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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | The fifth week of the war against the denizens of the Firelands. Logs include Aiseia, Anareline, Celaven, Atley, Caspis, Tyrrell, Gwenivene, Mordecai, and Sintha. ~9900 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Monday
Anareline steps over to Caspis. "Ready for the usual rounds?"
Caspis nods solemnly and pulls up his avian hood and mask.
"The bears need assistance again today," Anareline observes. "And the southern border, as usual. Then we will see what's needed at the front."
Caspis gets an odd expression at the mention of bears, but shifts into stormcrow form and follows.
"It is a shame Ursoc and Ursol were not among those renewed here," Ana says, as they fly to the southern border. "Florande would have been so excited."
Caspis changes into moonkin form, and does not comment.
At a break in the fighting, Caspis shifts back to elven form and turns to Ana. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.
"Well enough, I think," Ana says, after a slight pause. "I will feel better when we have won." She pauses. "I do think Hamuul is recovering, though it is hard to tell under all the bandages."
"Well, here's where you've been!" says Ace.
Caspis turns to look at Ace curiously.
Anareline glances up at the incoming dwarf. "Cobalt — you're here to lend assistance? I am Anareline, I'm not certain if we've met."
"Caspis Silvershade," he says.
"We're fighting these, here, to keep them from spilling over into Ashenvale," Ana explains.
After they clear the southern border, they fly north towards where the bears generally need assistance.
Caspis hangs back and lets Anareline deal with the bears. He is looking determinedly at some birds in the distance.
Anareline explains to the newcomer, "The bears are prone to climbing trees to escape the Firelord's minions."
Caspis's gaze drifts over to Ace and lingers there for a moment, as though something is ringing a bell… hmmm…. nope, nope, his gaze just drifts off again.
Once the bears are rescued, the team passes through the portal into the Firelands. Here, Ace draws up short.
"Oh, spirits!" Ace exclaims. "What's all this?"
"This is the Firelands," Anareline says, gesturing at the battlefield.
Caspis turns toward Ace, shifting back into elven form, his eyes full of sympathy. "Is this your first venture past the portal?" he asks her.
Ace looks around, looking awed but horrified. "Aye."
"Take a moment if you need," he says in his quiet, deep voice. "We are no longer in our world.”
“But it will get easier," he then reassures her.
There's a large tree growing out of the top of a cave, and the spreading greenery extends outward to cover the bulwark. Beyond that, there is the battlefield, where the forces of Hyjal fight the various elementals that Ragnaros throws at the attackers.
"We have been slowly pushing them back," Ana gestures at the kaldorei fighting the Charred Soldiers and the Druids of the Flame at the breach.
Caspis nods solemnly, a touch of pride in his grave expression.
"There are a number of things we do to assist here, soldier," Anareline says, addressing Ace. "First, naturally, we fight."
"Oh aye, fighting. Point me,” Ace says.
As soon as Ace mentions fighting, Caspis shifts into the form of a strangely ominous moonkin with shaggy black feathers and baleful, glowing eyes. Caspis's antlers resemble the blackened branches of burned trees.
"Second, we heal those who are fallen on the battlefield, if you have healing capabilities. If not, there is a salve. I typically use the salve."
"And third, take a handful of seeds," Anareline offers them to Ace. "These will grow vines to tangle our enemies."
Caspis stays close to Ace as she begins to navigate the fiery battlefield. He still doesn't seem to be casting healing spells, but he does attack anything that targets her.
"So I just put the seed in the dirt—-AUGH!" Ace jumps back as a tendril vine bursts from the ground. "What in the name of Mimiron is THAT?"
Caspis lays a hand on her shoulder. "It will not harm you," he says quietly.
"It is an ally," Ana says, with a faint smile at her reaction. "We call it a smothervine."
Ace does appreciate how it creates a lot of trouble for the fire druids, who deserve it.
"I did'na expect it to grow so vigorously!"
"The druids are very talented with plants," Ana observes, glancing at Caspis with a look of pride.
"Druid magic," Caspis says solemnly, with a touch of pride in his voice.
"It's quite the thing. I bet these'd come in real handy in an ambush, if they'd be inclined," Ace says.
"Indeed," Caspis says.
"Have you been briefed on the situation here?" Caspis asks her. He has shifted back to elven form to speak.
"Oh, not really. I just got sent. Report to the Firelands, they said. I thought I knew what to expect," Ace says.
"Fire?" Ana says dryly. "There is plenty of that. But the enemies are varied. You will want to watch out for the Druids of the Flame, they are more deadly than they might appear."
"Shan'do Stormrage has set in motion some powerful magic here," Caspis explains. He points to the tree growing out of the top of the cave. "He brings life to a corner of the Firelands, weakening the elemental magic here bit by bit. In the meantime, we hold off wave after wave of elementals as well as the Druids of the Flame, led by Fandral Staghelm." He says the name like it burns his mouth.
"That guy," Ace grumbles. "I didn't want to say so but was always a bit of a dink."
Caspis stares at Ace for a moment, and then… laughs. It is a strange, mirthless bark of a sound, but definitely a laugh.
"A dink," Ana blinks. "I do not know that word, but from context I would tend to agree."
Caspis points to Ana, as if to indicate that she took the words from his mouth.
"Oh, it's a … slightly less naughty but still insulting name for…the bit that matters so much to a man," Ace says.
"Ah, you use that as an insult as well in Common?" Caspis says. "I would have not thought so, given the elevated status of human males."
Ana is startled into a sound that is something like a laugh. "I shall have to add this to my vocabulary. What did you say your name was, young woman?"
"Aiseia Stormhammer. Friends call me Ace," Ace says.
Caspis stares at Ace again for a moment, clearly trying to get that bell to ring. "Ace," he says. As though trying to embed it in his slippery memory.
"Ace," Ana nods. "I'm pleased you have joined the effort at the front." She pauses. "Is 'dink' a translation from dwarvish?"
"Oh, that's Common. We'd say that's he's overly proud of his hammer," Ace says.
Caspis continues to gaze at Ace with almost funereal solemnity. After a moment he says, "It does me more good than you can know to hear that you could see through him from the start."
"As you likely noticed, he was… respected," Ana says, her lips twisting a little with anger. "Until it was proven beyond all doubt that he should not be. And now, he is the leader of these Druids of the Flame which plague us here."
"I tried to warn his followers for centuries," Caspis growls.
Ace smiles back. "Sometimes it's a relief to know you're not the only one. Whether it's an odd noise ye make when you're concentrating, or when you take against a food everyone else likes…"
Caspis studies Ace a moment then nods. "Do you often find yourself misunderstood?"
"Almost every day," Ace says. "Wears on a person, doesn't it?"
Caspis lets out a long breath and nods.
Ana reaches over to rest a hand on his shoulder. "It is good to find people who share the feeling."
"What about you is often misunderstood?" Caspis asks Ace, leaning into Ana's hand slightly.
Ace nods back. "Da says it's because I pay attention to things others don't notice, or want to dismiss…and they don't mean anything by not seeing it that way. They just. Don't."
"What kinds of things do you notice, that others don't?" Ana asks, studying her.
"Sometimes, things about people. My sister always wanted to know if I liked someone or not when I first met them. But—" Ace glances around looking for listeners. "She'd take my impression, but she wouldn't defend me." The dwarf maiden shrugs. "I can never tell if a lad or a lassie fancies me, though. I always think they're just being nice."
"Fancies you?" Caspis repeats uncertaintly.
"Likes you in a romantical sort of way. Kissing. The awkward stuff,” Ace says.
"It is considered fancy?" Ana tilts her head, puzzled.
"Ahhhh," Caspis says, nodding thoughtfully. "People do not… tell you?"
"I'm much more fluent in common than I thought. Fancy, like fantasy. Flights of fancy. It would be much simpler if they did," Ace grumbles.
Casis nods in clear agreement.
"I suppose you could always ask," Ana says.
"But like that. Sometimes I notice that people need to be the one who's always right, but they never think it straight out, like "I must always be right." because if you said it out loud, it would be obviously silly," Ace says.
"My saying aloud that I was right has never served me particularly well," Caspis says dryly.
"Oh, that's the worst," Ace says. "You never feel more alone than then."
"While it might be frustrating," Caspis observes thoughtfully, "I suppose you are fortunate that your most bewildering quality is an insight into things others cannot perceive. It may not win you friends, but it will ease your own path through complicated terrain."
"When you're right and your friends didn't agree, then they know to heed you, next time, when you have a perception they don't. They have the chance to understand you," Ace says.
Caspis considers this for a moment. "I wonder," he says slowly, "what my fellow druids will think of me when all of this is over."
"Some of them won't like it," Ace warns. "But that's their problem. The rest will trust your opinion more."
"I am not, in general, a perceptive man," he admits. Understatement of the… ten millennia. "But I was once… a part of Fandral's inner circle. Low in the hierarchy, but… observing him constantly. Over time, patterns emerged. But I was not well-respected, and so when I tried to speak of what I had seen, I was laughed at or worse, accused of ulterior motive."
"You didn't have a lot of power," Ace says. "And do I guess correctly that there was a way people understood where everyone was on the ladder of power…and everyone was assumed to want to rise?"
Caspis nods gravely. "Yes. Yes, you see it exactly."
"Perhaps now they will value you as they always should have," Ana says.
"In truth I never craved power, but yes, I did wish to be valued," Caspis says.
Ace nods. "My closest family have political ambitions. It's much the same. Someone who is powerful is more credible, someone who is less powerful is seen as less credible. even though they're more likely to be honest. I'm sorry."
"Ahhh, I see where you have earned your wisdom," Caspis says. "Nothing teaches one faster than observing political maneuvering."
"It's a swift and pointy teacher. Which is why I ran off to join the fighting," Ace says.
Ana looks briefly angry, considering politics.
"It feels good, doesn't it? Just to… fight." For a moment, his eyes flare with a sort of hunger.
"Aye. It suits me more than the double layered talk of intrigue," Ace agrees.
"I am good at speech," Caspis says, "but not… conversation."
"I think you're fine at conversation," Ace declares.
Caspis tilts his head, birdlike. "Do you," he says in his low, resonant voice. "How interesting. There is much about you that is… unlike my usual social experience."
"Maybe it's simply because we're just being quietly together," Ace says.
Caspis nods thoughtfully. "In general, your people are… more comprehensible to me than humans, or gnomes. There is… patience about many of you. And you have an interesting … confidence. Not arrogance, but… a surety of yourself."
"It's definitely because we're children of the earth." Ace grins. "of all the elements, but earth is close to our hearts."
"I have seen Ironforge - you must know fire as well. What are your thoughts on it? I have had little reason to consider the elements until now," Caspis says.
"Fire is…it is the changer, to put it simply. Through fire, many things are transformed. even when fire consumes, what it leaves behind is not useless," Ace says. "Fire gives, but to do that, it must take. It cannot exist without something to feed it."
Caspis's eyes narrow in fierce thought. "I see why Fandral favors it," he growls softly.
"Fire always needs something else. It cannot be the only thing. And that is how we use it as a tool—controlling what it consumes,” Ace says.
"Maybe anger is what feeds the fire?" Ana considers. "Rather than coming from the fire itself."
Caspis considers this for a long moment. "When I first met Fandral," Caspis says a bit distantly, dreamily, "he seemed little more than a boy. But something in him burned. It was riveting. People flocked to him like moths… I among them." His ears droop a bit at this last. "But it is as you say. He needed something to consume in order to survive. Usually… other people."
"That makes sense," Ace says.
"His climb to the top depended upon the fall of others. At least, in his mind. There was always someone above him who was a fool, someone he could do so much better than," Caspis says.
"And so people learned that from him. And so when you pointed it out, they didn't like it. Maybe not just because he was the leader," Ace says.
Caspis makes a low, thoughtful humming sound.
Ana frowns more deeply. "I hope… the next generation of the druids might learn a different way, if so."
Ace nods. "You would be good at showing them that, I think."
"Both Ana and I very much enjoy teaching," Caspis says, a bit of warmth in his voice.
"You should do it. There's younger druids in Cobalt Company, is there not?" Ace asks.
Caspis nods. "I have a few students. One in particular, Florande Wildbloom, has become very dear to me."
"Yes, they learn well from their teacher," Ana says, glancing to Caspis with an answering warmth. "I am not a druid myself, but I will help as I can. I mostly teach combat."
Caspis sobers. "My heart aches for Florande, because her father was lost to Fandral's madness during the Nightmare, and has now followed him into the fire."
"Her father and my…" Ana considers the appropriate Common word, and then simply says, "Florande is not mine, but I do think of her as something like a daughter, as well.
“She will not have to face him here," Ana says firmly, looking to Caspis. "We will spare her that."
"Anareline also has two children with this accursed man," Caspis explains. "But he abandoned them long ago, her as well." Again that slight predatory flare in his eyes. He wants to mess this guy up.
"You need not have concern for him, as you fight the Druids of the Flame," Ana says, nodding to Ace.
"I want to be there when Cerelar Dawnshadow faces his final reckoning," Caspis says. "And of course, when Fandral Staghelm faces his."
Ace nods, thoughtful. "I didn't know what to expect here. Now I see that I need to come back. This task will need many hands."
"Yes. Feel free to find us, when you return - we will be pleased to stand with you." Caspis bows respectfully.
"Yes, I am honored to fight by your side," Ana nods.
"I am honored to fight alongside you," Ace said. "It's very good to make new friends."
Tuesday
Dane pushes himself up and whistles for Thoras, climbing aboard as he finishes his waterskin, balancing his helmet in his lap. He looks around and spots Caspis, upnodding with a grunt.
Caspis nods, turns into a stormcrow, and hovers nearby.
Dane grunts again and spurs Thoras on. Dane lands and tugs his helmet on.
Caspis shifts into moonkin form and starts hurling spells.
Dane wordlessly charges in towards a Fiery Behemoth and starts swinging Thunderfury with expertise. The blessed blade bites chunks out of the giant's molten skin.
Insects swarm around the giant, distracting it as Atley strikes.
Dane glances around at Sethria's Roost as a Seething Pyrelord nods. He makes eye contact with the ominouskin and nods before whistling for Thoras.
At their next destination, Caspis summons a storm to lash the three flamewalkers that Atley engages.
Dane returns to the Sanctuary of Malorne, speaking in a clipped fashion with the sentinels there before he looks to the portal and nods. "Into the breach, then." he growls casually.
The doomkin hoots softly, then turns into a stormcrow.
Thoras screeches with anticipation before he ducks his feathery head and dives through like a missile.
Dane charges into a group of Charred Soldiers and Druids of the Flame, raising Thunderfury high only to slam the ground with it.
Caspis eagerly joins in the destruction of the druids, his eyes blazing among his dark feathers. For some unknown reason, moonkin-Caspis applies healing salve to the downed Cenarion Circle druids rather than using magic to heal them.
Dane releases a savage battle shout before he charges into another group of elementals, cleaving them down.
Caspis echoes it with an angry moonkin sound.
Dane idly watches the doomkin apply healing salves but otherwise doesn't seem to linger on the observation. Dane promptly and repeatedly stomps through the hardened carapace of an Emberspit Scorpion for the shadowing Crimson Lasher to feed.
Caspis watches the lasher with interest, leaning in close.
Dane points Thunderfury at the feeding Lasher, and looks to Caspis out from underneath his helm. "I still don't properly trust these things. Yet."
Caspis turns back into elven form briefly to assure Atley, "I sense no hostility from it whatsoever. Though its life cycle is most peculiar."
"Looks wretched to me," Dane remarks casually, glancing from Caspis to the Lasher.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Caspis remarks, before turning into the most terrifying moonkin ever beheld.
Dane grunts emphatically.
As they return to the rear echelon, Dane produces a strip of jerky and chews on it. "I understand your mates've the Talon have joined the fray."
Caspis shifts to elven form again and nods solemnly. "I have been honored to aid them."
Dane splits the jerky in half and offers Caspis a strip.
Caspis takes it and eats it eagerly. He looks like he's starving.
Dane regards him sternly and slowly lowers a hand to his bag. "Have you been eating much, then?"
Caspis looks like he's trying to remember. He eventually sighs and shakes his head in a nonverbal admission that he has not. "Anareline is away doing Cobalt Company reports and… so on," he says, as though this is an explanation.
Dane sets his jaw. "You need to eat." He holds out a few more strips of jerky to Caspis.
Caspis takes them and omnurons them.
Dane jogs off to join the Druids of the Talon in combat.
Caspis summons storms to help drown flames.
When they arrive at the cavern, Caspis stops Atley with a hand on the shoulder. "Be careful," he says, and points to a rope leading straight down. He then turns into a stormcrow and dives into the hole.
Dane initially moves to charge in before he stops and looks to Caspis. He grunts and nods at the rope. "Right." Not everyone is lucky enough to have wings.
Dane rapidly descends the rope, so rapidly that it's more of a controlled fall than anything else. He lands in the cavern with a clank of steel and glances around, arms bulging and glistening with sweat. "This looks familiar."
"Oh?" says Caspis. It's possible nothing ever looks familiar to him.
"Our venture into the Firelands during the squad's deployment to Mt. Hyjal," Dane explains.
He greets the young Talon Druidess with a warm embrace. "Thisalee will orient you to the situation," he says softly.
Dane gives the young girl a stern nod and a grunt.
As Thisalee catches Atley up, Caspis just gazes at her with a sort of wistful fondness. "I can help you find the flowers she spoke of," he offers.
"You go back with that one," Dane recalls, before he nods.
Caspis nods.
Dane grunts. "May be the bloody youngest night elf I've met."
"I remember when she barely reached above my knee," Caspis says sadly.
Dane grunts.
"I do not even remember my own daughter that young," Caspis says.
"My own'll be that age in the blink of an eye," Dane says.
Caspis nods in agreement. Fatherhood's weird. Especially if you have little to no conception of the passage of time.
"There, you see?" Caspis points to the red plant growing way too close to the lava.
Caspis snarls as a flamewalker grabs Atley and tries to hold him under the lava.
Dane snarls in surprise and narrowly manages to avoind being lava'd by slicing the Flamewalker's arm off.
Caspis nods in approval.
Dane nods to Caspis before he looks to the Lucifern. "Wot' we're after, then."
"An injured druid," Dane observes. "On your feet, mate."
"I can show you the way," Caspis offers the injured one.
Dane follows the pair of kaldorei, shield raised.
"When you find yourself in a thermal vent, jump and the air will thrust you forward, but be careful how you land,” Caspis says.
Dane grunts. "Very well." He leaps into the thermal vents after them without hesitation.
Caspis looks impressed. "Most find that very disorienting," Caspis remarks.
"Bloody unpleasant," Dane reviews.
A faint smile touches Caspis's lips.
"Out we go, then." Dane gestures to the opening of the chasm.
Caspis follows, a bit more easily. Because wings.
Dane takes a breath and tenses his stomach before leaping into the thermal plume, launching himself to the surface.
Caspis shows the way across the dizzying islands of floating rock.
Dane glares out at the floating magma platforms. "This is our path, then…?"
Caspis nods gravely.
Dane scoffs and shakes his head before he leaps along after Caspis.
Dane doubletakes one of the Fire Hawks. "They've the look of a phoenix."
Caspis scowls. "They are not birds, whatever they are," he says firmly.
"On the subject of birds…" Caspis says.
Dane visibly sweats with the general heat of the area combined with the power of thermal vents. He grunts inquisitively at Caspis as he pummels an Obsidium Punisher.
"I may … understand what has happened to me," he says.
"Have you, then?" Dane asks.
"Do you remember," he says, as though anyone normal could forget, "when we last visited the Shrine of Aviana together?"
"Brought her back, didn't we," Dane answers.
Caspis nods. "She came back… angry," he says hesitantly.
"At whom?" Dane asks as they ascend Fireplume Peak.
"At… everything," he says. "She is… darker now. Vengeful, deadly."
"Forever?" Dane asks.
"She was always fierce, but death has changed her. I … do not know," Caspis says softly.
Dane grunts and takes a moment to think it over. "Wot' else?"
"But I think the connection we shared… I think it makes me… empathetic to her. Involuntarily,” Caspis says.
Dane nods slowly and grunts. "And you had enough anger on your own to begin with, hadn't you."
"My love for her, and what we did for her… it connected me to her in my heart. And… now I must bear her anger as well as my own," Caspis says.
"Wot's Anareline make of all that, then." Dane asks dryly, nodding to one of the Fire Hawk eggs.
"I only put it fully together just before you arrived - I have not yet told her," Caspis says.
Dane looks from Caspis to the Fire Hawk Matriarch and goes quiet to kill her. Once the egg is secured, he looks to Caspis and squints, skin shining with perspiration as he stands on the ignaeous island in a molten lake. Dane asks, "Who else knows of this?"
"Only us two," Caspis says solemnly. "I am not even certain Aviana is aware of the bond I formed to her."
"Have you conferred with other Druids of the Talon?" Dane asks.
Caspis hesitates. "I… do not think other druids would respond well to any claims I make of a special connection to a goddess."
Dane grunts and faintly scoffs with amusement. "Have you spoken to her?"
Caspis looks genuinely startled at this suggestion, and falls silent as his thoughts zero in on it for a while.
"We met with her once," Dane adds. "And addressed her, personally. I warrant she can spare you a moment."
Caspis nods slowly. "I will see if I can… find a way."
Dane smashes another Obsidium Punisher into gravel with Thunderfury before he looks to Caspis. "I'd join you, if you'd have me."
Caspis gazes at Atley for a moment, then nods.
"Do you fear her?" Dane asks.
"Not at all," Caspis says immediately.
Dane grunts. "Even with her new fierceness."
"I may perhaps… fear for her," Caspis says.
Dane grunts inquisitively.
"I worry that this new darkness in her may turn her into something else. As anger has warped so many," Caspis says.
Dane peers at him before he up nods. "You were there, at the Battle of Mount Hyjal, weren't you?"
Caspis shakes his head. "My wife was, and so I returned to look after our daughter. She perished in the battle, and so Tirenda is now mine alone."
"Did you ever see the aftermath? How charred and ruined the land was?" Dane asks.
"I did," Caspis says. "I wish I had not seen it."
Dane grunts. "I'm grateful I did, now. Mount Hyjal is green again, even now under this assault. It can come back. If it can, so can she, and so can you."
"I admit that I have more hope, now that I have seen the way we hold them back," Caspis says.
Dane grunts. "There is always hope, as long as we've got a will to fight."
Caspis nods. "I should have listened to and trusted your words, before."
Dane grunts. "I've spent a great deal of time despairing," Dane begins after they descend into The Molten Flow again.
"And humans learn quickly," Caspis says.
"But now, especially with my children in this world, I will never entertain failure as a possibility," Dane growls.
"Fatherhood changes a man," Caspis agrees.
"You're closer to this fight than I am, in a number of ways. You've been involved in this culmination for centuries," Dane observes.
Caspis nods. "The feelings it stirs are… exhausting, at times," he admits.
Dane grunts and nods for the exit.
Caspis autofollows.
"P'raps once things've settled you'll be of a mind to visit Eastvale. Meet my wife. She's heard much of you. Meet my children, too," Dane offers.
"I would be honored," Caspis says softly
Dane thinks about something before he scoffs, and turns to eye Caspis with a brow lifted. "You ought to know I live in an bloody logging camp."
Caspis stares at Atley. Just… stares. "You do test our bond time and again, do you not, my friend," he says.
"Wood's always being cut," Dane shamelessly admits, bluntly. "But it's handled responsibly. The forest is managed and has been for some time."
Caspis sighs, and sulks, but does not argue.
Dane extends a hand. "'Till then."
Caspis stares at his hand for a moment before he remembers the thing, and gives it a brief clasp. "Until then."
Dane returns it before he swipes off his helmet, revealing a sweaty head of hair, and marches off to speak with Malfurion.
Wednesday
"Gosh," says Sintha, looking around brightly. "What a lovely day for everything to be on fire."
Tyrrell slants her a sidelong look and adjusts his gloves.
Sintha settles cross-legged on the lowest step of the sanctuary's moonwell to examine her equipment. "I am beginning to see Shay's point, honestly. Things being on fire is rather grim."
Bizpep, Tyrrell's imp minion, scampers out of Tyrell's eyeline and makes faces at Sintha.
"It's certainly becoming tedious," Zath agrees dryly.
Mordecai fidgets with his fingers, glancing over. He does not say hello. He'll be noticed eventually.
"I can see you, ratface," says Sintha to the imp without looking up from her organizing.
Bizpep ducks behind Tyrrell.
Tyrrell spots Mordecai, and inclines his head in greeting. "Aspenwood," he says, ambiguously.
Mordecai gives him a small finger-wave.
Satisfied with the state of her belongings, Sintha rises to her feet. She swivels her head, the curtain of her dark hair swinging, and blinks at Mordecai.
Zath's gaze flicks to the hair, then away.
Mordecai blinks back. He has been perceived. Gosh.
"Oh, gosh. I didn't even see you," Sintha tells Mordecai cheerfully. "You do rather fade sometimes, you know."
Dane swoops in atop Thoras. The gryphon's wide, extened wings thunderously flap as it slows to a stop, kicking up loose foliage in the underbrush. Dane keeps a hand on the gryphon's reins, twisting subtly here and there as he takes in those present.
Mordecai nods, ducking his head.
Tyrrell nods to Atley, crisp and icy. "You know I believe they train priests in that sort of thing, Master Sergeant."
"Sir Atley! Has anyone ever accused you of being subtle?" Sintha beams at Dane.
Mordecai gives Dane a small wave.
Tyrrell's glacial eyes flick toward Atley, a mute, beleaguered apology in them.
Dane swings a leg over the saddle and gives Thoras a firm pat. "Not yet. Day's still young, innit'." He tips his head. "Legionnaires. Chaplain."
"I mean it seems unlikely they would, but do let us know." Sintha tucks her hair behind her ears and looks around again.
Celaven swoops in on his gryphon, landing at the Sanctuary.
"Sgt. Evensong," says Tyrrell
Dane grunts and raises an apple, taking a hearty, audible, crunch of a bite.
Tyrrell's eyes flick over again toward the crunching.
Bizpep makes faces at Celaven from behind Tyrrell's back.
Dane's eyes flick down to Bizpep as he marches between Tyrrell and Sintha to get the lay of the land. He crunches down on the vaguely imp's head sized fruit again.
"Sgt. Tyrrell," Celaven says in answer. He does not make a face at the imp.
"Sergeants. Are you both ready?" Sintha looks from Zath to Celaven. "You will never guess where we're heading first."
"Supplies are in good condition," Mordecai mumbles. "Got a new shipment of burn salve in from Niris, it just needs to be brought to the other side of the portal." Who is he telling this to?
"Coming with us, Aspenwood? Atley?" Tyrrell asks.
Dane looks to Mordecai and nods. "We'll see it done, then."
"Oh! A-all right." Mordecai hurriedly whistles for his hippogryph.
"Southern border? Usual rounds?" Celaven guesses.
Tyrrell summons his very dark and broody gryphon.
Sintha summons a gryphon that seems to have been chosen to contrast with Zath's.
Dane follows in suit behind Master Sergeant Sintha.
They head down to the southern border and meet up with the usual array of allies.
Once the battle begins, Tyrrell involuntarily, and apparently painfully, turns into a huge shaggy black wolfman again. As always.
Tyrrell waits for Sintha to engage each enemy before beginning to hurl curses and felfire at them.
Sintha obligingly darts blades-first into the fray.
Celaven follows behind, scorching things with Light. There is not much need for healing on this familiar task.
Mordecai says very little except for the word Shield. To be fair, he says that very often.
Dane finishes off his apple, now reduced to a shriveled core, and tosses it into one of the smoldering braziers.
A dwarf ally says something about somebody’s jimmies.
"Did the dwarf say 'jimmies'?" Sintha squints over her shoulder.
"I'm not sure I know what a jimmie is," Celaven says, adjusting a lock of hair behind his ear.
"Private bits," Dane explains bluntly. "I doubt those giants have much of them."
"Mm, yes, I think today is not the day you turn subtle on us," Sintha reassures Dane.
Dane scoffs with amusement. "I wouldn't keep your hopes up, Master Sarn'. Subtlety's never been my strength."
"No! You — oh gosh. You don't say?" Sintha stares wide-eyed at Dane.
Tyrrell turns to Mordecai curiously. "Does the verbal component help you to focus your spellcasting?" he inquires.
"I can't cast the Power Words without the Power Words," Mordecai says, his ears burning red. He wraps his arms around his stomach.
Tyrrell nods at Mordecai. "Whatever works, hm?" he says in a slightly softer than usual tone.
Mordecai makes a small sound and lowers his head.
Tyrrell continues to surreptitiously study Mordecai when he isn't looking.
Dane grunts.
The team returns to the Sanctuary of Malorne.
Dane looks to Mordecai. "Where are the supplies?"
Mordecai seems deeply embarrassed, but that doesn't stop him from pointing out the box with Cobalt Company's insignia on it.
"Supplies?" Sintha peers at them. "Do you need help ferrying something? We're going through."
"Th-this one's salve from the clinic." It's a heavy-looking crate.
Dane grunts and lightly spurs Thoras closer solely with his boots. He leans down to heft the box. "We've got it," he growls amiably at Sintha.
Tyrrell sticks close to Master Sgt. Fallon's flank, but keeps observing Mordecai whenever he can't be caught at it. "Ah, thank you, Sir Atley," says Tyrrell. "We're absent our usual beast of burden.:"
"Thank you," Mordecai mumbles to Dane.
"What a beautiful day in hell!" Sintha observes cheerfully.
Dane scoffs faintly with amusement. "Who's the usual, then?" Dane nods at Mordecai.
"Sgt. Saion, a strapping great draenei," Tyrrell answers.
Dane growls with acknowledgement. "I know the one. We drew swords together in Ashenvale. Cheeky fellow."
Celaven doesn't carry any of the big boxes, but he does follow through into the Firelands.
"If you leave that with Rayne here," Mordecai gestures, "she can distribute it."
"You can imagine, then, why we might have assigned him elsewhere for the moment," Tyrrell says to Dane, deadpan.
Dane faintly furrows his brow at Zath as he nods to the Firelands. "Don't think he's cut out for this?"
"He's a bit… new," Tyrrell says. "But it wasn't my call. Captain Hall's."
Dane grunts.
"Tyrrell with me." Sintha nods to Zath.
Tyrrell's wolfy ears are turned toward Sintha's voice even as he addresses Dane.
"Sergeant Evensong," Sintha says briskly. "See to the wounded as usual."
"Yes, sir," Celaven says with a graceful salute. He moves out into the battlefield, moving quietly between the fighters, healing where needed.
Dane keeps an eye out for Mordecai during the fighting.
Mordecai sees to the wounded, coordinating with Celaven, without needing to be told.
Celaven smiles reassuringly at Mordecai whenever their eyes meet.
Dane lets out a heavy sigh as he watches the Crimson Lashers waddle up to the pools to drink.
Sintha watches them as well, blinking. "Gosh."
"I thought you were up in the Highlands, Sir Atley, with Mr. Shine and so on. Are you vacationing?" Sintha smiles up at Dane.
Dane glances mildly at her and shakes his head. "No. Fine place for a holiday, innit', nevertheless." He gestures sweepingly over the Molten Front. "Can't let you lot have all the fun, can I."
"Ah yes, such a spot for it," says Tyrrell.
Celaven chuckles.
"Honestly there does seem to be plenty of fun to go around." Sintha narrows her eyes to survey the roiling battlefield below.
Dane grinds his teeth with a grunt and nods. "Indeed. Let's !@#$%^ off to the Spire, then. See wot' bladework needs doing," Dane suggests.
Tyrrell looks to Sintha for orders. He's getting really good at waiting for her to say things without even starting to try to give orders now.
"Yessir." Mordecai follows Dane.
Celaven glances to the Master Sergeant as well.
"I am afraid the 7th Legion does not '!@#$%^ off,' but we will report to the Forlorn Spire as well." Sintha nods to the two sergeants.
Dane scoffs with amusement and nods.
Tyrrell's muzzle twitches.
Celaven smiles and follows along behind Dane and Mordecai.
Tyrrell, who is extremely alive, follows behind Sintha.
Dane tirelessly jogs up the slope, already glistening with perspiration.
Tyrrell does not perspire in his current form, but he might be panting subtly.
Celaven keeps himself and his 6th EU colleagues shielded.
Sintha does not perspire because she is a lady — no she perspires. She pushes her damp bangs up with the heel of one hand.
Tyrrell passes a flask of icy water toward Sintha. Why is it icy? He must have looked at it.
"Elementals!" Dane growls as they're happened upon by elementals. Yes.
Mordecai pulls his hat over his eyebrows.
Sintha accepts it with a grateful nod, takes a swig, and then eyes it suspiciousl— oop, elementals. It tastes fine. Not even a hint of sulfur.
"At least when we've cut through here," Sintha calls to the others, "we'll have giant fire spiders!"
Tyrrell stares at Sintha.
Sintha gives Zath a look.
Zath returns Sintha's look with an extremely respectful salute.
"Giant fire spiders," Celaven says dryly. "My favorite kind."
Sintha smiles brightly at Celaven. "That's the spirit, sergeant."
Dane sounds vaguely tired when he speaks, but despite the perspiration, he stands tall and strong. "Ragnaros must've been preparing his forces for some time. The resistance here is far greater than the other planes."
Sintha turns to Dane a little breathlessly and wipes her forehead again. "Have you been to all of the other planes then, Sir Atley?"
Tyrrell also seems interested in the answer to this question.
Dane nods vaguely at her without looking, jaw set. "All but water. That was White Squad," Dane remarks casually. "Wot've you lot?"
"This will be my first extraplanar experience," Tyrrell admits. "Even for the 7th Legion this is new territory."
Celaven nods, "This is my first and only elemental plane."
"Oh, gosh, I've only been here, yes. But Sergeant Evensong and I were wondering — would you say this plane has been the worst for your complexion? Or would that have been earth? I can imagine it being very drying." Sintha regards Dane perfectly
solemnly.
Dane briefly side-eyes Sintha before he refocuses on smashing spiders into smithereens. "I cannot say I've been overly concerned for my complexion, Master Sarn'."
Tyrrell's snout lifts briefly toward the sky as he gazes at it. Perhaps for assistance.
Sintha nods gravely at Dane. "I can see that now, yes."
Celaven covers a smile.
Dane tongues the inside of his cheek. "This has been the fiercest, by far. Ragnaros was ready for us."
Mordecai quietly cuts a druid out of a cocoon.
Dane loudly slices a Capture Hyjal Druid free.
One of the freed druid makes a nonchalant joke after being freed. Tyrrell eyes him dubiously, seeming to make a mental note.
Dane grunts and briefly eyes Tyrrell in agreement.
Sintha beams at the druid's joke.
Tyrrell makes another mental note, it seems.
Celaven carefully sidesteps all the spiders.
Despite Tyrrell's spells being almost entirely fire-based, the fire spiders seem to be hurt by them just fine.
Dane casually hefts a javelin provided by one of the wardens. He tosses it around, getting accustomed to its weight, before he launches it skyward with a grunt and downs a flying Druid of the Flame.
Celaven raises his eyebrows, looking at the fallen druid. "That's one way to handle them."
Dane grunts and looks between them, settling on Sintha's face. "I warrant we're due to return, then."
Tyrrell notices that one of Celaven's hairs is out of place, and adjusts it so furtively and lightly that Celaven may not even perceive it.
Celaven turns slightly towards Tyrrell, like he might have noticed some flicker of movement. There is no obvious threat, so he just smiles at Tyrrell.
Tyrrell nods back.
Tyrrell looks around as they finish their sweep of the area, and then looks to Sintha again.
Sintha surveys the scene and nods.
Sintha takes a barrette from a pocket and offers it to Celaven.
Wordlessly Tyrrell falls in behind Sintha again as they prepare to return to base.
Sintha, it should be noted, is not wearing barrettes.
Celaven looks a little puzzled, but accepts the barrette. He affixes it artfully in his hair.
Tyrrell smiles crookedly.
As they return, Atley removes his helm and rakes a hand through damp hair. His rugged features twist and tighten as he looks eastward, to the not so distance floating landmass.
"We're holding the line well," Tyrrell comments. "They ought to have overrun us by now. We've been effective."
"We will win," Celaven says, following his gaze. "Already we have made so much progress."
Sintha takes out a second barrette and considers Atley's damp hair for a long moment. Then she puts the barrette back in her pocket.
Once they're no longer under attack, Tyrrell melts back into his gaunt, pale human form.
Dane grunts. "We'll win. We don't break, and yet we still haven't seen the entirety of this place." He nods at the landmass.
"Not just holding — we're pushing out around them. It's slow going but it is going." She pauses and clearly tries to think of something ditzy to say next.
"I would like to achieve victory while seeing as little of it as possible," Tyrrell says dryly.
Celaven chuckles. "We may be past that point already. We have seen too much of this place."
"Well, at least there are giant fire spiders!" Sintha says cheerily.
Tyrrell sighs softly.
Dane glances back at Sintha and faintly scoffs with amusement before he looks to the other members of the EU. "I can think of no better way to piss off this Elemental Lord than to grow a tree in his own domain."
Tyrrell's icy gaze moves to the tree; he studies it with interest without saying anything.
"Let it wave like a banner. If he's a mind to tear it down he'll have to come meet us and do so himself. His lackeys have proven unworthy." Dane reaches for a waterskin.
"The tree is thriving," Celaven says with a faint smile.
Sintha leans toward Zath to whisper something.
Tyrrell leans in subtly. Zath smiles faintly and nods.
Sintha gives Zath a little wrinkle-nosed smile of conspiracy.
Dane raises the waterskin to his lips and takes a few gulps before he pours some down the back of his neck.
Tyrrell coughs and looks around for Mordecai.
Sintha draws back and eyes Zath skeptically. "Gosh, sergeant, don't be silly." She turns to the others.
Dane turns back to the 7th Legion. "You lot've been deployed here, then. Where's next?"
"I just do as I'm told," Tyrrell says. Icily.
"I couldn't say," Celaven says with a shrug. "This is not a victory yet."
"Whenever some other part of the world starts burning or caving in or blowing up or being hideously infested with something, we'll all know!" Sintha tells Atley.
"Mm," says Tyrrell.
"For now, 7th, let's report to the Captain. Pleasure to see you, Cobalts. Give Mr. Shine my love, Sir Atley."
Tyrrell nods to the Cobalts, and then follows Sintha out.
Dane inclines his head. "I shall. Travel well."
Celaven waves to Dane and follows his unit out.
Saturday
Anareline is in the camp at the Sanctuary, speaking quietly to Matoclaw.
Dane marches up, helmet tucked underneath an arm. He sips water from a skin and grunts at Anareline. "Evening."
"You know my shalan?" Caspis greets Dane.
Dane grunts and tugs on his helmet, extending a hand to Caspis. "I do. We've worked together before. Badlands, the first time, wunnit'?" he asks Anareline.
"Ah, yes," says Caspis, obviously completely faking knowing about or remembering this.
Anareline looks over and nods. "Badlands or the Blasted ones?" Ana shrugs. "We have fought alongside one another many times. And of course, I knew him as your squad leader in Northrend."
"That'd be the Blasted —" he cuts off and doubletakes Gwen. "I'll be. Gweniven Whittle. How the hell are you, then?"
Caspis bows to Gwenivne. "Hello again," he says in his deep, almost somnolent voice
Anareline glances over at the name and considers the woman. "I'm pleased to see you're well."
Gwenivene beams warmly to the gathered Cobalts. "Nice to see you all!"
"You seem well," Cas observes softly to Gwen.
Anareline nods seriously.
"Come to join the fight, then? Or study the portal?" Dane gestures vaguely over his shoulder.
Gwen nods solemnly to Caspis, her cheerful demeanor showing the briefest of cracks. "I'm getting by…same as anyone, I suppose." She nods to Dane, "Can a girl do both?"
Dane scoffs with amusement. "Aye, you certainly can, I wager."
"You can," Ana nods firmly. "We typically assist here on this side prior to crossing over into the Firelands."
"Well, count me in." Gwen nods firmly. "We show those flameys how we do in Westfall!"
Dane grunts and looks to Anareline.
Ana mouths 'flameys', and gestures for her gryphon.
Cas becomes a stormcrow.
Dane climbs aboard Thoras.
The stormcrow seems to follow in the wake of Atley's gryphon, a sort of automatic military obedience he hasn't shown around the man in a little while.
Ana glances at her shalan, and a faint smile of approval shows on her face for a brief moment.
Gwen soars after them on the back of Amethyraku.
Ana dives into the usual fight at the southern front.
Ana nods approvingly as Gwen prevents a Pyrelord from forming its shield.
Cas also notices this, but just looks bewildered.
Dane seems well accustomed to working with each of them.
Though Cas usually is backing up Dane by healing, today he flings alternating barrages of cool arcane energy and scorching nature magic.
Gwen wipes sweat from her brow. "Willikers! Fighting fire elementals is thirsty work."
Dane observes Caspis work with a grim expression, and once the fight ends he grunts. "I see wot' you mean, now."
Once the cliff is cleared, Ana says, "We can make a pass north, see if any animals are trapped in trees?"
Dane grunts at Anareline and follows after her.
Thoras chitters uneasily in the presence of Amethyraku and spreads his feathers to seem bigger. Attack?
Dane leans down to give the gryphon a few firm pats and grunts.
Ana looks at the Netherwing drake curiously.
Caspis seems lost in his thoughts. Shocking, I know.
Amy peers at Thoras with a…smile? Big gummy shark smile.
As usual, there are some bears trapped in trees. Poor baby bears, so easy to bewilder.
After, the team flies back towards the Sanctuary, passing by an open portal.
Ana indicates a portal nearby. "Lieutenant breaking through," Ana says. "Let's stop them."
"Right," Dane says. "On you."
It does not take long to dispatch the lieutenant.
Dane looks from the slain Lieutenant to Gwenivene. "This your first time on the Front?"
Gwen nods. "Yeah. After what we just went through at Wyrmrest Temple, Amy and I decided we really should be more involved in what's going on."
"Your assistance is appreciated," says Caspis solemnly in elven form, before shifting back into his moonkin form. This form is decidedly nightmarish, compared to your average moonkin, with scorched-branch looking antlers and shaggy black feathers.
"Wyrmrest Temple? Wot's happened there?" Dane asks.
Ana leads the way to the Firelands portal and passes through, and then looks at Gwen with sharp interest.
Gwen shakes her head with a heavy sigh. "It was intense. The Twilight's Hammer attacked with this five-headed Aspect-killer dragon."
Dane squints for a moment in thought. "How large was it, then?" he asks in between battling elementals.
"A five-headed dragon," Ana repeats, staring at Gwen.
"Absolutely enormous." Gwen nods, eyes wide. "One head for each flight. It was really disturbing to look at."
"It's dead now, is it?" Dane asks.
"It is. I don't think the Hammer expected we'd be able to rally all the flights against them." She squirms, "I mean…all except the black, of course. But Amy and I came with a bunch of the Netherwing flight!"
Moonkin-Cas has been listening to this entire conversation with his ominously glowing eyes wider than usual. Even if he could speak, it's clear he would have no idea what to say.
Dane grunts. "How many have we that are dead, then?"
"The Netherwing may have been… as if the black had come in support," Ana muses.
"I…I don't know," Gwen grimaces to Dane. But at Ana's comment, she nods enthusiastically. "That was my thinking as well. I think that might have been what convinced so many of them to come. The notion that they really could have a difference."
"Make up for what their predecessor is doing," Gwen adds.
Dane growls quietly. "Did this monster have much support?"
Cas continues tracking the conversation with his odd luminous eyes. He's not looming. He's just drawn that way.
Gwenivene sighs and nods. "There were a lot of Twilight's Hammer there. And, um…there was, um…" She waffles, unsure just what to say.
"There was?" Ana promptts.
Dane peers at her out from under the brim of his helmet.
"I'm guessing you haven't heard about the Twilight Father yet, then?" Gwen winces.
Dane shakes his head.
"One of their masterminds, I suppose," Gwen says, looking visibly shaken…even on the verge of tears. "Only…he was really…um…Archbishop Benedictus."
Dane recoils in hateful surprise. "Benedictus? Of the Cathedral?" he growls incredulously.
Gwen flinches, and nods meekly. "I could scarcely believe it, myself."
Ana shakes her head, but she looks at Gwenivene in concern. "I know neither of these people — he is someone of importance to you both?"
Moonkin-Cas, as elven Cas would not, shows no recognition at the name, but hoots softly in concern at Dane's reaction.
"One of the holiest of holy persons of the Church of the Light," Gwen explains. "Or…so we believed."
Dane tears his glare away from Gwen and looks to Anareline. "The High Priest of the Church of the Holy Light. Saw him at Remembrance Day."
Dane grunts insistently at Gwen. "I trust that the King's been informed of this treachery?"
"He must have been…right?" Gwen shrugs sheepishly. "I informed my superiors at the Kirin Tor, but I can't say for sure beyond that."
Dane grunts, after bashing a Firewatch Igniter to pieces with his shield. "Even he wasn't beyond the madness…" He tongues the inside of his cheek, glaring in thought for a moment.
Cas keeps his lambent gaze focused on Atley when he isn't busy blasting things with spells.
"Those with power are often the most susceptible," Ana says firmly. She frowns, and adds, "I shall ask my son to keep a close eye on Elune’s High Priestess."
"Aye. All our peoples should be made aware," Dane growls before he shakes his head. "Some will lose hope. I'm no saint, but Archbishop Benedictus was an upright man. Once."
"I pray none among the Kirin Tir will fall to such corruption," Gwen sighs. "But after Malygos…and then Arygos…it's hard to believe anyone is immune."
Ana frowns more deeply. "One should not lose hope, simply because the Old Gods have once again demonstrated the weaknesses of hierarchies."
Dane looks to Anareline. "I wouldn't blame the chain. I'd blame the weak links within it," he counters.
"If every chain has weak links," Ana answers back. "One may want to consider the structure of the chain."
Dane grunts. "I'd see them replaced with something stronger. Hierarchies bring order. I won't have these madmen spurning us to change the nature of our kingdoms."
One of Caspis's moonkin wings comes to rest gently on Ana's back for a moment.
"I think this is why a robust system of checks and balances is valuable," Gwen opines. "I'm glad the Kirin Tor is ruled by a council. They can keep an eye on one another. In fact, I'd say all the archmages do."
"Hm," Ana says, and it looks like she might say more, but then she glances at Caspis the moonkin. "I would not judge how you choose to form your society. Only — do not let the failures of one darken your gaze too much."
Dane waves Thunderfury idly. "I see the wisdom in wot' you say. I wouldn't have anyone lose hope to these curs. Losing Benedictus will darken hearts, regardless. I'm still certain we'll defeat them."
Gwen taps her chin. "Maybe don't spread around what I told you. The king might decide to keep the truth quiet to avoid demoralizing the public."
Ana nods. "And I trust your… checks… will keep the Kirin Tor safe."
Dane grunts. "I'd see the wisdom in that, as well," he says in a tone suggesting that he'd been thinking of that himself. "Can't keep it discreet forever, but p'raps long enough to slay Deathwing."
He points at the fiery keep in the distance. "And that !@#$%^&."
Gwen nods to both of them.
"I hope that happens sooner, rather than later," Ana says, looking over to the keep as well.
"It will," Dane says. "We've been carving through their lackeys for month. They're running out of pawns on the board."
Dane turns to regard Gwen, eyeing her up and down. "This thing you've slain will be a great blow to them, I warrant."
"I certainly hope so," Gwen agrees. "They seemed very sure they'd be able to destroy the Aspects with it."
Dane grunts. "Arrogance'll be down their downfall. They expected our will to break when the world first Shattered."
Cas continues to maintain his military autofollow with Dane, in moonkin form. It's not clear whether he is listening intently to the conversation or tuning it out completely; his gaze is fixed and distant.
Ana does a little twitch at 'when the world first shattered', but then makes a small ah sound. He probably means last year.
Caspis actually does turn back into elven form to elfsplain, "This is not the first time the world has shattered."
Dane grunts emphatically. "Fouler things have tried to break us."
"I wish I could say it would be the last," Ana says quietly. "But maybe it will be, once Deathwing is defeated."
"I cannot afford to entertain anything other than victory." Dane says.
"I will not." Dane growls.
Gwen's eyes darken a bit under the brim of her hat. "We've faced down one mad Aspect. We'll do it again."
Dane nods at Gwen and removes his helm, raking a gauntlet through sweaty hair. "And an elemental lord, in his own domain."
"Victory we will have," Ana agrees. "But victory may not be forever. I will remain vigilant."
Gwen's hat chirps. "Oh gosh. I should get Padrick out of here. This dry heat is not good for a tree frog."
"I'll make for Stormwind. Make certain that the King's informed, though I warrant he is." Dane says.
Moonkin Cas is now gazing at the frog in concern.
Dane scoffs with amusement. "Still have that little devil with you, then?"
Gwen giggles softly. "He won't let me go anywhere without him." She begins to gesture, parting the air with a growing portal. "Stormwind, then?"
Ana settles in at the front, at the base of the thriving Sentinel Tree. "Caspis, we'll remain here for a time?"
Dane grunts. "Come with me, will you? I'd like a word."
Gwen blinks (her eyes…not teleporting) as she opens the portal. "Oh? Um, sure, of course!"
Dane raises a hand to Caspis and Anareline. "Farewell, you lot."
Caspis shifts to elven form and approaches Ana. "There is something I must speak with you about," he says.
Ana reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I will always be here, for whatever you need to speak of. Let's find somewhere quieter…"
Gwen waves to the elves as she steps through the portal.
Dane ducks his head through the portal and arrives in Stormwind. "Let's have a go at somewhere more private," Dane tells Gwen.
"Oh, um…sure, yessir." Gwen lifts her brow in concern.
Dane turns around and stomps under a lamppost to look at her. "Sanders visited me, recently. He spoke of your separation."
Gwen sighs and lowers her head, her lips pouting into a sad frown. "H-how is he?"
Dane eyes her for a moment. "He'd been drinking. It was at Highbank, an Alliance fortress in the — " he glowers. "They're calling it the 'Twilight Highlands,' now. He was insistent that I allow him to join us in the field, to search for his brother, the Wildhammer."
Gwen wrings her hands. "Drinking? Sandy?" Her face tenses, clearly fighting back tears.
Dane takes a step forward and raises a hand. "He'll come back from it. He's tougher than he looks, and he's dealt with much. I merely meant to see to your state."
Gwen bites her lip, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself. "Thank you. You really are a big softie under that hard-as-steel exterior, y'know." She gives him a meager smile. "I'm managing."
Dane briefly half-lids his eyes before he nods. "Right, then. The two of you seemed to carry on well. I wouldn't have you torment yourself."
Gwen laces her fingers, unsure what else to do with her hands. "I'm not. I promise. I'm sad. It hurts. But…as hard as it is, I believe I made the best possible choice."
Dane studies her for a time before he grunts. "You'd know then, wouldn't you," he defers. "He'll find his way." He juts his head in a nod to his left. "I'm making for the keep. You carry on well."
She nods solemnly. "Sir Dane…thank you for looking out for him. For us…but especially him."
Dane looks her over again and exhales. "I go back with him. He grates on me, to be certain, but I've grown fond of him, his recklessness be damned. You and I have braved a number of terrors ourselves, haven't we."
Gwen smiles weakly. "Heh…yeah, we sure have. Seems like so much has happened in just a few short years."
Dane grunts and looks off for a moment. "World's changing. Swiftly too, innit'…" he works his jaw before glancing back at her. "Wot'll you do now that you're no longer in Northrend? Keep to the Molten Front?"
"Until the Kirin Tor tells me otherwise, yeah, I think so." Gwen gives a little shrug. "Studying those portals and the Firelands gives me something to keep me busy. Who knows. Maybe the research will end up helping the war effort somehow."
Dane grunts. "I'm certain it will. I warrant I'll see you about there, then."
He tugs his helmet on.
Gwen nods, and finally gives in to her overwhelming need to give Dane a hug.
Dane's eyes shift upwards, past the pointy tip of her hat. He gives her back a few firm, but careful pats. "Alright then, there we are."
Gwen's cheeks are red when she releases the big man. "I'll see you around. Be careful out there."
Dane grunts and gives her a nod before he marches off.