly point to guard against.  Scarrock was his earned named because he left scars on his opponents often and he hit as hard as a rock at a full charge.


Draccus had grown into his full frame as well.  His body of white fur had grown to become a complete extension of himself moving with lightning speed, grace and all the agility of a nature animal of the wild.  The form spoke of the lethality and quick strikes of a giant predator contained within.  However, deeply hidden even from his awareness was a bond of primal fury that was the deadliest of all the attributes when unleashed.


The practiced fight had started like any other duel.  The two Cats faced each other with a distance of ten feet between them, and signaling readiness with a swipe of their paws across the ground in front of them, they commenced their private battle.  Stealth would normally have been an opening move, but that was ignored amongst Druids who were trying to openly prove their cunning and bravery.  Quickly these two closed the space of ground, and they reared up on their powerful hind legs.  An onlooker might have believed they danced the way they embraced, but there dance was a struggle of supremacy.  Gladiators locked in a contest that brought to bear all their training, strength, and will power in order to emerge victorious against their foe.  The dust around them stirred up as they positioned for advantage.  While their forearms and paws were digging into the others' shoulders they gnashed their sharp teeth at the hopes of gripping an exposed area on their necks or face.


Thinking on his feet, swiftly weighing his options against an opponent that outweighed him by two hundred pounds, Draccus realized time was against him while trying to outlast Scarrock.  Ever so slightly he shifted his rear legs by bending his knees, giving away a false message that his strength was fading, but this was just a feint.  A deceptive ploy that worked in his favor, because Scarrock pushed taller and harder in an attempt to pin Draccus to the ground.  In doing so their weight was pulled over, and at the last moment as they fell towards the ground  Draccus surged all his strength into his rear legs again, and tossed Scarrock over and back behind him.  With loud thud his challenger landed on his side and rolled to a stop. 


A toss or a pin was one of the many ways a winner could be determined in a contest like this.  Believing this match was concluded Draccus stood up on all four legs and walked away with his tail swishing back and forth.  As he turned to leave he heard a roar of anger and rage from behind him.  Scarrock had never been tossed like a child's play toy, especially against a purple skinned woods dweller.  He had been shamed and outraged, and all he could think of now was pure hatred and revenge.


Turning just in time, Draccus, caught Scarrock's primal fury at full force as he rushed at him with his horns leading the charge.  Speed was not with Draccus as he attempted to dodge the maddened Druid bent on making his enemy pay dearly for the insult dealt to his ego and pride.  The left horn impacted Draccus's shoulder and the sensation of fire spread as the muscle was pierced and torn along the right side of his body.  Pain washed his vision in an instant, and then something even more terrible occurred.  He let go of all control and gave way for the ancient fury within to take over.


He roared so loudly that the surrounding woods grew quiet, and an alarm reached the ears of his fellow Druids awaiting over in the next grove.  Blind rage overrode his injured limb, and now these two combatants fought with malice and harm their only intent.  Honor and understanding was something left behind in the forms of a Night Elf and Tauren, what remained now was only two feral animals pitted against each other.


What Scarrock had in size and strength, Draccus had in speed and guile.  These two qualities in each of them were now fully deployed in a struggle for life over death.  Brutal swipes from Scarrock rained down on Draccus as he launched in and out of reach after striking the tan colored fur with his teeth and claws.  Both their fur coats were matted with sweat, dirt, and blood.  Draccus's shoulder continued to bleed from the wound; however, he showed no signs of slowing his attacks.  The fighting rose in tempo until their was that one single moment that stopped everything in its tracks.


Life flowed in the heart and blood of each of these Druids both as transformed animals and in equally in their natural forms walking upright.  The one place that channeled this precious resource in such a vulnerable spot was at the base of the neck, and it was there that Draccus unthinkingly with out regard sank his jaws into Scarrock.  He held on and continued to scratch with his claws as the essence of Scarrock drained out of him.


This moment was a cruel act of violence and something only a thoughtless animal would do to another.  Trapped  behind the curtain of the raging Cat, Draccus was powerless to stop himself.  Screaming to stop, he watched helplessly as his animal form took away a member of the Cenarion Circle forever.  His regret was so great, that tears escaped his glowing feline eyes.


Looking up from the now lifeless form he stood over, he watched as the rest of the troop of Druids arrived on the scene.  Still not fully in control, he growled and looked on his friends, fellow Kaldorei and Tauren brothers and sisters.


In front of them stood Master Icedragon, she had a look in her eyes of both outrage over this fight and the waste of a life.  There was also a look of pity for the battle that still raged within her pupil.  Stepping forward she approached the shaken white Cat, and noticing the grievous wound that still bled from his shoulder she stretched out her hand.  As she began to cast a healing spell the air shimmered with magic and there sprouted a ethereal green leaf in the open wound.  The feeling was like the warming of the sun after being submerged in an ice cold stream.  Three times she cast the spell restoring life to the damaged flesh, and then it was as if life bloomed and there no longer was a gaping hole.  The spell completed and the glowing leaves faded away like dust.


Draccus was at a loss in how to regain control, the words to transform back into his natural self would not come to his mind.  So filled with conflicting emotions and thoughts, he looked for a place to hide from their stares and his Master's judging eyes.  There was only one choice that both his feral instinct that still coursed through his veins and brain and the Night Elf within him could come to accept, he ran.  He ran from the guilt, he ran from the regret, but mostly he ran from having lost control of a beast that was within himself.


The Saga continues with ..... Emerald Elysium- Into the Wilds

Part 2: Figuring Out The Feline Within

The small band of newly arrived night elves followed their recently appointed Master and teacher into the sacred village of Nighthaven.  This place was shrouded in magic and history that spanned eons, the very air stirred with the currents of nature and arcane powers mixing, waiting to be called upon.  The structures that made up this unassuming village numbered around eight in all, and each building was created with the simplicity and functionality of a training center, while also serving as a secluded retreat for the Druid Circle's members to rest in.


Quickly Draccus, Lannika, and Lorenn were ushered into a building that clearly served as resting quarters for the beginners and apprentices of the life long studies in being a Druid.  There were already a couple of bedrolls and belongings spread out that their owners had left behind.  They deposited all their personal affects and meager weapons in their allotted cubbyhole near their bedrolls.  Cleaning off the days sweat and dirt in a small bowl of water, they then changed into the simple robes of grey cotton cloth tied with a leather strap about the waist.  As quickly as they had departed they rejoined Master Icedragon outside and proceeded to a ceremony of great importance. 


They did not know what awaited them in a few short moments; however, their lives would never be the same.  Neither of these three wide eyed pupils spoke a word as they slowly made their way over bridges that spanned the waterways atop this bluff towards the spot where other smaller groups of night elves had gathered.  In each small group of night elves there was a ratio of one elder druid that served as personal guide and instructor to three younger inexperienced night elves.  All of them were starting off on a journey many had traveled before them.  The was a deafening silence that weighed over the gathered crowd.  At the head of those kneeling quietly stood a druid named Logannar. 


This venerated druid named Lognnar had held the position of Initiator and trainer for so many many centuries that he had even seen some archdruids kneel before him as they passed this stage of their life.  His privileged place among all the Druid was one where he bestowed the power of transformation, shape-shifting into the different aspects of nature as each druid was ready to take on that respective form.  This evening those before him would receive the gift and blessing of the Aspect of the Claw, specifically the form of Cat.  Turning into a powerful and sleek feline animal, but with no knowledge and experience in how to harness this indwelling of the cat-spirit and form they would need guidance and control.  To master this initial step before gaining further communion with nature's forces was required of all that wished to be counted as a druid in the Cenarion Circle.  Each bond and act of shape-shifting that an individual druid gained brought him or her closer to nature and the powers that came with that responsibility.


At last the time had come for the rite of passage to commence, with the full moon in the sky the prayers of thanksgiving and petition rose from those gathered.  As a people the night elves gave praise to Elune The Mother Moon, who faithfully watched over the races and creatures on all of Azeroth.  She blesses all and casts her light down upon the land from the moon often referred to as, The White Lady.  The Druids also were calling out to and asking for Cenarius, Lord of the Forest, to bring these young kaldorei a gift in the form of transformation.  For several minutes their chants rose on the breeze of the night, ringing pass the forests of Moonglade to reach the very heart of Kalimdor and beyond.

As Draccus knelt besides his brothers and sisters he kept his eyes forward.  While staring into the Augustine grass covered ground he began to feel a stranger sensation throughout his body.  His dark skin started to itch where spots of ivory hairs sprouted from once naked skin.  He felt the forces of magic working through each fiber of muscle and the nerves sparked with new life as he fell to the ground bearing his weight now on his forearms and knees.  Where his hands had once been there now was a pair of large paws with razor sharp claws digging into the soil, and his feet were now paws of equal size supporting his weight off the ground.  White fur now covered this new massive physical body of his from head to tail.  A tail that swayed back and forth helping establishing balance, an odd new appendage, seemed to have a life all its own.  There was now a strength and power welled up deep within him, something primal he had never before known existed.  For a split second his vision blurred as he gained the new eyes of a hunter, a predator of the shadows.  The narrow slits in the golden orbs now allowed him to see the smallest of details and pierce the darkest of places.


All noises from the other night elves had ceased completely.  The sounds of the woods that his ears had been keenly attuned too took on new clarity and sharpness.  Slowly regaining his senses and the awareness of those around him, Draccus tried to speak out for reassurance.  All that came out of his throat was a muffled mixture of a growl and a whine.  Shocked by this sudden lost of communication, he looked past his nose to see several other large cats gathered around him in equal awe and dumbfoundedness at their state.  The scene looked as if all the night elves had vanished and in their place stood a pride of large cats of varying shades of color.


The only night elves present were the elders that had not shape-shifted, which included Logannar, Icedragon, Furystorm, and Eveningclaw.  The last two elders where the ones that were in charge of the other two bands of cats mulling around the group.  The total count of newly shape-shifted druids came to be nine students and three Masters.  A rather large group for training this time, because normally there would only be one to three night elves that would enter into Nighthaven at a time seeking instruction and guidance into the ways of the Druids.


The wise and experienced Instructor Logannar stepped forth among the confused and disoriented druids that could not speak for themselves and addressed them with words of comfort.  "Be at peace my brethren and sisters, for tonight Cenarius has heard our calls and granted you a mighty gift.  The forms you now hold are not forever a prison entrapping your native physical bodies and your voices are not lost."  Having addressed those surrounding him, he motioned for each leader of their pack to produce three unique and enchanted charms and place them over the necks of their charges.  Immediately these items became soul-bound to each person, and no one else could ever use or remove these tokens from around the necks of these night elves.


Without words Logannar continued to reach out to the assembled druids, "What you now wear forever around your necks is a charm that enables you to share your thoughts and voices clearly with other druids as if speaking them aloud.  This is a shared link even stronger then what our people have as a race.  You will find the need to communicate with one another instantly vital in the coming battles you face and the trials ahead.  Remember you are not the simple creatures of the wild, but powerful forms capable of attacking and protecting just as well as any animal would, yet with a mind and spirit of a druid, a night elf.  Do not forget your heritage!"


"Has there every been a druid that was lost to this new form, turning wild from powers beyond their understanding or control?" Draccus asked honestly with his thoughts, not sure of how the endless flow of magic that now coursed through his veins would ever be contained.  With the heads turning his way, he realized that his question was heard by all gathered, and he dug his paw into the ground to avoid the staring yellow and silver eyes.


Looking on this brave night elf that had asked a sincere concern without reserve, Logannar answered him gently, "Yes, young One of promise, sadly there have been cases where the forces of nature were to much for one druid to handle and they were overcome with feral instincts.  With no other actions to save what was left of the druid's mind, we gave them over to the care of nature for the remainder of their long lives.  Those lost few now roam parts of the wilds in Feralas and a few wander aimlessly in the woods of Ashenvale.


"But do not fear that fate Draccus Moonsayer or any other here that do not yet fully understand this period of life.  For with the help of your Elders and the guidance of the Druids of Circle you will gain a level of control and awareness wielding this form as naturally as your night elf bodies.


"Tonight you all have gained and experienced much for the first time, it is now time to resume your natural bodies and get some rest.  The initial transformation drains your bodies of the energy and strength you will need to test out the full range of capabilities you now can call upon." Logannar then shared with them the thought that unlocked the shape-shifting reversal, and returned them all to their original selves.


The weary night elves now stood upright again dressed in the simple robes that they had worn to the ceremony but a few hours ago.  Still not many words were spoken between the young night elves, because they realized that they had been brought into the Cenarion Circle but that there was much to still be learned.


"Be quick to get your rest fellow druids," Logannar called back to them as they departed back to their resting quarters, "we gather again at dawn to begin our first lesson in the hunt.  And the prey knows how to fight back."


The Saga continues with....Emerald Elysium: Druid's Dream Escape

Part 1: The First Experience With Cat-form

The daylight was settling into its cycle across the sky quickly.  Rapidly nature was foretelling the signs of the coming day.  The temperature of the air was climbing out of the coolness of the night becoming a muggy heat that drenched everything it touched.  The shadows receded increasingly deeper into the woods, where three pairs of eyes scanned the world around them.


"Do we want to cross the forest floor to the lake's edge" Draccus asked to his two kaldorei sisters, "and then swim the immense lake we just flew over, or shall we traverse the emerald hued woods around its shores?"


Lannika thought through the choices presented to them for a moment.  On one hand they could swim the waters in a more direct route towards Nighthaven or they could travel together through the woods with speed.  The words of Draccus's father still fresh on her ears and in her mind reverberated with a challenge, "Through these woods you must travel to the safety of Nighthaven.  This is the first test you must pass and survive."  She had never been one known to back down from a contest, whether mental or physical.  "I say we take the way of the woods, but if you want to splash about in the water like a fish Draccus you go ahead.  Us ladies will stay dry on land."


"Your loss Lannika, I just thought you could use some more swimming lessons while I beat you in another race of endurance."


Listening to her two companions banter back and forth, Lorenn leaned down to tighten her leather moccasin boots that she wore in a manner fitting a long distance runner.  Then she stood up and pulled the straps around her waist and leggings to bunch the fabric of her robe in place.  Taking a small pouch of water mixed with crushed berries and ground up beans out of her belt bag, she tilted the contents of nourishment back.  "You two can either come with me across this foreign land, or try swimming the unknown depths of the lake.  But I am going to make some headway against this heat and sun, until we stop for a midday meal and a short rest."  And with that she took off at measured pace.


"Guess it is to the woods for us then, just hope I brought my trackers boots with me."  Draccus laughed and began fumbling through one of his enchanted bags on his belt where he kept the few gear items he had in his possession.


Lannika like Lorenn had planned ahead and pulled up her robe slightly to reveal her own moccasins firmly wrapped around her feet.  "Guess I will be the one to win this race between us.  You might be quick of wit and study, but I am quicker afoot."  At that parting comment she took off in a sprint to catchup to her other friend, leaving Draccus to don his bare feet.


After a few hours of running between the trees and the open patches of ground they briefly stopped to drink down a traditional porridge of mixed berries, nuts, and spring water to give them strength for the rest of the day.  With so much energy and excitement they passed on napping under the bows of the trees and continued onward.  Traveling together at a decent pace around Lake Elune'Ara the trio came within sight of Nighthaven just before evening.  A flood of violet and deep blues colors stretched out across the sky pushing the bright light of day back, in an unending dance of time.


Nighthaven, the center of the Cenarion Circle Council, where all druids from across the plains to the deep groves of the forests came to be instructed and take part in the initiation as a rite of passage to the community.  This small city rested up on a bluff over looking the Lake and the beautifully designed structures appeared in the twilight hour to grow up naturally like the surrounds trees.  Little had been said to prepare Draccus, Lannika, and Lorenn for the trials that lay ahead and the growing questions on each of their minds.  The most dominant thought  was of what they would learn and become while under the teachings of the Druids of the different Aspects.


A pair of yellow eyes stared at the young night elves from the shadows nearby.  The creature was stealthed and in a crouching posture with her purple fur standing at attention, and from behind she had a clear aim at the back of the male standing in the rear of the group.  This feline beast was no mere animal on the hunt, but a lesson soon to never be forgotten.


Directly behind Draccus he heard a twig snap and then the wild growl of a beast.  He turned just in time to see the panther-like menace leap up in the air and descended with all its weight onto him, with razor sharp claws reaching out.  With no time to swing his quarter staff around and go on the defensive, he braced himself to wrestle the powerful cat that dared to attack so close to a druid sanctuary.


The impact of the beast knocked Draccus back, while not losing his footing, he stumbled and felt the paw of the assailant swipe across the front of his leather vest, which absorbed what otherwise would have riped his flesh open if exposed.  This engagement happened in the blink of an eye it seemed.  And the two circled each other carefully now, measuring each other.


The two females turned and began to withdrawal their weapons from their sheaths to silence this offender of their companion, when they heard a clear voice command them.  "Stop what you were going to do!  The male must learn a dire lesson to never turn his back exposed to the wild or on an unknown foe.  Lady Icedragon is only demonstrating what a mindless beast would have done."


The Moonglade Warden stepped out from the shadows of another nearby tree and stood with Lannika and Lorenn as they watched the two combatants cease in their dance and stare at each other.  "Allow me the honor of introducing to you the recently returned to Moonglade, Lady Icedragon Moonfrost.  Although she has specialized in the Aspects of the Claw as well as the Keepers of the Grove, she like all druids have a firm grasp and appreciation for the other Aspects and forms we can become."


One moment before them there was a strong, powerful and large Cat, and the in the next moment there stood a tall night elf woman dressed in full armor.  The change between the two forms happened with no real signs of the transformation other then a swirling mist that disappeared as quickly as a breeze.  The night elf woman had long green hair that pooled around her neck, and she bore tattoos across her face as if permanently covered in war paint.  She carried a decorated staff in her hands, but not the weapon of a caster, instead this strong tool of hers imbued her while in her feral forms with great strength and agility of the animals she took on.


The woman who had been a feline hunter moments ago looked down on her new charges now.  They would learn and become cats themselves.  As mere cubs they would stalk and hunt under her guidance and follow her example of carrying out the swift kill of a prey.  She would teach them to blend into the shadows as if never there, and then spring upon their foes with speed and grace.  The four-legged beast would become another extension of their consciousness, moving and thinking as one.  She quietly laughed to herself as she lead her new pride up the path into Nighthaven to the Druid that would bestow upon these young night elves the power of Cat-form, but it was she that would teach them how to truly be one with the Cat-form.


The Saga continues with....Part 2: Figuring Out The Feline Within

To Moonglade For The First Time

The previous night was slowly coming to a close as the predawn light began casting softer and lighter shadows on the land below.  The air was full of dew and the coolness still chilled the small band gathered on this early hour.  The sounds of life then were both stilling and awakening, some to surrender the day away while others gained in volume to greet the morning fresh.


While most Night Elves would normally be retiring to their dwelling places for a restful slumber away from the sun rays, there were a few that remained active during the day.  The sentinels kept an ever vigilant watch against the wild animals or a malevolent intruder during the villages' rest.  The gathers toiled in the bright world taking in the needed resources for food and other uses which only were in bloom during the sun's sovereignty of the sky.  And then there was our band of Night Elves gathered on the edge of Mount. Hyjal along an outcropping of rocks.  This ledge afforded a magnificent view of the world below.


A trio of hippogryphs with their azure blue and fire orange feathers obediently awaited their master’s command nearby.  These silent creatures of power were a cross between a giant eagle in their wings and talons and had a pair of horse’s hind legs.   As well as hinting of an old intelligence with subtle magical properties, they were both wild and tame at the same time.  The flight capable mounts had been relied upon for ages for their natural sense of direction and keen ability to keep their charges safe in all conditions.  Out of the wild they had been summoned for the task at hand; to travel with the six Night Elves upon their backs to Moonglade, a sacred land.

Out of the band gathered three of them were a young lord and two ladies of the forest, Draccus, Lannika, and Lorenn respectively.  They stood dressed in the simple garb of apprentices ready to embark on a journey of unknown length.  Behind them silently stood the three proud fathers, watching the anticipation climb in the hearts of their children.  The Changling Cycle had lasted but a short while, and yet here stood these three ready to begin a new chapter in their lives.

A russet colored vest hung loosely over the plain white shirt that Draccus had hurried to put on during the previous night as he parted from his mother, Lady Galdrian.  It had been a gift from one of the village's leatherworkers, an elder named Thornclaw.  The artisan had said it would protect the wearer from any scratches or cuts he might encounter.  Tucked in one of the inner pouches of the vest, was a gift his mother had given him.  Wrapped in cloth and tied securely with twine was a handful of living seeds, their use still hidden from her son.  She had given them to him to be used only for the most critical injuries and only after a Restoration Druid had instructed him on their proper casting.

The young lord also wore a belt that had been enchanted to hold six bags of varying sizes, to hold what food and water he needed, as well as any treasures he would discover along the way.  His pants were the style of a hunting party's leggings.  The design tailored snugly against his skin allowing for ease of movement as well as the breathing away the sweat from a long run.  Dark colored cloth had been cut to replace the pants he had worn out while exploring the woods.  The hem of the pants stopped halfway down his shin leaving his bare feet exposed.  Over his back he slung a quarter staff made from strong oak and notched at both ends, it height was nearly that of his own.

The two lady Night Elves, Lannika and Lorenn, both wore robes fashioned from a durable weave of hemp and silk to give a toughness and beauty reflected in the same material.  The hues each had chosen to wear were subtle differences from one another, reflecting the personality of the adorned.  Lannika had decided to bare the colors of twilight purple on her gown, denoting the ever changing mood and readiness to spring from the shadows.  Lorenn had gone with a traditional dye of deep rich green, matching the foliage of the surrounding plants, as if blending into them.  Appearing the gentler of the group with their physique and dress; however, they were just as formidable as the men.  A stranger would have been mistaken in their underestimation of these two young Night Elves, because in their hands one held a razor edged dagger and the other a one-handed mace.  Weapons of combat and usefulness they rested in hands that had been shown how to use them swiftly.

"I hope I have everything on me that I will need" Draccus spoke aloud, " of course that is not much.  In the way of possessions what I leave another can use, and whatever need may arise a source will be found to meet that need."  Confident in his abilities to scavenge off the land for what may be needed, but internally hoping to not go without.

Farethilus Moonsayer responded to his son's comment, "What you have with you now is all that you make take along.  Anything else will go to someone else in the community that will care for it as it was done before you."

After saying this final statement, he reached into a bag on his belt and pulled out a small family pendant.  There was a metallic crest consisting of a half sun mirrored by a full moon and encircling the jeweled piece was a wreath of thorns and leaves creating a semicircle band.  Ever so quietly he passed this precious trinket into Draccus's bag to remind him of his heritage.  A father's love for his son wanted to keep him close, but a stronger love wanted to see him go out and fulfill the promise on his life.  This could be a final goodbye.

"Did you not pack before last night's festivities?" Lannika asked Draccus with her usual friendly, questioning tone.  She had her affairs in order since they had learned of the adventure awaiting them weeks ago.  "What about you Lorenn?  How long have you been ready to go to Moonglade?"

Lorenn silently shrugged her shoulders, and adjusted the pack she carried with her.  Knowing that this was a time of change, a time of goodbyes with loved ones, she did not respond with the same enthusiasm as her companions.  Part of her would miss the secluded life of learning and playing in the shelter of her family lodge and the people she had come to know in these few short years, but as with all things she must grow.

"The time has come for us to mount on these trusted beasts of the air and descend into a new world for you three!"  Farethilus spoke with a firm authority in his voice to the rest of the party, while a silent burden not expressed passed through his mind.

Taking hold of the reins to each hippogryph the patriarchs with their kin holding on behind them brought their steads to the edge of the mountain.  Allowing the half birds to stretch their long wings a few times and prepare for the joys of soaring.  With a slight motion of the hand the group was off.  Over the edge they went with the talons letting go of the earth at last, the motion of gravity melted away and the rush of the wind rushed passed them.  Still high above the canopy of trees surrounding the perimeter of Moonglade and with the waters of Lake Elune'Ara shining back at them, the light from the sun forced the Night Elves to shade their eyes to adjust to the brightness all around them.

Off in the distance an outpost could be seen made up of several structures.  "Is that Nighthaven, the center of the Cenarion Circle Council, where the Druids are trained and where all come for rest?" Draccus asked with wonder as they continued downward in the gentle current of air.

No one replied to his inquiry.  The band that had been soaring gracefully along suddenly banked sharply away from that spot on the edge of Lake Elune and headed towards a more secluded spot of ground.  Once again under the cover of the massive trees a haze of mist and lime green light filtered through the canopy above.  Upon their landing the ground revealed it was covered in more vegetation then they had ever before seen.

They came to rest on a grassy knoll and there they all dismounted from their flying steeds.  The three elders looked once more on the younger three before them.  For several breathes there was nothing but silence between each individual.  A change had come over the eyes and expressions of the three older Night Elves, a hardening and almost disconnecting like air towards the unsure and younger members of their households.

"Here there are dangers and challenges that you all must face, individually and together" Farethilus said bluntly, "for you are no longer babes guarded over by the Sentinels of your homeland.  Your lives depend on cunning, bravery, and most of all working together.  Through these woods you must travel to the safety of Nighthaven.  This is the first test you must pass and survive.  In order to learn more of the ways of the different aspects you must prove yourselves worthy."  And with that the elders mounted their charges and rapidly ascended through the trees and disappeared out of sight.

Left alone for the first time in their lives, the sounds and movements of the forest began to slowly shake the shock off Draccus, Lannika, and Lorenn at being dropped off and told they must survive on their own power.  Gathering what meager belongings they had with them, they set off into the woods to face a new day.



The Training Grounds of Moonglade Forest

The Saga continues with....Part 1: First Experience With Cat-form