(2024-01-05) Druid Convocation

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Author:	Alli
Summary:	Archdruid Fandral Staghelm has called a convocation of the Cenarion Circle, where dire news is shared!
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: War Against the Nightmare

Archdruid Fandral Staghelm has called the druid convocation to meet at the base of Teldrassil, rather than the usual location of the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus. Druids, not being particularly organized or punctual by nature, begin filtering into the designated area by ones, twos and threes. There are many, perhaps more than there have been at any recent gathering, and a few of those milling around stand out from the others.

A dour green-haired woman stands talking to a man with a shock of white hair and pale purple skin. Elerethe Renferal and Naralex, two druids who had met after failure in the renewal of land. Elerethe had meant to safeguard the flora and fauna of the Alterac Valley from war - she had failed, but she was still determined to restore the valley. Naralex had sought to heal the Barrens, with mixed success. He had brought many oases into being, before he and his followers had fallen into some kind of twisted nightmare. The Archdruid had since bidden him to cease his efforts.

Two others wander in together, an unlikely pair - a tauren and a night elf man with antlers arcing out of his forehead. The first is Hamuul Runetotem, the highest ranked druid among the tauren people. The other is Broll Bearmantle, a man who seems somehow a little uncertain among the throng of other druids. Perhaps because he has only recently returned, having fled the Circle in grief after the Third War.

Another pair wanders into the crowd, a tall, proud, well-groomed man with long purple hair - Cerelar Dawnshadow - and his daughter Florande at his side, darting hopeful glances up at him as they join the crowd.

The Taurens

Eldau Cloudchaser arrives early. He's wearing a simple, Tauren made beige robe, and holds an even simpler wooden staff - he likes to travel light. He joins the crowd, letting out one strong, loud breath from his nose, shaking his nose ring.

Looking around in awe, a brown and white Tauren joins the gathering. Maysa Moonshine, a golden flower tucked into her hair, stays a safe distance from the kaldorei, out of respect, more than hostility.

Eldau, standing right in the middle of the kaldorei crowd, spots Maysa, and waves her over.

Maysa ducks her head shyly, but moves to join Eldau, fidgeting with the strap of her herb sack. "It's so big," she says. She is probably talking about the tree.

A male with a tan hide, dark brown mane, and forward-facing horns looks around a bit nervously and quickly moves to stand with his fellow tauren, thoughtfully stroking the long braid that descends from his chin.

Eldau, confused, looks around. What is she talking about? "What is? Not me, I hope." He winks. He then turns to look at Veln, raising his hand in greeting. "Now, I don't know if I've ever met either of you, but regardless, you'll have to remind me of your names."

"Veln Featherstep," says the tan bull whose surname is surely either metaphorical or ironic, given the size of his hooves.

"Maysa," the brown and white Tauren replies. "Maysa Moonshine. And I meant the tree, here. I have never been to this place before."

"Isn't this Alliance territory?" Veln says very quietly. Despite the deep bass of his voice, he is capable of speaking surprisingly softly.

The light brown tauren nods at the two of them. "Maysa, Veln. Very well." He nods wisely. "This won't be the last time you'll have to remind me. I'm Eldau Cloudchaser, but if anyone else here asks, it's Eldau Wildmane. Not everyone gets to use my last name, you know?" He smiles kindely to Maysa. "I assume you haven't seen Mount Hyjal, back in the day. That one? A sapling," he chuckles. It's a 'ooh, ooh', kind of chuckling noise.

He lets out a 'hmm' sound, as he stops to think. "Truth, I haven't been here before either. Let's consider ourselves lucky to see this place, before they begin ruining it by spilling out bad news," he chuckles again.

The Kaldorei

A kaldorei woman in deep purple robes, her face covered by a hood, takes her place towards the back, almost as if she is not certain she wishes to be here. At the very least, she does not seem to want to be recognized.

Wyriel wanders in, a little green dragon curled up around her shoulders like a scarf.

A huge man with deep purple skin and bright green hair lumbers into the crowd. He catches Florande’s eye and offers a little wave and a smile. His eyes are calm and warm.

Florande straightens up a little and beams at him, waving back.

A moonkin waddles their way through the crowd, bells and trinkets jingling from their antlers.

A kaldorei druid with long midnight-blue hair, wearing ceremonial antlers as many druids do, approaches the edge of the gathering, looking solemn and slightly skittish. He studies Bearmantle from a distance, and his expression softens slightly as he does so, but he makes no move to approach him or anyone else.

Thorn raises a hand and flags him down, “Caspis! So old Staghelm managed to wrangle you here too has he? You’ve been working harder than most out in the East.” He lets out a big resonant belly laugh, "Harder than I in any case."

The slight flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of Staghelm's name quickly fades in response to the man's geniality. He does not smile, but the lack of appropriate lines on his face suggest that this is simply not a thing he does. His voice is warm when he speaks.

"It is good to see you," he says. "Do you have any idea what we've been called here to disc" He stops, corrects himself. "to hear?" A pause, and then he adds dryly, "Something tells me that discussion will not be encouraged."

“Bah!” Thorn laughs again, “Still as pessimistic as ever, not that I disagree.” He walks over and claps a giant fist on his shoulder, “But I’m afraid I’m as clueless on you about this one. Progress has been slow in restoring the wildlife in the Plaguelands, though a little bird told me you may be on the verge of a breakthrough.”

Caspis seems comfortable with the shoulder-thumping, and even raises a hand to gently pat the fist before it withdraws.

Florande pats her father on the arm and heads over to join her shan'do and friend. "Breakthrough?"

"Possibly," he says. "Anareline and I are trying to organize an official presentation soon. As for tonight… I suppose we shall simply have to wait to find out."

"Hmph. Too true." Thorn smirks and nudges Cas with an elbow, "Let's hope this is just an announcement that Furion is waking up and taking charge again." He jokes, but his eyes betray that he's quite aware that this meeting was not likely called for something so positive.

"Ahh, if only…" Cas's gaze drifts off into the middle distance, his expression bittersweet. Thorn has seen Cas 'check out' mentally like this many times by now; one can safely assume he'll probably be back in a moment.

The pale-furred, wolfish cat prowling among the druids may be an unexpected sight at an occasion full of so many people. Imrolane is rarely seen at Teldrassil at all, save for the occasional glimpse of her slipping in to see Staghelm every few months or so. Her visits have become less frequent, as Northrend took her so far away. Not to mention, she feared the Archdruid might have begun to suspect her intentions were not entirely honest.

The Meeting Begins

A druid standing by the trunk with a goat’s horn plays two blasts, and the druids begin to fall into silence.

As the horn blows, Imrolane pads up to Caspis's side, giving her thero'shan's thigh a rough nuzzle, like a pet demanding attention.

Caspis pets Imrolane without looking, his attention called sharply toward the horn blast.

"I'm very new to—" Veln hears the horn blast and shuts up immediately.

Maysa bites back her response as the horn sounds.

Many in the crowd bow their heads in respect as the bark of Teldrassil cleaves, opening up a gap large enough for a night elf to step forth. Fandral Staghelm comes through the opening, striding out with the bearing of one fully in command of all about him.

His eyes gleam gold as he nods towards many of those gathered. He is clad simply, his upper torso covered only at the shoulders by protective wooden armor shaped like the heads of beasts, his hands covered in protective, open-fingered, woven gloves that extend to the elbow. At his waist is an ornate belt with a great ruby-colored clasp that holds a kilt of long, flowing pieces of bark.

“The forest is the lifeblood of the world,” Fandral intones. “Teldrassil is the lifeblood of the world.”

Many of the druids echo the ritual opening phrases back at him.

Caspis does not.

Cerelar most certainly does. Florande starts to, then trails off as she looks at Caspis uncertainly.

"The forest is the lifeblood of the world," Wyriel says, and skips the second sentence.

Linwel chirps. What? She's a moonkin.

Imrolane just growls softly.

Thorn grunts in response, but doesn't speak the words.

Maysa looks a bit dubious at the mention of Teldrassil being the lifeblood of the world.

Eldau, after exhaling through his nose loudly in frustration (he wanted to know what his new friends were about to say, horn!), repeats the phrases. He doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about them, but he still does the respectful thing.

“I am glad so many of you have heeded the summons so quickly,” the Archdruid says. “I must confirm to you the worst. Teldrassil is ill.”

Many of the druids look at each other with some anxiety. This is clearly not a surprise to most, but it is surprising to hear the Archdruid speak of it so openly. He typically allowed no negative words about his precious World Tree project.

Eldau raises his eyebrows. How we're talking about the sick tree, now? He turns to Maysa and Veln, whispering. "Hmm. I thought he was really proud of sick little tree until now. Something must be going very wrong."

Maysa fidgets. "Um…do we need to replace the soil? Would that help?"

Hamuul looks over at his fellow tauren with solemn eyes, and shakes his head slightly. "I do not think that would be enough."

Eldau smiles fatherly - he doesn't know Maysa, she might be older than him, he just feels fatherly to her right now. "Eh. Worth a try, I say." He knows it's not worth a try.

Imrolane's form morphs as she stands up on her hind legs, assuming her elven shape. She is as pale an elf as she was a cat, clad in little more than scraps of leather to let her white skin breathe the fresh air. "It is about time he faced reality," she hisses to Caspis.

Fandral begins circling among the druids and continues, “Do not dwell in utter despair, my friends. I have not called you hear merely to speak of doom-”

“So there is some hope?” Naralex calls out, interrupting.

“There is more than hope!” Fandral proclaims. “I have summoned you to this place, here at the roots of Teldrassil, so that we may aid the World Tree in its healing!” He smiles encouragingly. “And with Teldrassil well again, we can then return to the focus of our search for Malfurion Stormrage.”

Caspis's face is stony as he stares at Staghelm, arms folded.

"Putting the cart before the horse like the human cubs would say." Thorn mutters to Caspis.

Caspis nods and lets out a low growl of frustration.

The little dragon on Wyriel's shoulders stirs. Wyriel quickly starts petting her and making 'shh, shh' noises.

Eldau sighs. "Aah. Elves," he whispers in Taur-ahe.

"If we are not to replace the soil, what would he have us do?" Maysa asks.

“Yes, the tauren’s question stands," Elerethe adds her voice to the question. "If not soil, how can we aid Teldrassil?"

“With this.” The archdruid extends his hand. In it lies an object that all druids recognize, a small figurine crafted to resemble a rearing green dragon - the Idol of Remulos. It was an artifact that had been used by Broll at the Battle for Mount Hyjal, but there it had failed dramatically and been corrupted, later corrupting a tribe of Thistlefur furbolgs in turn. The Archdruid had declared it cleansed, but…

Imrolane squints quizzically at the idol. She might have been…elsewhere…for that portion of history.

“Archdruid, with the greatest respect… should that really be part of our efforts?” Broll blurts out.

Fandral turns and eyes Broll sternly. “Your worry is understandable, good Broll. Anessa’s loss was no fault of yours. You did what you could to save many lives and beat back the demons.”

Broll looks more stricken than comforted by the words, but Fandral is no longer looking at him.

Linwel makes a shrill whistle as the idol is revealed.

The hooded druid towards the back recoils at the sight of it, her shoulders trembling slightly.

"…" Eldau pauses. He looks at the idol. He looks at Maysa and Veln standing next to him. He looks back at the idol. "All right friends, I don't know about you, but I'm out." He smiles at them, furrowing his brows. "I'm always one to help, and I was willing to, even if his tree is now more of a matter of hubris than anything else." He takes a deep breath, pointing away. "Now, my way of helping is to tell you to not partake in whatever's going to happen now, and to stay as far away as possible."

Fandral does not yet notice the departing Eldau, as he continues circling among the druids. He holds up the figurine, then indicates the World Tree. “Once, we fed it so that it could rise from a single nut to the wondrous leviathan it is now! The effort cost us dear, but the rewards have been manyfold… a new home, food and water in bounty, and protection from our enemies…”

Several druids nod. Naralex backs away a little as Fandral nears him with the figurine.

Veln nods thoughtfully, and speaks again in that low murmur. "I will stay and listen, if only to know more of what the Circle is planning, but I thank you for your counsel and will heed it."

Maysa looks at the idol uncertainly, but keeps her comments to herself for the moment.

Caspis stands with his fists clenched, clearly making a great effort at self-control.

“In giving back so much, Teldrassil left itself open to illness! It now needs us again!” Fandral exclaims. “In return… it will then surely show us the path to finding our shan’do!”

Several druids rumble in agreement.

Florande looks puzzled, and looks over to Caspis and Thorn. "But… it's not like it caught a cold…"

"No. No it didn't little cub." Thorn looks like he's barely paying attention to Staghelm. There's nothing to be learned here today.

Caspis hisses between clenched teeth, loud enough for Florande and Thorn to hear, but little if anyone else. "He's mad. Stark raving mad. Teldrassil is corrupt to the roots. Finding Stormrage is all that matters, as he is the only one who can break the spell of obedience Staghelm has cast on these fools."

Eldau has his hearthstone in his hand, ready to peace out. He looks at his new friends, neither of them leaving. He exhales from his nose, and decides to stay. To protecc.

Wyriel looks to the idol as Fandral Staghelm passes by her with it. "It has been healed," she says, sounding a little bit too surprised about this to be polite.

Veln smiles softly and lays a large hand briefly on Eldau's shoulder. "It is better, do you not think? To at least know?"

“The Dream is quickly being devoured by the Nightmare,” Fandral continues more solemnly. “With no recent word from its mistress, I have forbidden entry by any other after the last foolhardy attempts.” He stares down at the druids, as if daring any to disobey. “For Malfurion would surely want no more lives lost for his sake. Let us begin immediately!”

Linwel squawks in alarm.

"Begin immediately?" Caspis echoes aloud. "No discussion? No consensus?"

Fandral holds forward the idol and it begins to glow with a faint light, and the roots of Teldrassil begin to snake forward to entwine the druids present. Then, as suddenly as it started, the spell stops, and Fandral looks behind the group, his expression distinctly annoyed.

Imrolane places one hand on Caspis's shoulder, the other over his heart. It is something she used to do to calm him, many thousands of years ago, when he was but a wild young boy.

This is probably the only reason he doesn't go Bear and lunge at Staghelm, tbh.

Maysa shifts nervously as the roots move.

Eldau extends his arms in front of the other two taurens, and bares his weirdly feline fangs as the idol begins to glow.

"Caspis is right, Staghelm." Thorn also speaks up, "We should at least have clearer picture of what we're attempting to do before we rush into this."

The hooded druid attempts to follow Staghelm's gaze, though she is still trembling like a leaf.

"In any case, before we discuss that, it looks like we have another distraction," Fandral says, gesturing behind the crowd of druids.

Tyrande Whisperwind strides into the convocation without hesitation, ten priestesses at her back. They wear empty sheathes at their sides and empty quivers on their backs, and they are clad in moonlight-silver robes that stretch down to their ankles. Long, elegant teardrops of silver begin from the middle of their bodices and stretch halfway down, each end encased in a blue orb. The robes are free-flowing and unrestricting - these priestesses are a ready fighting force, despite being unarmed.

Thorn raises his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the high priestess.

Eldau looks at Tyrande and her priestesses, he instantly goes back into a more relaxed position. "Hm. Maybe I was right to stay."

Florande gasps at the pretty priestesses.
“Our presence is not troublesome here, is it?” Tyrande asks politely, answering Fandral’s annoyance. “After all, this is not where the Circle generally convenes.”

“The Sisterhood of Elune is ever welcome,” Fandral says, his voice sharp with impatience. “Although surely a convocation of druids is of little import to the high priestess of the moon goddess and ruler of all night elves.”

“It would not be important, even with its unusual location,” Tyrande says, her expression hardening, “if Elune herself had not revealed to me the dread truth.”

"Mu'sha did?" Maysa asks, perking up. "What is this dread truth?"

Eldau exhales through his nose curiously, his nose ring shaking softly.

There’s a rumble of conversation at this, but Fandral waves them to silence. “Yes, indeed, what ‘dread truth’, High Priestess?”

Tyrande swallows and says, “Malfurion is dying.”

Caspis gasps!

Florande claps her hands over her mouth in horror.

"What!?!" Thorn's usual cool finally breaks.

Imrolane stiffens, hissing through clenched teeth, "What?!"

Maysa covers her face in surprise. "Oh no! Surely not. Can't we do something?"

"Dying? Right now?" Eldau asks in shock, so shaken he's unable to even think of a good question.

Caspis's ears droop, and he looks helplessly at Tyrande.

“That's impossible!” Fandral snaps. “We have kept his barrow den secure and your own priestesses minister to his body daily. There is no reason for such a dire circumstance.”

"Are you calling the High Priestess a liar?" Caspis snaps. Hopefully not loud enough to be heard by Staghelm.

The robed druid whispers quietly, pointing to herself, "Healer…"

One of the priestesses overhears. She looks at Caspis in surprise, and nods her appreciation.

“Nevertheless, there it is,” Tyrande counters. “”His situation has changed. Malfurion is dying, and we must act with all possible haste.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Fandral asks, with a faint hint of scorn.

“It is simple. We must find him, and we must rescue him,” Tyrande says firmly. “All else is secondary.”

"I will aid you," Caspis says, hopefully this time loud enough to be heard by the priestesses.

She nods her head slightly, but doesn't speak.

"Well, if Mu'sha says so…" Maysa says, eyeing the tree with reluctance. Be well, sick tree.

Thorn looks at Tyrande implying that he's with her, but doesn't speak on anything quite yet.

Veln looks to his fellow Tauren. "I should assist Staghelm. One of our people should, if only to keep relations healthy."

Imrolane gives Caspis a squeeze of his shoulder, nodding firmly with a grunt. She assumes it is understand she will be at her thero'shan's side.

"You will save the tree for us?" Maysa asks hopefully.

Caspis strokes Imrolane's hair absently, his manner exactly the same as when he was petting her in cat form. She is his emotional support animal.

"Hm, if you think so. I will focus on Malfurion, myself," Eldau shrugs. "We didn't come all the way here for nothing in the end, hm."

Veln nods solemnly. "I will try."

“I understand your personal concern, High Priestess,” Fandral says, eyeing her. “But his death cannot be as imminent as you say. My druids will heal Teldrassil, and then we will search for him again. We will rescue him, make no mistake about that.”

Caspis snarls softly.

Tyrande glares at the Archdruid, and then her gaze flickers over the assembled druids. She huffs a frustrated breath and says, “I stand by my words, but I will leave you to conclude your meeting, Archdruid.”

Tyrande and her priestesses turn and march away, and Fandral watches them leave in silence for some time. Then he turns back to the others.

"The wild gods may be strong, but they pale before the power of Elune." Thorn states plainly, "I would trust her counsel over even that of Ursoc himself."

Caspis wastes no time in turning his back on the convocation to follow the priestesses.
He has no rep to lose, at this point.

Thorn follows close behind.

Caspis shoots him a solemn, grateful look - it's clear he was planning to go even if he was the only one, but is glad he didn't have to be.

Imrolane leaves Fandral with one last disapproving stare as she resumes her cat form to pad off after Tyrande at Caspis's side. She peers up at Thorn with a little sniff and an approving nod.

Thorn gives her a friendly sniff in return and smiles.

Florande hesitates, and then moves back over to her father for now.

“I believe we have covered everything,” Fandral nods, his voice softening again as he addresses his druids. “I had hoped to begin work today, but I fear our spirits may be unsteady after such ominous purported news. I propose we begin tomorrow. Farewell, my friends. We will heal this Tree!”

The gap opens in the bark again, and the Archdruid departs, leaving the druids to disperse as they see fit.

Maysa sighs in relief as he leaves. "That man is surprisingly intense," she says.

Eldau looks at the two Tauren. "For a meeting, that was, yes." He nods. "Anyway, it was good meeting you,… you two. I'll follow those druids and their priestess, see if there's anything I can do." He pats them both on the shoulders, and makes his way out of the crowd.

Veln gives her a slight smile. "I am a bit nervous about working with him, but I will try my best. Are you going to stay? If not, tell your husband hello for me."

"I shouldn't linger, Haldoom will worry. Thank you though, for keeping me company, and if you need anything, or the tree healing doesn't go as planned, you may write me," Maysa says with a smile.

"Agreed." Veln gives her a little bow, his tail swishing genially. "Safe travels."

Gripping the strap of her herb sack tightly, and keeping her head lowered, Maysa departs.

"Perhaps the High Priestess would appreciate a guide through the Dream," Wyriel says to herself out loud, considering.

Florande overhears Wyriel and scootches over. "But I thought he said none of us could go in the Dream?"

"He cannot forbid me," Wyriel says, blinking slowly at Florande. "Hello, I'm Wyriel. This is Mathondra."

"I'm Florande," she says with a smile. "Pleased to meet you. But why not? Are you very old?"

Wyriel smiles. "I don't know how old I am." It's truly impossible to tell from looking at her. "I was in the Emerald Dream a very long time. It… will be dangerous to return to now, though. For anyone who chooses to disobey his orders."

Florande looks impressed. "I'm twenty-three, and I don't know much about the Emerald Dream. But I think maybe… the danger is worth it. Shan'do Silvershade clearly thinks so."

"Oh, please be careful," Wyriel says, clasping her hands in front of her chest. "You are so brave."

Florande beams at the praise, and then glances over toward her father. He is eyeing her skeptically, perhaps concerned at her choices of friends. Florande ducks her head a little and turns back to Wyriel. "Maybe we should follow the priestesses? They seemed like they will follow Shan'do Stormrage, but I think they might not know all that much about the Dream either."

"Oh, yes." Wyriel turns towards Florande's father and gives him a proper formal bow. There's a brief flicker of Emerald light in her eyes when she straightens, a friendly smile on her face. "Let's go!" she says to Florande and links arms with her, heading towards the temple.

Florande nods eagerly, linking arms and following her friends Wyriel and Mathondra towards the temple, where she assumes her other druid friends also wait.