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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | The team of rogue druids (Florande, Caspis, Thorn, Eldau, Wyriel, Imrolane and Lode) head into the Emerald Dream to seek out one missing Malfurion Stormrage. When they return to Darnassus, Linwel joins to resolve some long-standing problems, though all new problems arise. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
General Shandris Feathermoon waits in the Temple of the Moon, sitting in quiet contemplation in green, healthy grass near the shining moonwell. The priestesses pay her no mind as they move about their temple business, clearly accustomed to her presence. Today, it seems clear that she is waiting for someone, or multiple someones, to be more precise. She looks up as the druids approach.
The pale-furred, wolfish cat pads along the stone path to the temple. As she passes through the entrance, Imrolane stands upright, her form shimmering as she assumes her elven shape in respect to her goddess. Her steps slow as she gazes reverently up at the towering statue of Elune.
For once, Caspis Silvershade appears fully present and focused on the here and now. There is a fierce glint in his silver eyes as he paces along beside Imrolane, one hand absently resting on her white shoulder both in cat form and when she shifts upright.
Florande follows behind, hiding a little bit in the shadow of the ancients. Her expression is one of determination, though she glances nervously at the entrance behind her.
Thorn lumbers into the temple, as calm and unbothered as ever. There is, however, a seriousness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He stands behind Cas waiting for further instructions.
Lode had been avoiding the priestesses for the most part lately, in between struggling to train for Dream entry - something she does not seem to have much natural bent for despite being a quick study, confounded by the more esoteric elements of connecting to it. She's been of generally tolerable manners while this out of her depth.
"Florande, you made it!" Wyriel says, smiling as she steps up beside her new buddy. "Oh, my, look at how grave and quiet everyone is today."
Florande breaks the grave and quiet impression with a bright smile at Wyriel's words. "Yes! I am ready to go into the Emerald Dream now, I think."
Shandris nods at the gathering team. “Are you all prepared now to go into the Dream? Or should I say the Nightmare,” Her expression is bleak. “I would have gone in Tyrande’s place if I could, but I follow her orders. Still, you know it will be dangerous. She does not want to ask anyone else to risk themselves, but… if you volunteer… I think she will need your help.”
Imrolane nods firmly, her jaw set. "Nothing is more important than rescuing Shan'do Stormrage," she says with a clarity rarely heard from her. "I am ready." She looks around at the gathered druids. "We are ready." Apparently she has chosen to speak for all of them.
Wyriel bows her head in agreement with Imrolane.
“Furion has saved us and all Azeroth several times before.” Thorn’s voice booms throughout the room, “It’s time that we return the favor.”
Caspis turns a warm look toward Thorn, not quite a smile, and inclines his head.
Shandris looks over all of them with hope. "Tyrande has a way of rushing in and demanding to take the risk on her own. I am pleased to know, this time, there will be reinforcements. I will arrange for your sleeping forms to be protected here, in case of… interference from the others in the Circle."
Caspis scowls at the word "interference."
Shandris gestures at the soft grass around her, hopefully a suitable place for druids to dream.
Florande takes a deep breath and glances at Wyriel, then at Caspis. She heads over and settles in the grass, preparing to curl up for sleep.
Thorn casually makes his way over to the grassy patch, shifting to bear form mid-step. He finds a comfortable looking spot and plops himself down.
Wyriel picks a spot by Florande and stretches out. The little dragon around her neck is absent today.
Lode melts downward and expands into a shaggy, toothy bear form that she finds more comfortable to flump into the grass on - probably more comfortable period - and circles around a few times in one spot. "First time for everything," she rumbles in a deep growl distorted by a mid-shift larynx and overall lack of humanoid lips.
Imrolane gets down on hands and knees and starts crawling in a circle. Her shift into cat form is almost an afterthought. Finally she settles and closes her eyes, her tail thwapping Caspis once as if to reassure herself that he's still there.
Caspis remains in elven form, lying down on the grass near his shan'do.
Into the Dream
When the druids open their eyes, Darnassus has faded away. For a moment, all around them appears green, lush, living… and then this mirage fades into something that can only be called Nightmare.
The land is draped in a wet, festering substance that bubbles. The beautiful emerald shading has become the putrid color of rot. What trees there are have become deformed parodies of themselves. Their leaves are black, sharp and filled with poisonous stickers. Small, dark vermin crawl over the scabby bark, often pausing to dine on the thick, odorous sap dripping from cracks in the trunks. The ground is covered in small green-black scorpions, sinewy millipedes, finger-sized cockroaches, spiders with bodies the size of fists, and more. The distance is shrouded in mist, where dark shapes move.
"Dear gods…" Caspis growls. "What has he done…"
Thorn emerges in the Dream back in his humanoid form. He looks around to takes stock of the situation and grabs his nose, nearly gagging from the scent.
In her dreamform, Florande yelps. She jumps, as if to recoil somehow from the ground, but this only crunches the insects underfoot when she lands.
Imrolane growls at the overabundance of insects (though, those spiders look pretty tasty) swiping a paw at a roach that skitters too close. She looks up at Caspis and speaks, "It is worse than I imagined."
"How will we find Malfurion?" Florande asks, looking around at how the Dream vanishes into mist in the near distance.
Lode looks initially fascinated by the scurrying things, then wrinkles her nose after bowing her heavy ursine head down for a closer look. "I take it this is not a natural decomposition cycle. What is wrong with these things..?" She looks up when Florande speak. Oh yes, I guess we're here to find that guy and not observe the nightmare detritus feeders.
Cas remains silent, but his hand closes around the fur between Imrolane's shoulders, and his eyes blaze pure fury.
"Old timerrrr," bear-Lode growls at Caspis in his silent steaming, some effort to stir him to the present. She looks among those with more experience in navigating this place.
Florande looks around at the others. "We can't just stay here, though, right? We need to go… look for him?"
"We do," says Thorn, still pinching his nose, "I'm afraid I'm not sure how much help I'll be in tracking him through all this rot, however."
Wyriel stretches, cracking her neck. "Oh, no… it looks worse than when I left it."
"Let's… move on, then…?" Florande asks, trying to shake the 'nightmare detritus' from the bottoms of her feet.
After a short while of traversing the Nightmare landscape, a shape materializes out of the mist. Happily, this one isn’t any kind of nightmarish creature. It’s a half-stag half-elf, with long dark hair and proud antlers arcing out of his forehead. What’s more, he’s faintly transparent, lacking solidity.
“Druids!” the ghostly figure exclaims, relief in his face. “Have you come to join the fight?”
"We have, if a fight is what's on our hands now." Thorn shuffles over toward the keeper, "Is Furion in danger? We need to find him."
"I've not seen Malfurion Stormrage, but a fight we have here indeed. We must hold the Nightmare back." The creature sweeps his hand and seems to sweep back the foul fog from far around. As far as the mist is dispersed, the group can see other fighters - proud ancients of war, druids, dryads and others with ties to Azeroth’s nature and the Emerald Dream. Some wear solid forms, others are in dreamform, and still others bear a ghostly appearance. Some among those last are druids lost in the Dream over the past millennia, their bodies eventually succumbing to death in the barrow dens.
Here, at least, the ground is green grass and the air is not so foul. The reason why is soon made clear. Dark shapes move in the sky above, and then the beat of powerful wings further disperses the nightmare fog to show green dragons wheeling above.
Wyriel cranes her neck to look up. "Oh!"
One, a large green dragon with closed eyes, swoops down to land by the team of druids.
“Reinforcements,” Ysera says in a gentle, melodious voice. “It is dangerous for you to be here, but I welcome you to fight with us. I heard you search for Malfurion. Broll Bearmantle was here not long ago, following the same path. I can tell you that Malfurion has a plan in motion. If we assault the Nightmare directly to rescue him, many of us may be lost, allies we cannot afford to lose. If you would help him, fight with us here. Hold back the Nightmare, as much as we can. Keep the Nightmare Lord’s attention away from him.”
Caspis sinks to his knees at the sight of Ysera.
"My Queen," Wyriel says, and bows deeply to her.
Imrolane lifts her head, baring her throat deferentially to Ysera.
Florande looks awestruck, and she belatedly realizes she should do something submissive. She drops to her hands and knees.
Even Thorn takes on a sudden formality at the sight of Ysera. He drops down to one knee, "My lady."
Ysera does not open her eyes, but she seems to see the obeisances anyway. She lowers her own head slightly in acknowledgement.
Lode's eyes are wide. "Not exactly the kind of fight I was expecting, but yeah that's something we can do."
"Then you are welcome," the half-stag says, looking over the druids. He seems familiar with Ysera's presence. "It feels like years I have been at this battle, but I do not know any longer how time runs in the waking world. This is the only form I have now."
"Looking at the Dream now I'm sorry that we didn't come sooner." Thorn looks around again, not quite able to accept the situation still, "To think that all of this harm has come in only a few short years…"
"This is Staghelm's doing," Caspis growls softly. "His carelessness let the Old Gods touch this place."
Ominous shapes begin to move in the mist.
“To arms!” the half-stag calls.
Lode ducks a little when a green drake soars over, looking somewhat trepidations (for a bear) in Ysera's presence. She gravitates more toward the son-of-Cenarius and moves when he sounds an alert.
From the very mist, shapes begin to coalesce. Although only silhouettes, they bear the semblance of satyrs, their muscular legs akin to those of furred goats and ending in heavy, cloven hooves, and their heads bearing sharp horns that curved back. There are hints of other satyr features, the long tails and beards, the torsos and heads bearing resemblance to night elves. The outlines of their savage claws are quite clear.
The druids, dryads, ancients, and dragons fall into the fight, ripping through the silhouettes with weapons, teeth and claws as they defend the perimeter.
The manifesting shapes of satyrs prompts an immediate deathly snarl, as Lode answers them much like one might an approaching enemy in a mundane dream - with prompt acceptance of the presence of a threat out of nowhere. She barrels in in search of bones to crunch.
Imrolane arches, bristling at the silhouettes. "No…the enemy is here!" Her lips curls back in a savage growl, every muscle tensed. Any semblence of restraint is lost once violence begins. She lunges into battle with a…howl? A howling roar. At least until her fangs sink into the flesh of her hated foe.
Among the fighters present there is a ghostly night elf woman, her translucent skin pink and her long purple hair braided. For those who were around the Circle 400 years ago, she seems oddly similar to Faeryn Umbrafang, daughter of one of Staghelm's supporters, Nedrus Umbrafang (and wanted thief).
To those not familiar with the Umbrafang family, her traits may still seem extremely familiar, as she seems to be the splitting image of Cobalt Company squad member, Iphindra… only in different colors. She throws herself at the satyrs, sending healthy looking-roots to surge from the ground and slam a few of them against the ground.
Florande shifts quickly into bear form, throwing herself into the fight with no hesitation. Shadow satyrs fall under her paws and dissipate back into mist.
Caspis seems off balance as the fight begins, uncertain of his role — too angry to heal, but out of practice in offensive magic. He stands still amidst the chaos, taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to center himself in preparation for spellcasting.
The half-stag nods encouragingly at Caspis, and then rejoins the fight as the dragons swoop overhead breathing death on the attackers.
Thorn wastes no time in joining the fray. He leaps toward the satyrs, turning into a bear mid-jump. His bear form looks a bit different here. It is bigger and the fur is coarser. His fur seems to form little points all over his body as if he is covered in spines, and he even has an almost iridescent green glow to him. He rushes to the fore of the battle and swipes wildly at the enemies before him to free up his allies behind.
The Tauren druid stumbles upon the fight from the other side of the battlefield, wide-eyed. "So that's where the other members of the Cenarion Circle must have been," he mutters to himself. His voice catches the attention of nearby enemies, and as two satyr corners him, he swiftly turns into a brown lion, roars, and leaps at one then the other, ferociously making his way to his allies.
At last Caspis seems to calm, his eyes glowing softly like silver moons. He raises his hands toward the druid combatants, wrapping them in protective magic, and then enhancing their regenerative powers with a wave of luminous green energy.
Wyriel turns into her Tree of Life form, bright autumn-colored leaves shining as she begins to heal her allies as well.
As Caspis stands he slowly shifts, his skin becoming barklike, his feet branching into deep roots that temporarily purify the ground they penetrate. His uplifted arms branch and sprout leaves, his face and hair disappearing into the foliage, which strangely retains the midnight blue shade of his hair.
This is not the ambulatory treant form he has often used in combat with his squad; this is a massive, majestic, rooted tree, a culmination of ten thousand years of study and devotion, and from it emanates a loving aura that helps bolster everyone within sight of its sky-embracing branches.
The battle continues for a time, until there's a change in the way the shapes are moving in the mist.
“Hold!” the half-stag calls.
New figures shift in the misty shadows. When they start to come into view it is clear these new foes are not shadow satyrs or other creatures made from the Nightmare. These are the sleepers. They come from every race, each face akin only in its anguish and hunger. When they move, it is both fluid and with evident wracking pain. Their mouths open in continual shrieks and stretch wider than physically possible. Their eyes are sunk into their skulls, staring with yearning at those who do not share their suffering.
“We cannot kill these enemies,” the half-stag explains, backing away from the sleepers. “Not and leave their waking forms unharmed. We must fall back, surrender this part of the dream. The cost of victory is too high…”
Eldau, having made his way to the other druids, shapeshifts back into his Tauren form. "Did I hear correctly? Are they the people who are slumbering? The ones we can't wake up?"
One of the wraithlike forms is a dwarf with a long, wild red hair and beard; in his contorted nightmare form his entire head seems to be aflame.
One of the nightmare forms is a dark-haired sin'dorei woman. Her grey-tinged skin is as pale as death, and she has blood on her hands.
Within the ranks of the nightmare forms is a giggly Draenei woman, wearing a messy ponytail. She seems to be speaking incessantly, but no noise come from her mouth.
Another nightmare form is that of a wiry night elf woman with a long green braid. Her eyes are a blank sickly green and her right leg is black and withered, with bits of a pale glowing red marking it as well. She limps along with the others.
Florande steps back, shifting into kaldorei, and nods. "We can't kill them."
Thorn slowly pulls back the line, staying in front to cover everyone else's retreat.
Wyriel's form expands, shedding its leaves as she grows much, much larger in comparison to her previous forms - a green dragon, a little on the smaller side compared to some of the older ones fighting with them, but definitely an adult. She lifts a claw and a wall of thick vines grows between them and the sleepers, giving them some space.
Caspis waits until he can see everyone is retreating, and then he retracts his roots from the soil of the Dream and, with a shudder like a man waking from a dream of falling, returns to his elven form and follows the others.
Eldau obeys and retreats, back to his tauren form.
The Iphindra look-alike retreats as well. She runs, bumping into a few Kaldorei as she does. She doesn't care to apologize.
Imrolane seems not to heed the warning right away. She does, at least, seem to be avoiding the sleepers. But she savagely throws herself at every shadowy satyr she can see.
Imrolane's form seem to grow larger with every foe she slays. Her muscles thicken, her fur grows shaggier, her muzzle even seeming to extend until she begins to resemble a powerful wolf more than a feline.
"You must fall back, shan'do!" Caspis calls to Imrolane.
Caspis's words reach her keen ears, and she balks. For a moment she is coiled and ready to pounce on another enemy. But she glances back toward her thero'shan, eyes glowing fiercely. With a heavy exhale, her body diminishes, the wolf retreating…for now. Giving one last growl to the enemy, she dashes back to Caspis's side.
As they retreat, the green dragons swoop down, landing amongst the defenders. Ysera raises her head, eyes closed, indicating with her graceful snout some distant point in the gloom.
“Malfurion’s plan is failing. It is taking too long, and the Nightmare Lord has noticed what he is doing. He must escape, for Azeroth’s sake. We must go to him, we cannot wait any longer. We will fly.”
The green dragons lower themselves to allow the druids to clamber on their backs.
As soon as everyone is safely away, Thorn takes back his humanoid form and clambers onto the back of a dragon.
Imrolane nuzzles Caspis's hand. "Thank…you. I am sorry…" She ducks her head as she slinks toward a nearby dragon.
Caspis follows close behind Imrolane, climbing onto the same dragon she does and wrapping his arms around her as though worried she will fall off of it if he does not. "Thank you," he murmurs to the dragon in Darnassian, "You honor us."
"Of course, his plan is failing," whispers a little too loudly the ghostly Kaldorei woman, as she quickly climbs on top of a dragon.
Eldau climbs a little more difficulty on one of the dragons. He is big and tall and not very agile when not a cat.
Lode looks as equally reluctant to abandon her bear form as she is to make contact with one of the dragons. She hops and distorts, rising, compacting, stretching a wing free from a momentarily confusing twist of shifting shapes, and makes a bid to keep up as a darting bird.
Florande gapes for a moment, looking at the other druids like are we really gonna ride dragons?
Wyriel lowers down next to Florande.
Florande stares are Wyriel for a moment, and then says hesitantly, "Wyriel? That is you… right? Is it okay if I…" Florande looks around, and then back at Wyriel, who is clearly inviting her. It must be okay. Florande clumsily climbs onto her back.
Wyriel nods. "All aboard!" Her voice sounds a little different, but it has that same friendly cheer.
As they fly, searching tendrils of darkness from the mist reach out at them, such that they must dodge and weave to avoid being taken by the Nightmare. After what might seem like hours but could have been minutes, a tableau becomes visible in the nightmare below.
A dark, twisted tree with leaves of black thorns stands in the center of a blighted landscape. Near it are two figures, locked in combat. One is Tyrande Whisperwind, her back to the tree, Elune’s Light illuminating her as she defends it. The other is an orc woman wielding an axe made of wood, less intent on the fight with Tyrande than in finding a way around her to the tree. A raggedy-looking human sits exhausted by the side of this fight, looking on in dismay.
The dragons whirl around the scene, breathing life down into the landscape below. The vermin and rot and reaching fog melt away under their power, until here, too, the ground looks green and alive again, flowers and trees bursting from the soil with shocking speed. Yet, their breath does not affect the tormented tree, and the orc and Tyrande continue their fight.
"Why is the high priestess defending that tree?" Florande calls forward to Wyriel, clinging to her back as they circle the scene.
"One of the greenskins? What's going on here?" Thorn sniffs to try and take stock of the situation and see if he picks up anything.
Eldau looks in worry. "Perhaps I can convince the Orc to sotp this fight… We are allies, after all." He looks at the dragon her rides on, which does not seem intent on going near the fight itself. "Or not."
As the dragons circle the scene, another figure appears out of the mist. A druid in catform, he shifts quickly into the elvish form of Broll Bearmantle and calls out frantically to Tyrande. She is distracted only for a moment, but that is all it takes for the orc to get around her. The orc’s wooden axe bites deep into the bark of the dark tree’s trunk.
"Hmm, perhaps it was good I didn't stop her," the tauren whispers to himself.
"That tree… oh, no." Wyriel swoops closer.
Caspis lets out a fierce cry of rage as the orc's axe bites into the tree, but his grip on Imrolane doesn't loosen.
The tree cries out in a voice that seems sapient - a cry of relief, at last, and not anguish. The black, thorned leaves melt away. The branches shrink and untwist and become once again kaldorei arms. The roots withdraw from the soil, becoming feet, and then finally separate legs. The dark, diseased green burns away to reveal the brilliant emerald of the dreamform of Malfurion Stormrage.
“Mal!” Tyrande shouts. She and Broll rush towards Malfurion, the raggedy human following. The orc simply stands there dumbstruck, with the expression of someone who has just realized she’s been tricked. Many of the green dragons swoop down to land nearby with their druid occupants.
"Shan'do!" Caspis cries in a choked, tearful voice. Is he addressing Imrolane, or the distant Stormrage?
"Furion!" Thorn shouts and sighs, "I nearly thought we arrived just in time to see the end there." He hops down from the dragon's back.
There’s a howl of anguish that echoes through the scene, though it comes from the throat of no one present. It seems to dim the very air, empowering the dark mist around them. It is the Nightmare Lord, trying to prevent the escape of his captive. Dark roots burst from the ground, trying to reclaim Malfurion and his companions.
“No taint of shadow shall be left in my domain!” Ysera calls. “No child of mine left to the Nightmare!” She opens her eyes. The Aspect’s gaze sparkles, and the roots shrink away as from the group as though in fear.
A green dragon calls, “Druids, rescue our allies! Help them up, and we will leave this place!”
“Even the orc,” Ysera calls, gently. “She is an ally, though unwitting.”
Wyriel lands so Florande can help someone else up onto her back. "Come."
Florande looks over the rescuees…. Malfurion, Tyrande, Broll, orc and human. She glances up at Ysera uncertainly, and then helps the axe-wielding orc woman onto Wyriel's back.
Thorn jogs over to the scene, "Who of you needs help? I've got room for two at least." He opens his massive arms, thicker around than most men's legs.
Tyrande has a grip on Malfurion and doesn't seem like she's going to let go anytime soon. "We ride together." The two of them head over to join Thorn.
Thorn kneels down and offers his hands to give Tyrande a boost. He pushes up as she treads on his hand and jumps, sending her and Malfurion with her up onto the dragon's back. Thorn follows quickly behind.
Eldau's dragon lands. "Come, quickly!" He descends from the dragon's back and offers his help to the rescuees.
The human looks up dazedly at Eldau, and then rushes over to clamber onto his dragon's back.
Eldau helps the human up, pushing him up quite easily. He needs a hand from the human to get back up, though, in exchange. Still not very agile in Tauren form.
Lode plummets from the air, rapidly returning to bearform just before footfall, beginning to tear up great heavy mouthfuls of nightmare-tainted vines encroaching on the limbs of Malfurion's rescuers, leveraging all her sense of her own physical strength from the waking world. She moves quickly, ripping at them in concert with the others extracting themselves.
Broll looks around for a hand up from someone.
Lode butts the flat top of her ursine head under Broll's behind and shoves him upward toward dragonback. Rude? Then she flaps upward on her lonesome, content in how helpful she is.
As the dragons rise back into the sky, there’s suddenly the cry of yet another dragon from the mists. In the darkness, there’s a glimpse of a large dragon - Ysera’s consort Eranikus. Hundreds of horrific hands of mist clutch him tight. Within moments, all that is visible is his head, one forepaw, and a wing. He looks to Ysera in fear.
The Aspect reacts. She turns to rescue her mate, only for a moment turning her attention from the Nightmare– and that is when a shadow tree suddenly swells to a terrible size and seizes her. The ghoulish branches engulf Ysera. Before she can even react, they thrust her back, tossing her into the mists.
As it happens, Eranikus lets out a savage laugh. His form shifts… revealing the insidious Lethon, a green dragon fully corrupted by the Nightmare. Lethon’s foul visage mocks the stunned defenders for a moment before the dragon, completely shed of his powerful illusion, vanishes into the mist after the Nightmare’s prize - Ysera.
"No!" screams Faeryn, at the sight of the trickery.
Wyriel roars, looking as horrified as a dragon can look, but her Queen has given her orders. She has a passenger to take to safety.
Florande lets out a wordless cry, clinging to Wyriel.
Caspis lets out an incoherent cry of rage in concert with the others, watching helplessly.
"NO!!!" Thorn bellows. He is about to slam down his fist on something, but manages to halt himself. No dragon punching today.
Several dragons immediately move forward to rescue their mistress, but the Nightmare surges forward again with a ferocity that none could have expected. Like a thousand krakens, tendrils of mist stretch out to seize the unwary. The Nightmare expands like a surging river, reclaiming the land the green dragons had so recently cleansed.
“We must retreat from this place,” says one of the elder green dragons. “We must regroup!”
The dragons fly until they reach a place where the strength of the Nightmare lessens. They purify the land, driving back the mist and the vermin, and settle on the green grass, allowing their riders to dismount.
Faeryn jumps from her dragon's back, and falls to her knees. She hits the ground with her fist. "Damnit! Ysera, she…"
Florande turns to help the orc down off of Wyriel's back. For her part, the orc still looks stunned, but doesn't seem to be violent.
Caspis is weeping silently but openly, his face wet with tear tracks that reflect the silver light of his eyes.
“Yes, they took her. And we have to go back for her!” Malfurion explodes immediately, starting to walk back in the direction of the Nightmare.
A green dragon steps in his path. “This is not the time! She did not give herself so that you would be lost again! My queen emphasized to us just before the attack that you are more valuable to Azeroth than even she and though we had trouble believing such, we must trust in her word now.”
“‘More valuable’?” Malfurion gapes at the dragon. “That’s absurd.”
Tyrande reaches forward and takes Malfurion’s arm. “Malfurion, don’t do this! Listen to the dragons.”
He softens slightly, and then looks around at the others.
"Our people have been lost without you," Caspis says quietly, almost as though to himself, but his eyes are on Stormrage. "Lost."
Wyriel lowers her head.
Thorn is shaken, but he manages to make his way to Caspis' side. He places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. It's not clear if that was for Cas's benefit or his own. It may be both.
Caspis leans into Thorn's hand subtly, gratefully. Compared to the other man the tall, ancient druid is lightweight, almost slight.
Imrolane, in her elven form now, hugs Caspis tightly, arms firmly around him. Though who exactly is supporting who is not entirely clear. She keeps her head low, avoiding Malfurion's gaze; the great druid's mere presence seems to cause her to shrink in shame.
Caspis wraps one arm firmly around Imrolane, leaning down to murmur into her ear, "It will be all right, now. He will find a way to make everything right."
Lode doesn't help the emphasis on lost by landing in elf form and looking generally extremely uneasy and uncertain. Despite her apparent reservations about being near the dragons she is pretty sure what just happened was probably not a good sign.
A guilty expression crosses Malfurion's face. "I never meant to abandon my people. I was… trapped. It took me so long to find a way to escape, and even then…"
The orc stands by awkwardly, and Tyrande turns narrowed eyes on her.
“You stay away from him, assassin,” she snarls, reaching for her warglaive.
“No, Tyrande, she’s not… Thura, I am sorry,” Malfurion addresses the orc. “I needed you to be driven to not give up. I thought vengeance would do it. I am sorry, it was a cruel trick.”
“Why did you make me believe you’d betrayed and killed my kin?” Thura asks in Common, baffled. “Why did you want me to kill you?”
“I did not,” Malfurion explains. “I simply needed your axe. I do not know how you came to it, but that is the Axe of Cenarius. It was the one thing I could see that would free me from my prison, but I had to be careful not to let the Nightmare Lord see the plan soon enough to stop it.”
Tyrande’s angry face slowly changes to a guilty one as she realizes she very nearly prevented Malfurion’s rescue, and that she is the reason the green dragons were required to assist. Malfurion does not address this directly.
Eldau helps the human get down from the dragon's back. "Do you need anything, human? Will you be fine walking? Do you need to speak with someone here? Or help waking up?" Could he even help him wake up? Who knows. He sure doesn't.
"Oh, I'll be fine," the human says, giving a wan smile to Eldau. "I'm Lucan Foxblood, by the way. I’m a bit out of my element, but… I was born here. It’s a complicated story. My mother was abducted by some fey creature, and I only survived my birth by the mercy of Eranikus. We’re bound together now - I have always wandered in and out of this place, as long as I can remember. I'm the one who helped Thura cross over."
Malfurion looks around at the others assembled. “In any case, we must mount an offensive to…” Malfurion grimaces and clutches his torso. “…something is wrong.” His form begins to shift and fade. “It’s my physical body. I can’t stay here, I…” Malfurion disappears.
“Malfurion!” Tyrande shouts, then she turns to the druids. “What happened to him?”
Imrolane gasps, finally looking directly at Malfurion, just before he vanishes. "He…woke up."
"Who guards his body?! In the waking world, who guards his body?" Wyriel sounds alarmed.
"He… what?" Tyrande looks at Imrolane. "But I came here through the Ashenvale portal, I can't…" she turns to Wyriel. "My priestesses, in Moonglade. He is well-guarded."
"We must go to him!" Caspis cries, eyes slightly panicked.
Thorn nods in agreement, "We need to find him back in the waking world quickly. Who knows what this Nightmare has in store for Azeroth."
"Druids!" Imrolane calls out, suddenly standing up straight. "To Moonglade!"
Faeryn raises her eyebrows as Imrolane speaks up. "Yes, yes, go to Moonglade, everyone. Fast."
Tyrande looks around at the group. "You should wake. Find him. Keep him safe. Lucan, you're going to take the rest of us out of the Dream."
Eldau blinks. "Oh, hm. I admit, I'm quite surprised to hear all this." He looks at Tyrande as she speaks to Lucan. Guess he's that used to this place, uh. "Good luck, human," he says, squeezing his shoulder.
Lucan smiles up at him again. "I'm getting used to being ordered around by kaldorei. Just wish I could make a map of this place. I'm a cartographer, you see." He steps over to Tyrande.
Lode doesn't need doesn't need further urging. She tries pinching herself, without much success. "Ugh, someone shake me on the other side or something. I'm still bad at this…" she trails into a mumble.
Eldau fades from the Dream, wakes up in Thunder Storm, and immediately begins teleporting to Moonglade.
Back to the Waking World of Darnassus
Wyriel vanishes from the dream as a dragon and wakes in the waking world in her kaldorei form. She stretches, canting her head from side to side as she adjusts.
When the druids wake, they see that Shandris Feathermoon is not there. Instead, another priestess stands by, visibly fretting.
“You're awake! General Feathermoon said she was going to the Cenarion Enclave. She said something was wrong,” the priestess says, worry obvious in her tone. “She has not returned. Something bad must be happening there.”
"We need to get to Shan'do Stormrage," Caspis says sternly. "Immediately."
"But… General Feathermoon…" The priestess looks like she might cry. "Can you at least fly by there on your way out and see if she's alright?"
"Caspis. I don't like the sound of this. Do you remember who makes his home in the enclave? Do you remember what he tried to do to this tree earlier?" Thorn says in a grave voice.
Caspis nods gravely at Thorn, and then he bares his fangs in a silent snarl.
Florande yawns and stretches, standing up. "We can fly over, maybe? Then to Moonglade."
Wyriel moves over to Lode's body and gives it a shake. "Wake up…"
Lode groggily paws about a bit on the ground and lumbers to her feet, giving her coat a shake, while blearily orienting to the discussion already occurring.
Caspis spots Lode and his expression softens as he moves over and attempts to steady and orient her, one gentle hand on her ursine shoulder.
Imrolane watches Caspis. He'll know what to do. She lingers near him, and even gives Lode a headbump against her thick bear hide.
"Let's hurry, then?" Florande says, heading for the entrance. "So we can get to him right away."
Lode looks mildly befuddled, possibly - it's hard to tell from that beady eyed bear face - then hears the word 'hurry' and begins trundling for the exit from the temple because it's time to hurry. Presumably she has figured out where there will be hurrying to.
Once he's certain all his cubs are accounted for, Caspis does indeed hurry.
The team leaves the Temple of the Moon and flies across to the Cenarion Enclave. It is quiet this time of day, likely because everyone is working on Staghelm’s rituals at the base of Teldrassil. Everything seems ordinary until the team reaches the center of the enclave and the building that Staghelm uses as his own base. It is covered with vines, and in the vines are trapped the unconscious forms of Shandris Feathermoon, Hamuul Runetotem and Naralex.
Two stormcrows swoop down from the sky and land nearby, one shifting rapidly into the form of Malfurion Stormrage.
“We meet again, my friends,” Malfurion says. “So this is the new World Tree. I have never seen a place so tainted by the Nightmare. I…” he trails off in horror, seeing the unconscious prisoners. “What is going on here?”
"Staghelm!" Caspis snarls between clenched teeth.
As if on cue…
“So the legendary shan’do returns to grace us with his undeserved glory,” comes the voice of Staghelm from all around them. “Always the only one who can save the world, because he deems himself the only one. I sensed you and your followers coming long ago and prepared a proper welcome…”
Imrolane roars her rage at Staghelm. All previous pretense of being his creature is now abandoned.
The second stormcrow turns back into a tauren. Eldau looks at what is currently happening in bewilderment.
"VILLAIN!" Caspis roars. "AT LAST THEY WILL ALL SEE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE!"
“Fandral, why are you doing this?” Malfurion looks genuinely confused.
“A villain? ME?!” The voice says in indignation. “These three were a danger to our people! To All Azeroth! He has told me so.” Vines curl back and Fandral steps forward to face the druid team and Malfurion. “It is clear to me that all of you are traitors too. But soon I will help you to join them. You will sleep and dream and wake refreshed, as everyone else will!”
"Arrogant, selfish, deluded child!" Caspis snarls at the air.
Thorn puffs his chest and lets out a low, rumbling growl and his hair begins to stand on end. The normally passive giant looks to be itching for a fight.
"I wasn't going to say it out of respect for being in Night Elven territory but…" he nods towards Caspis. "What he said."
Malfurion takes a step forward. “And what's more, no one will wake! The Nightmare extends beyond the Emerald Dream now! Everywhere save here is siege by its evil, and that evil fills this World Tree!”
“You still dismiss the need for my Teldrassil!” Fandral snarls with sudden ferocity. “But I have done so much with it! It has helped reshape not only our race, but the rest of Azeroth as well!”
“Teldrassil is tainted, Fandral!” Malfurion says desperately. “The Nightmare Lord infests it! Can’t you feel that? Look into yourself and touch Teldrassil’s heart!”
Fandral stares down at him. “I know Teldrassil’s heart better than you or anyone! I have given it my heart, and for that sacrifice, it gave him back to me…”
A shadow creature detaches from the vines behind Fandral, similar to the shadow satyrs we all fought in the Dream. Fandral smiles at it fondly. “Teldrassil has given me back my son, Malfurion. Is not Valstann as proud and handsome as ever?”
‘Valstann’ laughs darkly.
Imrolane paws at the ground, her claws raking through the earth. Her teeth are bared, lips quivering in bestial fury.
Caspis pales in horror as the depth of Staghelm's madness is laid bare. "You fool… that is not your son…"
Eldau shakes his head silently. His fur changes color as he shapeshifts into his feline form. He sit stills, and seems ready to leap.
Lode also looks confused. Why do the people in charge turn out like this? She rumbles in exasperation as the old guys start bickering, then gives a snarl when Fandral's insistant ramblings turn toward something more twisted, fur raised on her back. "He used us," she growls. "Of course he did. For this."
Wyriel stands by Florande, looking unsettled and tense.
Florande's eyes are wide. Her gaze is darting around, like she's looking for someone.
Malfurion takes a step back and looks to the others. “I think it's clear that Fandral Staghelm is lost. The time for reasoning with him is over. We must end this now…”
Suddenly, there is a terrible rumble under their feet. Teldrassil begins to shake.
“I advised him we should wait!” Fandral shouts. “But it seems Valstann spoke the truth! You, Darnassus… all of it… must be cleansed! That’s why I had to keep you out of the way, Stormrage! Valstann and I will show our people the way and they will be the better for it! Teldrassil will be the instrument of a new, glorious Azeroth!”
Fandral’s eyes gleam in triumph as Darnassus shakes as if in the grips of a brutal earthquake. Teldrassil itself suddenly turns against the city. Branches turn to assail every structure. Black, thorned leaves begin raining down, piercing flesh or leaving long, vicious cuts. In the distance, kaldorei scream.
Wyriel drops forward onto her hands and knees and takes on her dragon form again, emerald-green wings stretching out and curving protectively over the druids like a canopy.
“It was you, then, Fandral,” Malfurion says grimly. “When I awoke, my body was full of morrowgrain poison. I did not think the priests would have allowed such a thing, but you… you wanted me to slowly die. Why?”
Florande gasps, and looks suddenly guilty. "I… helped. They were cultivating morrowgrain, with dirt from un'goro… I didn't know…"
Caspis suddenly looks at Florande with absolute rage in his eyes — he tears his gaze away before he says something he regrets.
Thorn clenches his teeth when he sees Teldrassil turn against them. He looks torn between wanting to save civilians and needing to stay here to face off against Staghelm if need be.
Eldau watches in horror, his ears raised, as the branches destroy the nearby buildings. He snarls, keeping a steady balance even with the earthquake.
Thorned leaves rip into Wyriel's wings as they fall, but she holds her ground despite the pain, growling. Still, she waits for Malfurion's orders to act.
“I am saving us from you and others who betray our world!” Fandral says, stepping closer to his ‘son’. “You spoke against Teldrassil’s birth! You know that it would restore our people to their glory and return to them the immortality that was stripped away! I will not permit you to take my son from me again!”
Just then, the druids from below enter the enclave. With them is Broll Bearmantle. With them is also the large tan Tauren Veln, looking uneasy as heck.
Eldau, in his horned-cat form, shakes his head at Veln from afar.
“Very good!” Fandral proclaims to the newcomers. “You have rounded up the last traitor! Excellent work!”
Linwel, in moonkin form, squawks in confusion. She bristles, her feathers standing on end.
One druid says cautiously, “They say you are the traitor, Master Fandral.” One by one, the druids turn from Fandral to Malfurion, surprise and awe in their faces.
“He is,” Malfurion confirms. “You know me. Most of you were trained by me. Look into yourselves and see if you still have faith in my word.”
“The Nightmare has seduced him!” Fandral shouts. “You know how long he has been missing! Great though our shan’do once was, he is now an emissary of the darkness! Heed not his words!”
"It is not ours to decide we are immortal, Staghelm! You are the one who betrayed our people by stealing a branch from Nordrassil and planting a tree over a slumbering Old God… if you had asked the Aspects first, they might have warned you… this Nightmare is all your doing!" Capis shouts.
All patience and restraint is burned away. As Teldrassil turns on her people, Imrolane lets out a howling roar and bounds forth, dodging black vines as they burst from the ground around her. All she can see is Fandral Staghelm, her vision red with rage.
Fandral steps to the side, and more vines explode out from the structure, coiling around Imrolane and tightening viciously, yanking her to be held in place beside Shandris.
"Wait!" Thorn calls out to Imrolane but he's too late. He makes a move to try and free her.
"Shan'do, no!" Caspis cries as Imrolane is caught. Then he turns toward the others, eyes blazing. "Druids, feel no pity for this broken man, for his being duped by the Nightmare - without his arrogance and refusal to submit to the wisdom of the Aspects there would be no Nightmare! Seize him!! He is the enemy!"
“So many traitors,” Fandral says, staring at Caspis, eyes unblinking. “But I have prepared for treachery from any of you. One way or another, you will all serve Teldrassil and its purpose! You have all breathed in my spores, you have already lost.”
Fandral gestures, and almost all of the druids feel a sudden pain in their chests. One of the druids who turned towards Malfurion screams as vines start erupting from his body, leaving deadly wounds. A small subset of the druids move over towards Fandral, unaffected, Cerelar among them. Florande watches him in horror as she doubles over in pain.
Malfurion makes a gesture of his own, and coughs something up onto the ground. He turns to the others.
“It is like a poison,” Malfurion says, looking frantically around. “Help one another, you must expel it. Look into me, see how it must be done.” Malfurion opens his own mind, offering to connect to all the druids present.
Wyriel barely wavers. Either the spores have little effect on her in her current form, or she has cleansed them from herself already. She's busy getting struck by sharp leaves and thorned vines.
Caspis writhes in agony, but calms at the sound of Stormrage's voice, closing his eyes and trying to join their minds.
Malfurion accepts the connection with Caspis, and with all other willing druids, showing them gently how to heal themselves from these spores and how to heal others.
Eldau, too focused on how to catch his prey, didn't listen to Caspis. But he did hear that Fandral has poisoned them, and soon enough, he feels it too. His body contorts slightly as he attempts to spit the spores like a cat would a furball.
Thorn clutches his chest in discomfort as he feels the spores wracking his body, but he stands firm. He taps into Malfurion's knowledge and uses his magic to cure Imrolane, worried that she may be too frenzied to help herself.
“Care for each other,” Malfurion says frantically. “I must care for Teldrassil.”
Malfurion lunges for Fandral, who dodges his attack easily and laughs. “Hardly an attack worthy of–”
Fandral cuts off as he realizes Malfurion’s true target. Starfire burns through the shadow of ‘Valstann’. It hisses and howls. Bits of burning shadow flutter off in the wind.
“Valstann!” Fandral desperately clutches at the burning shadow, paying no mind to the fire burning his own flesh. The shadow dissipates as Fandral sobs with genuine grief.
Malfurion, on the other hand, turns and runs into the center of Darnassus in cat form.
Lode offers a nearby druid a bearhug-heimlich before doing her best to accept some assistance, shifting among various forms to see if elf or cat is better at horking out the foulness. She darts looks at nearby branches, wary of further assaults from unexpected places.
Linwel makes similar furball-hacking noises.
Florande curls on the ground, sobbing and in pain.
Thorn winces and coughs up blood. As soon as he's sure that Imrolane is ok, he makes his way over to Flo and tends to her. He is much more confident in the resilience of his own body than those of the others.
Florande coughs and sits up as Thorn helps her heal.
Eyes unseeing, the archdruid shouts his son’s name over and over. He pleads for Valstann to come back to him. The other druids who stood by his side look confused, and two kneel to try to comfort him.
For a moment Caspis looks genuinely sorry for Staghelm as the maddened archdruid burns himself trying to save his "son." But then he turns back to his allies, casting spells of healing and protection where he can.
Eldau is healed by Caspis. He turns back to his Tauren form. "Thank you, friend." He clears his throat, embarrassed that he wasn't able to heal himself.
Soon, Malfurion returns carrying a bone pale branch that drips something that looks - and smells - like blood. “This is the taint that spread through Teldrassil. It is a branch from the tree that casts the shadow of the Nightmare Lord. This Lord is Xavius, once the advisor of Queen Azshara, imprisoned in this tree since the War of the Ancients.”
"Xavius!" Caspis's eyes go wide.
Wyriel, who is still trying to shelter the group under her wings, seems deeply grateful for Caspis's healing, which is probably the primary thing keeping her alive.
Another rumble shakes Teldrassil, and there are more distant screams.
“But now… we do not have time to deal with Xavius. I have removed the source of the corruption, but Teldrassil is pulling itself apart. Please, I ask you all, join your power with me to help it heal.” Malfurion holds his hands out to everyone.
Thorn finally takes a moment to heal himself and then regains his composure to help Malfurion in mending the tree.
Eldau sighs. "After all this… I can't believe we're still healing that old thing." He clears his throat again, as if spores we're still painfully tickling his throat. He holds out his hands for other nearby druids, following Malfurion's move.
Linwel looks at Malfurion, but they don't need long to consider. They reach out one fluffy paw towards Thorn and the other towards Eldau, moving to join the circle.
Caspis hesitates just long enough that he doesn't manage to actually hold Stormrage's hand, landing one druid away from him. His ears droop a little in disappointment, but then he focuses on joining his will to the Circle's.
Wyriel breathes emerald-green fire on the vines that restrain Shandris Feathermoon, Hamuul Runetotem, and Naralex. The Nightmare-imbued vines wither and turn to dust, freeing the unconscious trio.
Florande, tears still streaming down her face, hesitates as well, but the shame in her expression probably gives a different reason for it. She does, though, join hands in the circle.
Malfurion accepts all of the druids into his mind, even those who had misguidedly followed Fandral. Once the connection is established, he transforms into a stormcrow and rises above the canopy, the better to direct the healing. He reaches out into the soul of Teldrassil, urging it to send roots deep into Azeroth, to feed from the life of our planet and heal its damaged soul.
Wyriel does not join in the healing circle - she keeps watch, sheltering the others with her wings, waiting to see if Fandral Staghelm will make another move while everyone is vulnerable.
Caspis stands with eyes closed, his expression suggesting that he, too, is mentally soaring above them all on black-feathered wings.
The reaction is sluggish, but Teldrassil begins to stir. It begins to grow stronger. And then suddenly, there is a wonderful rush of life…
From the crown is a cacophony of ear-splitting cracks, but it is not the splitting of branches. Rather, it is the branches that tore themselves nearly apart, making themselves whole, moving back into place. Wherever they heal, new growth follows, buds sprouting and then blossoming into beautiful draping leaves. Teldrassil renews itself from the roots deep in the soil to the leaves of the canopy, until finally there is no sign of the taint remaining.
A big smile slowly works its way onto Thorn's face as he feels the great tree healing.
Eldau sighs of relief. He stares at Teldrassil, looking around as if he could see the life emanating from it. "Now that's a proper tree…" he whispers to Linwel.
"Bet-ter," Linwel agrees.
Caspis's eyes remain closed, his expression solemn, and even slightly shocked as he feels, for the first time, a healthy Teldrassil.
Florande looks up in wonder, watching the tree reknit itself. She pours all of her strength into the circle, holding nothing back.
Suddenly, a booming female voice comes from above the canopy. It is Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder and Aspect of the Red Dragonflight! “I have come to a decision! Though I and the others did not bless this tree at the beginning, a blessing is needed now! Let this blessing touch Teldrassil and all upon it! And let it create for us a new hope and a new beginning!”
A golden red glow starts at the top of the leaves and rapidly permeates the entire tree, filling the air and giving a warm blessing of life to each of the druids below. Malfurion spirals back down to the Cenarion Enclave and lands, turning back into kaldorei form before falling to his knees in exhaustion.
"Now that's a proper tree!" He whispers again to Linwel, enthusiastically. His smile is bright and cheerful, revealing his feline fangs. He claps once or twice, already over the whole 'worrying about Staghelm' thing.
Linwel trills happily and claps their paws as well.
Wyriel shrinks down into her Kaldorei form again, sighing in relief. "Thank you, your majesty," she murmurs. She looks at the others, then steps over to Florande, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Teldrassil is whole, for the first time,” Malfurion says. “Our work is not done. The Nightmare Lord still has Ysera, and even the loss of Fandral Staghelm is not likely to stop his plans now. We will need to take Staghelm and his remaining followers to Moonglade, to see if they can be rehabilitated. But… I must rest for now. We must plan. Thank you, my friends, for trusting me.”
Caspis stares at Malfurion in crestfallen confusion as he talks about 'rehabilitating' Staghelm, but at last he lowers his head obediently, then glances around somewhat disoriented to see what else needs to be done.
Florande looks over at Caspis and flinches in shame. She looks up to Wyriel and says, "Will the tree be alright now, do you think?"
"Yes," Wyriel says, smiling. She pat pats Florande's shoulder. "Teldrassil is more healthy now than it has ever been."
"We must rescue Ysera, once Shan'do Stormrage has a plan to do so, and receive her blessing for the tree as well. But now, at least, we need not fear its corruption. And now we shall deal with the cause. But as Alexstrasza is my witness, there will be no 'rehabilitation' for Staghelm in my eyes. For too long I have borne the scorn and mockery of others for my attempts to warn them of his treachery. I will hear no more excuses from anyone who supports him. I will obey Stormrage in all things, of course, and if he chooses to show mercy I will abide by his decision, But here, before all of you, I give one last warning, and hope that for once I will be heeded: give Staghelm even one more chance, and we will all pay dearly."
Florande looks down and nods sadly. "Not one more chance for trust. Not from me."
"That man…" Wyriel's eyes search for Cerelar in the crowd. She says softly to Florande, "The man you were looking at, before. He was not sick with the others, when the spores turned malicious."
Another tear drips down Florande's cheek. "He just watched. When it happened. He's my… he's my father."
Wyriel frowns. "Oh, sweet girl." She kisses the top of Florande's head, an oddly motherly gesture a little bit at odds with her otherwise youthful persona. "I will speak to them now, I think," she says, and starts towards the few of Staghelm's followers that remain.
Caspis watches Florande gravely, but for once does not go to a friend in distress, merely observing.
Between being strangled in foul vines, suffering the spores before being purified, and giving what strength she had to assist in healing Teldrassil, Imrolane has nothing left. Lacking even the energy to transform to the comfort of her cat form again, she slumps against Caspis's side. "Thero'shan," she says weakly, "I am…so proud of you. This Circle…needs your wisdom…more than ever. I will always stand with you against Staghelm."
Caspis supports her, wrapping arm around her and looking down at her solemnly. "You believed me when no one else would. I have never doubted you."
Imrolane gives Caspis a crooked smile, as if she can't muster the strength to lift the other corner of her mouth. She rests her head against his shoulder, but casts her eyes around for Thorn. When she manages to catch his gaze, she just gives an exhausted nod of thanks.
Thorn returns the nod and offers a warm smile to the both of them.
Cerelar looks over as Wyriel approaches.
Wyriel faces him and the others with her head held high. "I am Dreamtender Wyriel. I seek an explanation for your actions today. I understand why one might trust in one's leader, silencing any personal misgivings out of faith. But when you chose to stand by him and the shadow-thing pretending to be his son, when you watched him activate the spores inside your brothers and sisters and children to kill them, why did you do nothing?!"
Caspis stands and stares daggers at Cerelar.
The druids look at Wyriel. Some seem dazed or stunned at this turn of events. Cerelar keeps his eyes on Wyriel.
"The Archdruid would not have let them die," he says, and it sounds like he may actually believe it. "He said we might need to stop traitors in our midst. I was horrified that my daughter was one such. He said we needed to…" here Cerelar's certainty fades away. "We were meant to heal Teldrassil."
"You are a fool," Caspis snarls. "You throw away everything of worth in your life to curry favor with that arrogant, broken madman."
Imrolane still clings to Caspis, but does her best to look like she's just there giving him moral support. She stares hard at Cerelar. "I know…what it is like to be swayed by one such as Staghelm. They tell us… what we want to hear. Makes us trust them…even when they speak horrors. You must wake up now…make amends…be better. Or you will lose yourself completely."
Caspis visibly trembles with the effort of letting Imrolane's merciful words stand. He looks ready to eat faces.
Florande watches from a few paces away. She doesn't speak to her father. She drops down in a crouch, and the air shimmers as she tries to shift, but she is too tired. She turns away from Staghelm and his followers and crawls over (as if she were a bear) to Caspis and Imrolane and the others.
Cerelar looks at the druids, and says, "You've won today. Which of us is a fool, I suppose time will tell."
Imrolane sighs. Did she expect her words to actually reach Cerelar? Probably not. But the seed is planted. Maybe one day he will allow it to grow.
"If you do not see the truth when your own daughter, the one child you do supposedly still care about, is threatened… then you never will."
"Teldrassil was healed, but not by your hand," Wyriel says, gesturing around. She walks very solemnly over to where the druid that was killed by vines now lies. Some of his brethren have closed his eyes and tried to put his clothes in order, but the vines still pierce his body. She kneels, murmuring something to a druid that remains by the fallen man's side, and then stands with the body in her arms.
She carries the dead man with an easy strength, rocking him slightly like one might rock a baby, as she returns to Cerelar.
"Fandral Staghelm ripped him apart from the inside," Wyriel says in a calm, steady voice. "As he would have done to your daughter, and everyone who stood against him, had we not cleansed ourselves. Is this the death you believe traitors deserve?"
"He is the traitor!!" Caspis snaps, entirely missing the point.
"I am still speaking with him," Wyriel says to Caspis. "Will you kindly allow me that opportunity, respected Silvershade?" It is the nicest possible way to say 'please shut up'.
Caspis does, indeed, shut up, with such alacrity that it seems he is well accustomed to the practice in Circle gatherings by now. He murmurs to Imrolane, "It seems nothing will change for me, even now. I am finished, here. Would you like to stay? I will be fine on my own, and we can speak later.”
"It must have been… a mistake," Cerelar says, his gaze fixed on the body. Then, more firmly, he says, "Yes, a mistake. Clearly, he had no intention of killing the others. Naralex and Hamuul were merely detained, which must be what was intended. This is all because things went awry, that's all."
Muffled, Florande says, still not facing him. "Daddy, just stop talking and be wrong. I'm not dead and it's not because of you."
When Florande speaks, Caspis is immediately distracted from what he was saying to Imrolane as a look of shocked pride comes over his features. He stares at Florande in wonder, and for a moment seems to see nothing but her.
Cerelar looks sharply over at Caspis and the small group of druids. "I don't know who you are, that my daughter would leave me to follow you. She would have been safe at my side."
Caspis then seems to realize he is being addressed by Cerelar and says with solemn dignity, "I am Caspis Silvershade, your daughter's teacher. Soulmate to Anareline Evensong."
Wyriel looks down at the man in her arms. "A mistake," she says sadly. "Would that it were a mistake." The withered vines piercing the man in her arms begin to bloom with pink and orange flowers, and she turns away to go set him down again.
Cerelar stares at Caspis with a sudden intensity. "Ana's soulmate? I'd not thought she would have such a…" then his attention is suddenly drawn by the blossoming flowers, and he watches Wyriel as she takes the body away. There's an odd, uncertain, almost guilty look on his face for a moment.
"We'll need to get these people to Moonglade, and under guard," Broll says, stepping forward wearily. "Shan'do Stormrage says they'll have a chance to see the error of their ways, and they'll have that chance, over time." He nods at Wyriel. "If you're willing to help with that rehabilitation, I'm certain it would be appreciated."
Wyriel cocks her head, looking at Broll. "They're being rehabilitated? And not ripped to shreds by vines for being traitors? How kind. Kinder than what Staghelm would have done, it seems." She considers this. "Perhaps for a little while."
Broll nods to Wyriel and says, "I have no plan to model anything after what Staghelm would have done. I don't know if mercy will be helpful, but maybe some of these people are just misguided. Many trusted in Staghelm, at least up until recently." Cerelar stares in confusion as Broll and the others herd them together to take them off to Moonglade.
Wyriel nods to Broll and returns to Caspis and Florande.
Florande still huddles on the ground, looking down. Then she hazards a glance up at Caspis.
Caspis reaches down to help Florande to her feet, and pulls her fiercely into a fatherly embrace. Right in front of her actual father. But for once he doesn't seem to be trying to spite his enemy; for the moment he has seemingly forgotten Cerelar is there.
Florande is surprised, but sinks into the embrace, clinging to him as the tears on her face soak into his tunic.
"You are safe now," he says quietly, stroking her hair. "It's over, thero'shan. You were very brave." His voice cracks just a little on the last word.
Florande huddles against Caspis and says in a muffled voice, "Thank you, shan'do."
Florande steps back from the embrace as Wyriel returns, and rubs at her nose with her fist. "I think things will be better now."
"Shan'do Stormrage has returned," Caspis says solemnly. "Soon this time will be nothing more than a bad dream."