ARI SCARA

Cenarius Sons and Daughters

I recently wrote and still write in an Open RP project on the European Forums. The Story is called Cenarius Sons and Daughters and has a lot of great writers participating. I want to emphazise that this is not something I alone take credit for, I merely act as part writer and here as facilitator. The credits belongs to the talented:

• Zinjeel the Troll Rogue
• Enoonai the Elven Priest
• Cuileth the Elven Druidess
• Cajuungumbo the Troll Shaman
• Balthar the Dwarven Rogue
• Rodvitner the Tauren Druid

In the fear that it eventually will slip into oblivion in the tangy mess of all the other threads massing in that forum I decided to dedicate a little of our web space to the project and spice it with some imagery as well. Special thanks to all who has taken the time to contribute in it up until now. Here goes the story as told by those who have been partaken in it so far:

Zinjeel
As the sun cast its first rays through the fume filled air in the witchdoctors cave in Stonetalon Mountains Zinjeel walked in exhausted and a placed a linen bundle soaked with various gooey substances on a stone table.

It had been a long night. Malakajin, the troll village in Stonetalon Mountains, lay dormant this morning.

The elves in the cages looked up from their restless sleep as the sound of someone entering usually mean food or pain and they were nervous as to which it was going to be this time. Strange gargling noises came from the witchdoctor who was sleeping while sitting near the large pot over the fire.

“Hrrhmm” Zinjeel said. The old troll medicine man looked puzzled but quickly gained his senses.
“Ahh dere you be rogue, have you acquired wat I requested?” he said while standing up.
“There, on the table” Zinjeel said motioning and accidentally revealing 4 striped claw marks across his chest and arms, claw marks from feline predators, he had been hunting without the protection of armour to level with his prey this night.

“Ahh muz exilent” the witch doctor grinned, pouring the eyes, goo and various other entrails from the denizens of Stonetalon Peak into the pot while he hummed an old troll hymn. He stirred a couple of times and started chanting while performing a strange dance and the fumes from the pot started changing colour and became alive like ghostly snakes that floated in and between the crude bamboo cages causing great pain to the elves inside. They convulsed and twisted in pain sounding in harmony with the witchdoctors chanting and laughing and one by one they succumbed to the vileness of the cursed disease he had inflicted upon them.

Only one managed to break his prison and stumbled towards the exit of the cave nearly blinded by festered blisters around his eyes. As he was about to leave Zinjeel grabbed his arm and looked at him with pity and grim determination. “When you return to the Sentinels, tell them that the Sons and Daughters of Cenarius, and their botanists for that matter, have joined their demigod this night!”

He let go and watched the poorly elf stumble blindly towards the spider infested Webwinder path knowing what horrors awaited a blind, sick and injured elf in the domain of the carnivorous and most poisonous spiders in this region…

Cuileth
High up in the sky, over the peaks and valleys and the rough beauty of Stonetalon mountains, a swarm of coastal birds passed by.
They seemed to be too far up-country here, but he who watched carefully knew better that these birds were regular visitors.

White-winged and elegantly flying, with sharp eyes like black dots, they were sent from the grove at Stonetalon peak - a remote place where the mountains climbed up highest and seemed to tumble directly into the sea.

As the swarm scanned the surrounding landscape which turned from sated green to dusty yellow and filthy grey, they clearly spotted a nightelf, strangely stumbling, next to the trail.
He was bumping into the rocks, falling down and painfully getting up again. They also saw the lurking spiders crawling not too far around him, and each time one approached, they saw him wincing and running in agony.

But he seemed to be running blindly.

Without any outer sign, the winged sentries changed their course, leaving the rocky area between Windshear Crag and webwinder path and directed back to their home.
A small shriek of alert went along with their turning flight, but no being on the ground ever really noticed.

Back to Stonetalon peak they rushed, to report their discovery to their mistress who immediately alerted the keepers of the grove.
They were the Sons ans daughters of Cenarius who kept this place in nature's balance, who battled back all noxious influences that slowly crept up the mountains. Absorbed in their meditation and studies, but ever-watchful, they hoped for tidings and signs of any of their lost brothers and sisters.

Now the news were disturbing. And they didn't ponder for long.

Few moments later, the swarm flew back out of the grove and thus led the way to Cuileth, their mistress, who tried to follow them fast on her white saber. She had quickly prepared for the journey, ready to heal and to save the miserable, who might be more than a lost wanderer.

Enoonai
Bruised and battered the elf stumbled through rock and thistle alike. Several places he had deep cuts from sharp branches or stones. Nervously breathing and stopping every time he heard a sound that wasn’t natural, the blind elf moved ever so cautiously feeling his way through the dangerous Web Winder path, barely having his life’s blood intact when he had fled the cave with the evil troll witchdoctor and his roguish lackey. A sharp hissing sound made him freeze in his movement; he stood with one hand leaning up against a pine tree moving his head in swift flicks, trying to determine the direction from which he had heard it.
Above him a huge green spider slowly descended on a thin but strong silk thread spawned from its rear, it was as if it sensed its prey defenceless and toyed with it by means of fear and horror.
Up ahead, spread across two trees, it had spun a larger man sized web and now it slowly positioned itself directly above and behind the blind elf, preparing to set off its trap.
When it was as close to him as possible without touching him it slowly with one leg tapped his shoulder twice, not knowing whether it was friend or foe Enoonai moved his hand to feel what had tapped his shoulder but when his bare naked hand touched the hairy leg of the spider hanging above and behind him he realised the horror and ran screamingly forward tumbling directly into the spiders deviously placed web trap where he soon got entangled in the sticky greyish spider web.
The spider jumped to the ground and approached its catch, smiling in that malicious way only a spider can.
But moments before reaching the squirming blind elf it stopped and crouched on all eight as its thousand eyes had spotted something approaching very fast. Although unable to see, Enoonai had sensed it as well and he cried out
“Help me, I cannot see!”

Cuileth
The desperate cry rang in her ears and made Cuileth hurry even more - but from afar she had already spotted the gruesome spectacle: A huge venomspitting spider toyed with his prey... a nightelf, a lost wanderer, and probably the one the sentry-birds had seen.

But before she could discern any details the spiders turned to her, grimacing as it seemed, and instantly spat its sticky phlegm in her direction - a substance that was feared for its acid and poison.

It almost hit right in the face of Le'lorinel, her saber, and this was enough for the rushed beast to balk and howl in terror. Cuileth dismounted as best as she could before the saber made her fall down. But in that moment she needed to recollect herself Le’lorinel had turned back in fear and the spider had come threateningly close.

"Be gone, greedy! Chew your own venom or feel my wrath...", Cuileth growled, bruised as she already was.

From the meagre plants that grew around on the stony soil, Cuileth summoned the roots and tendrils, making them grow rampant to slow the murderous beast. And her innate access to the most ancient and purest powers of nature, perfected through the studies, made Cuileth shift to a weapon of claws and fangs.

Above, the winged scouts shrieked, cackled and hissed and their sound gave a strange priming coat for the fight underneath.

The venomspitter fled. Wounded, but alive, - just as its victim who was still stuck in the monstrous web.

Cuileth could finally approach the nightelf. And indeed, somehow he was known to her... She had seen him once or twice with the botanists studying the regime of nature – but since it didn't matter now she simply advanced and cut the tenacious web from him, speaking calmly and soothingly to the frightened male.

"Don’t fear. The spider has gone...", she said easily, as if she wanted to play it down. But by that moment she inspected him more closely: His motions were numb and stagnant, his hair matted, his unhealthy-looking skin sweaty and heated.
And his formerly glowing eyes.. now tarnished and extinct...

"Who did this to you?", was all she could ask while holding him fast and steady, since he nearly tumbled to the ground as soon as the web released him.

Zinjeel
Hiding was an easy game for him; he had spent all his life in the shadows, shadows of his siblings, shadows of eager warriors making a name for them selves but most importantly the shadows of his enemies.
He had stalked the elf for two days now surprised at his strange fated luck given his poor condition it was a wonder that the blind and sick priest wasn’t dead by now.
Still there was something to him something that Zinjeel couldn’t understand and it had kept him on his trail, curious and hungry, he wanted that thing whatever it was for himself.

What the witchdoctor had done was very cruel but Zinjeel felt no remorse, he hated the elves for everything they did, their arrogance in toying with nature pretending to look after it when all they did was bend it to their will. He hated them for their false pride, the majority of them proclaiming to be the saviours of the world when truth was that the elves as a race has caused its near destruction on so many occasions. But mostly of all he hated them because of their constant genocide towards trolls that had been going on for more than twelve thousands of years in every corner of the world. Zinjeel was unlike many of his peer who was obsessed by the hunt or the kill. Zinjeel coveted knowledge and of used his affinity for the hidden to steal tomes and manuscripts that told of such.
That was how he had learned of all the malice and injustice of the elves, even from their own writings which he had paid goblins excessive amounts of silver to translate into orcish.

Hiding behind a wrinkled pine tree Zinjeel watched what he thought had to be the end of the elf, a large fat bodied spider had circled him for 20 minutes and scared him towards a trap it had laid, like hunter using loud dogs to scare its prey towards the point of entrapment. Zinjeel admired the spider in its work, the perfect killer.
But just as he thought the hunter would catch his prey an unusual thing happened, was this yet another strange twist of luck, too coincidental to be believable?
An elven rider had emerged out of thin air seconds before the spider could finish its job, and saved the prey in the web. Zinjeel recognised the insignia as he had been assassinating several of Cenarius followers a couple of nights earlier. But it was too coincidental that she appeared here and now.
This whole thing was beginning to get on the nerves of the troll and as if that wasn’t enough he saw to his surprise that the huge feline that the elf had ridden was staring right at him. He held his breath and froze in his posture unsure of whether he had been spotted or not but given the large amount of “coincidentialities” that had happen just now he threw a distraction and vanished into the shadows retreating to a safer spot. The cat turned quick focussing on the noise behind it and Zinjeel made his move and disappeared.

Enoonai
“I.. I.. Who is this” Enoonai stuttered as he with a shiver crawled forward down on all fours. His hand got hold of a foot and he felt a leg. As his eyesight had been him deprived he was more attentive to every other sense touch included and he could feel the fabric and design of elven clothes. “Thank Elune for you, you are my saviour” he exclaimed as both his hands embraced the knees of the elf before him but as he felt they belonged to a woman he shun back and apologised.
“Sorry I did not meant to…” but he paused mid sentence and turned his head
“Someone is else here” he said staring blindly in the direction of what he definitely believed was footsteps behind him.
“Did you arrive with someone, saviour?” Enoonai looked scared as he helplessly tried to comprehend the situation by means of hearing and sensing. A writhing pain from an infected wound on his forearm made him ache in pain and he sat back and tried not to scream.
“I have urgent news to the Cenarion Circle but I am not sure I dare speak it here” he said fear dominating his tone.

Balthar
"Aye, I'll do it...but it'll cos yer". Balthar eyed the two Elves sitting across the tavern table from him as he reached his decision, both seemed pensive and he was sure there was more to this job than either was letting on. He might have no love for their kind...."stinkin' elves", "tree huggers" and a "Two legged pointy eared plague a' idjuts" were some of the more repeatable opinions he held..... but he had even less love for Trolls. Plus the money would come in handy round about now, what with the expenses he'd been incurring recently as he went about his last wee job.

"I'll find yer Troll for yers. Takes a thief ter catch a thief" Balthar grinned more to himself than the pair sat infront of him as he said this, remembering the time years ago when Weasel had just got his "all singin' all dancin'" eye from the goblins in Gadgetzan and Balthar had popped it out of its socket while Weasel slept and hidden it in the barrel of his gun, remembering those exact words as he heard a loud bang followed by a hot stinging sensation as Weasel emptied the contents of Balthar's gun at his backside....ah fun times. It was good to be a Stalker....

"Of course we'll reward you handsomely noble dwarf" the taller of the two assured him, "We are not without means and to see this foul shadow put to rest would be a great relief....."

The Elf droned on for some time about the trouble the Trolls, and in particular this one rogue, had been causing them. Balthar nodded at all the right points, knowing that the longer the story went on the more chance there was that they'd buy him more ale, he'd already managed to get three mugs out of them and was aiming for a fourth when something odd struck him: If the Cenarius are as good as their reputation suggests then why did they need outside help with this? Why would they be willing to involve a third party when it was against the very nature of their race to do so? If only this thought had reached him before the third round of drinks had been bought then he might have been a lot less eager to have taken the job.

As it was he was blinded by gold he sorely needed and the chance to shiv something that had a heartbeat for once. He'd grown sick of the smell of undeath, the way it never seemed to leave you, the way it clung to your very breath and yearned for a chance to pit his wits against a foe who didnt keep hacking at you even when you struck it right in its heart. He placed his vdoubts frmly at the back of his mind and decided that aye, hunting another rogue would be fun and a troll gasping for breath as his troat was cut made the strangest noise. 'It's the small things that make this job fun' he thought to himself.

Sensing a lull in the Elf's story, Balthar slammed his mug down on the table, making it quite obvious it was empty.

"Jus' point me in the right direction lads and I'll get yer man. Now how about another drink? My round...just as soon as yer give me my advance"

Cajuungumbo
As the last rays of the sun kissed the mountain ridge bordering Desolace, Cajuun rode slowly down the path that led to Malakajin home of one of the most vicious troll which doctors within the horde.

The stench of fresh corpses hangs in air and it worried the shaman.
From his travels to Tirisfal and the forsaken controlled territories the smell of rotting flesh was not new to his nostrils but nevertheless always a hated one. That was why he avoided travelling there as much as he could and therefore yet had only managed to become friendly with the forsake, unlike with the rest of the horde that held him in much higher esteem.

But this was different, the cause of this smell in particular was not the stale stagnancy of corpses long overdue in being put to their grave, this was fresh and rot had just started. He could even still smell blood like a foreboding welcome to the place he so long ago had spend time as a student of the evil witchdoctor in the ways of the spirits and elements.

Things hadn’t turned out so well, for the witchdoctor had, albeit recognising the potential of the young Cajuun, failed to impart the vicious vileness that was his hallmark and Cajuun was considered a failed student to the witchdoctor of Malakajin.
Even though he long since had surpassed his old teacher in insight and skill in the ways of both elements and spirits the witchdoctor never managed to impart his evil unto him, a trait that he took pride in doing to all his other students.

The witchdoctor of Malakajin was known for being able to turn saints into sinners and the pure hearted into the corrupt. It was even rumoured that he once took the soul of another troll that had tried to kill him and kept it in a jar in his cave, that troll now supposedly wandered the mountains of Stonetalon as an undead zombie bound to serve the witchdoctor for all eternity or until voodoo no longer could keep its flesh attached to its bones.
The witchdoctor or Malakajin was evil absolute.

As Cajuun slowly strode in the village on his purple raptor he nodded at the trolls sitting in the huts but none them had anything save a discontent look to offer in return.

He dismounted and entered cave feeling how the stench of the dead reached its peak and saw the one thing that he had feared. I three of the four crude bamboo prison cages lay corpses, night elves from the looks of it. So it was true; the malice and the cruelty of the witchdoctor of Malakajin had finally come back to haunt the shaman as he him self had prophesized upon Cajuun’s departure so long ago.
An unnatural deep brooding voice with heavy troll patois accent sounded from the dark
“Yes Docta Gumbo.. Spirits knoh .. Wat shadow lies dormant.. In de heart.. Of de kind exterior.. Of de fallen student”
“Don’t even think about it, you know as well as I that your serpent tongue and shaman mind tricks work do not on this troll!” Cajuun spoke in fluent orcish as he turned to face his old master.
“I will never succumb to your ways .. and you know this, that is why I am here, because you have failed, and now you add stupidity to you list failures with your killings.” Cajuun continued reversing initiative and staring stark in the eyes of the old troll that had appeared from the shadows.
“These elves you have killed do you even know who they were? Have you any concept of the consequences of what you have done?”
“Soo.. De prodigal son rreturns.. To scold de father of de forces he command .. Bearing notin but insult.. And speaking as ignorant as de day .. He firz came to learn of de powah of fire and stone”
The witchdoctor paused and eyed the shaman up and down
“Doo not be soo quick to and witout caution wen you address me child.. Speak of wat you tink you know.. And I will fuel de darkness witin you.. and make ya jorney complete” the witchdoctor spoken trying to edge anger or hatred from Cajuun
“Don’t be a fool you know you never can make me like that old man” Cajuun looked at him with fearlessness and continued.
“Those elves had recently stumbled upon artefacts and a map leading them to an ancient troll ruin in the molten sands of Silithus dating back even before The War of the Shifting Sands. Allegedly they discovered answers to the ultimate questions like the true origins of the night elves, truths so dangerous that countless wars have been fought to protect or liberate them, millions of people have died for the cause of these facts. And after 14000 years all you do is poison them with you vile toxins and leave them to rot in their cages. You are the one whose ignorance knows no limits, do you realise with these elves dead the location and knowledge may be lost forever?” Cajuun voice filled to the brim with sadness over the loss of truth caused by the witchdoctor.
“Ooh.. But dey are not all dead Docta gumbo.. Ya did not tink I didan knoh?.. one of de elves still lives..” the witchdoctor spoke grinning wickedly “What! Why, I do not understand, where is he?” hope returned to Cajuuns tone.
“Ahh so ya can be turned..” the witchdoctor said “And ya will.. Ya see he be dead soon yes…”
“How can you be so stupid, do you not realise what will happen if this information falls into the wrong hands?” Three ball of lighting sprang from the shaman a started circling his head as testament to the fury with which he spoke “Where is he, tell me now!”. The witchdoctor laughed menacingly as he felt anger rise in his failed pupil. “He be in de belly.. Of de big spida by now.. And noting you can do.. Abouh it hehe.. How doez dat make ya feel..”
“Grrr you are a buffoon, I will go looking for him, I wish you rot in the puddle of your own blood and toxin” Cajuun yelled after which he turned on his heel and marched outside.
As he did the witchdoctor yelled in trollish after him.

He left the village in a hurry and travelled north through the Web Winder path trying to find the elf that supposedly was in the vicinity or captivity of the huge spider that lived in a small valley not far from here. As he rode the witchdoctor trollish words rang his mind again “Dun ya tink dat some tings should remain a secret, dat dey were buried in de sand for a reason?”

Zinjeel
Emerging from the shadows behind the witchdoctor Zinjeel appeared holding a small $!$%ed crossbow. His voice was low and barely audible and he spoke only in whisper.
“Dya want me ta go after him?”
The witchdoctor turned to the rogue and said
“No noo heh, ‘is fate be already sealed, once he meet wit ‘is precious little elves and dey turn on ‘im despite his kindness and annoying do goodery, ‘is illusions will break and ‘is journey towards de anger and ‘atred will be complete. I will make ‘im de most elf ‘ating shaman de worl ‘as ever seen” the witchdoctor spoke and laughed menacingly.
“What is it with people and their exaggerated and epic world view?” Zinjeel thought to himself.
He served the witchdoctor for his own purposes but would leave him as soon as he thought fit, still having overheard what the shaman had told he began to understand how the elven escapee was shrouded in a fate of luck, had he, despite of his weakened physique, survived the horrors of Silithus, then the spiders of Web Winder path seemed like stag boars in comparison.
Zinjeel also, now more than ever, coveted the knowledge that the elf carried if it was indeed true what the arrogant shaman had said. “He be still alive” he told the witchdoctor “I could not tell you dis wen de shaman was here, but he is getting help, I saw a she elf help him against a spider and had to flee her panther”
“Wuut!” the witchdoctor exclaimed with anger in his voice “If dat be de case den you must kill ‘im at once, here take dis, it be de most potent of ma toxins, put it on ya arrows and blades and do not return witout ‘is head. ‘e muz not reach Stonetalon Peak Alive!” he said will handling the rogue a foul smelling jar.
“As ya wish ma masta” Zinjeel said and bowed as he received the poison. “Go now, hurry!” the witchdoctor said and ushered him out the cave with his gnarled cane.

Zinjeel ran north as fast as he could…

Cuileth
Cuileth focused on the night elf, not at all embarrassed by the clutching embrace that resulted from sheer terror. But when he winced and turned his head without seeing and even suspected footsteps behind, Cuileth concluded that the sickness had surely started to aggress his keen senses and mind.

She felt like soothing his fear best by distracting and relieving him from the pain.
"No worries, my saber made the noise... No one else has come with me. I am Cuileth Swanfeather", she said calmly while she tended one of his ugly wounds. The cooling salve seemed to melt away on the pulsating ignition of his skin, but with her healing abilities Cuileth tried best to bandage it properly.

If she was uneasy to speak her name for the first time - since this encounter was too strange to make a rhyme out of it - Cuileth surely didn't show it.

"If you had your vision back, you would surely trust me", Cuileth said tenderly, "know that I am an ardent follower of the Shan'do, bound to the Circle by some lesser deeds and services... I bring you where they can heal your eyes and you'll see..."

That didn't seem to impress the sick man who had his lips pressed close, either by pain or by stubbornness - Cuileth didn't know. But without anger she placed him heavily on the back of her saber who was still nervous and on the edge, and walked next to the pair with long strides.

The stranger was not far from swooning, so Cuileth kept on holding him, speaking to him as best as she could. The journey to Stonetalon peak would be long and hardeous like that.

"Prey tell me, what happened?", she tried anew after some time of walk. "Stonetalon is my home, these days an exposed outpost against corruption... If there are any new threats incoming, the keepers MUST be informed at once!" She glanced up to the sky to find a sign of her watch bird-swarm, but the winged sentries seemed to have passed behind the horizon...

Rodvinter
For some time, Rodvitner had felt an urge to once again see the mountains of Stonetalon. They did intrigue him, and the place still had the scent of elven druidic magic. The hate for the Venture Co. and what they had did in the Charred Vale and what they were doing in Windshear crag, he had in common with the elves, and most certainly the druids.

Slowly wandering through the passages, he suddenly stumbled upon a disturbing scene... a badly wounded and seemingly blind elf was limping, huddling on an elven female wearing the sign of the Sons of Cenarius. The scene itself was all but too common, but there was a tension in the air Rodvitner recognised as the Earth Mother telling him that this was important.

Rodvitner knew trolls and orcs, and the hostile tauren of the Grimtotem walked these lands. The elves were easy prey for any who wanted there demise, and something inside Rodvitner screamed that that must not happen.

Wary, slowly... he emerged from the shadows in cheetah form and placed himself in front of the pair, as the female elf stopped in her tracks. Hoping that she would recognise him as one of her kind, he transformed back into tauren shape, held up his hands, and looked her straight into the eyes, with all his mind saying "Fear not. I am a friend.".

Enoonai
The elves moved slowly through the path in Stonetalon Mountains, Enoonai placed in the saddle of the saber and the woman, which had introduced herself as Cuileth Swanfeather, walking besides it. The soft threading of the huge feline made the ride as pleasant as opposed to some of the more bumpy rides Enoonai had endured hidden in a wagon while travelling through the horde dominated Barrens a while back.
“Forgive my mistrust lady Swanfeather but latest events have led me to believe that many seek to end my life because of things discovered on my most recent journey” he said and by force of a newly habit stuck his hand inside the inner pocket of his robe to reassure himself that what he kept there was still intact.
“Not long ago I was enlisted in the service of an elven expeditionary force, twelve of them to be exact. We were bound for a destination that I was not permitted to know until we reached it and me not being a man of arms was brought along because of the knowledge I posses of archaeology and ancient history” he spoke while waving his arms as if talking to a large crowd, probably also out of habit as it was clear that this man was no adventurer or experienced traveller, his clothes resembled those of a scholar priest of the temple of Elune.
“I was sworn to secrecy about the goal and I later learned that Fandral Staghelm himself had strongly opposed the expedition, believing it to be too dangerous. I guess that is why our leader had told us to keep it a secret; it was an unsanctioned expedition and a highly dangerous one I might add” Enoonai felt how the aching pain slowly had dissipated as consequence of a healing salve his saviour had applied to his arm wound.
“Many of those who travelled with us gave their lives to the horrors we encountered so the rest of us could survive and I had never in my most feeble of nightmares thought I would see the things I did” as Enoonai continued his story the Saber all of a sudden stopped in its movement on command of its master. “…Only four of us managed to make it back, and this by hiding..” Ennonai felt the stop in motion from the mount between his legs “Why have we stopped?”

Cuileth
"A tauren druid...", Cuileth answered quickly and her severe tone implied that the elf should better pause for a while in his story-telling.
The words that just rung out still swirled in her mind. Too mysterious to yet overlook them, but too intriguing to let them go. Thus, the apparition of the tauren rather seemed inopportunely to Cuileth, who was certainly not a scholar but ever-curious...

However, in the light of danger nothing would be more welcomed than a strong chaperon. Or some help at least. She nodded politely at the druid when she recognized him as a defender of Mulgore, those sturdy and stoic guardians, patrolling the borders of their green and waving meadow-land.

She looked up to the priest on her saber, then back again to the tauren - motioning that her companion was badly hurt. Some hand signs and gestures quickly described that the night elf couldn't see and that this fact surpassed even Cuileths healing abilities.
So she shrugged and drew a pleading look towards the tauren as a desperate call for help.

What basic intent he had to venture here, Cuileth could only guess. But even if suspicions arose naturally, there was nothing to hide from her part: Her own way was pointed out clearly enough, since Webwinder path only led from south to north - and the crossing to Sun Rock was just behind them.
If the druid would offer to walk with them, she'd surely not say no.

"He seems friendly, and willing to help", she said to the injured, hoping that her insights didn't fail her. "I fear he will be chased away as soon as we reach the peak, but... for now let's try and trust him."

By the report the nigh telf has given, Cuileth suspected that these news had a better addressee in Rabine Saturna of Moonglade and that the keepers of the grove would send the priest there anyway as soon as he was on the mend...

Cajuungumbo
There had been no signs of the elf thus far and Cajuun had paused at a small peak near the mountain wall. He made camp and ensured that Fione got a handful of carrots for supper. She was the kindest yet strangest of raptors in her temper.
Although she ate meat when it was offered her he had never seen her chasing or killing even the smallest deer in the Barrens plains. But when ever a carrots or carrot field was in the vicinity he had to abandon all hope of getting her to move anywhere but towards it. She was like and overgrown rabbit with claws, fangs and purple scaly hide but he loved her never the less.
He often pondered, on quite nights in the wild when he saw her standing on her hind legs, nostrils quivering, if the purple colour of scales was a consequence of the seemingly huge amounts of carrots that she ate.
While she grubbed the vegetables Cajuun stood at the highest point of the peak in a solid well balanced stance. He clapped his hands hard together and started rubbing them as he hummed lowly and felt the spiritual energies build.
His hum increased in volume and as it did he slowly raised his on hand the lowered the other channelling the power of earth and air.
He stared without seeing and his eyes changed colour as if a shroud of grey hid his iris.
What he did see was now where near him, the shamans far sight ability allowed him go gaze far far away in Sishir Canyon, the valley of the huge spider that the witch doctor had told him had eaten the elf.
His spotted Besseleth and saw her lying on a warm rock in the evening sun, in the midst of a swarm of what he could only guess was her children.
All the trees of the valley had been covered in sticky spider’s web and here and there Cajuun could see small humanoid shaped cocoons hanging like giant white silk tears from the branches, some still moving a bit “The spiders liked there food fresh” he thought.
Besseleth had her back side towards his point of view but he could see from the bopping of her head and the pulsating of her lower body that she had her fangs in something sucking the fluid from it slowly.
He feared the worst and moved his sight to get a better view. Fortunately he discovered that it was the semi web covered corpse of a Kolkar warrior, the centaurs of the barrens and some for whom Cajuun felt little but apathy.
But as he watched the scene he realised something that brought hope, if Besseleth would devour something as large as a Kolkar she would have had to have been very hungry meaning that she hadn’t eaten for days. And when she was done she would be so satiated that she could do nothing but recuperate her mobility. “That means the elf was never there” he thought but still panned his vision to inspect the cocoons hanging from the trees just to ensure that none of them contained elves. Most of them, he saw, were small thin ones which he figured were goblin deforesters from Windshear Crag and perhaps a single bold but unfortunate gnome.
One was human or elf sized, the difference was hard to tell, within the web wrapping, and was still moving.
“I better go check to make sure” Cajuun spoke to himself.

What happened next happened so fast that Cajuun never got a chance to ward himself against the attack. Fione screeched loudly as someone or something roughly tackled Cajuun whose eyesight was else were. Moments before he was knocked unconscious he saw that a fat dwarf had mounted him and grinned as he punched him hard in the face.

When Cajuun got to his senses he was tied up and bound to a tree with what appeared to be atleast 50 yards of rope and he felt like he was wrapped up like the unfortunate victims of the Sishir Canyon spiders.
Fione had disappeared and before him near a small fire a dwarf sat on a large tin can roasting a sausage over the flames.
When Cajuun moaned his head pain the dwarf turned to him and said
“Gloin buldigur bur landowar” after which he slapped his thighs and laughed out loud.
He took a bite of the roasted sausage and pointed with remainder of it on a wanted poster in his other hand.
It was written in a language Cajuun could not understand but it contained a sketch of a troll that clearly wasn’t Cajuun.
It did look familiar though and Cajuun searched his memory … someone he had seen earlier ... a roguish character that had been sneaking around the rocky walls of Malakajin prior to him talking to the witchdoctor.
The dwarf was clearly a bounty hunter of sorts judging from his attire and collection of homemade traps and hand cuffs in his belt. Also, Cajuun noticed, he had a cylindrical leather casing with other folded up parchments “probably more wanted posters” he thought.
As far as he knew bounty hunters had the habit of tearing down wanted posters when they saw them to limit the competition.

Clearly there had been a mix up and Cajuun wondered how on earth he could make the dwarf understand this but to his nuisance the dwarf pulled a large clay jar with a small corked opening.
It was labelled -X X X X- and it took no genius to figure out that it contained alcohol of strongest magnitude.
As the dwarf started drinking, probably to celebrate the luck of his catch, Cajuun foresaw a long night of most enduring negotiation with a drunken dwarf that spoke another language.
The dwarf bit off the cork and raised the jar as to make a toast to Cajuun while laughing and then started drinking in a tempo only dwarves can…

Rodvinter
Rodvitner was releaved to see the elven druid seemed to understand. She made some vague motions in front of the wounded elf's eyes, confirming Rodvitner's suspicion that the elf was, -temporarily maybe, but still blind.

He strode nearer, carefully so as not to inspire fear, and looked in the wounded elf's eyes. They were dimmed, and lifeless. Something tugged in Rodvitner's mind. Something he had seen...

Hamuul had mentioned this once during their training. Rodvitner was both relieved and concerned. This was not blindness out of wounds, nor irreparable. It was the result of vile poisons and herbs. Someone had been torturing this elf for quite some time, pouring strange liquids into mouth and eye. As Rodvitner had not followed the path of herb-lore, his knowledge stretched no longer than to the fact that this might be cured, if they could hurry.

Rodvitner looked up at the elven druid on her mount. She seemed anxious and at a loss on what to do; she obviously did not know how this blindness was healed. The blind elf himself stirred, disturbed by the thick smell of Rodvitner's fur.

Rodvitner could think of two things... the Cenarion hold at Stonetalon Peak... and a much less pleasant option... the vile troll witch doctor in the south. Rodvitner shivered at his first and only encounter with that wicked creature, and all of a sudden it struck him -- of course! This elf must have escaped from there, maybe with the help of the druid.

The witch doctor would never allow anyone to escape alive. Fortunately he had few allies, but those he had were sneaky and fast. There was not a second to lose. They must run to the Cenarion hold at Stonetalon Peak as fast as possible. Rodvitner was unsure, though, whether the Alliance had knowledge of the horrible poisons causing this blindness, but if the herbalists there couldn't cure the elf's sight, at least they would be able to keep him alive until cure could be had -- from Thunder Bluff or... horror... the Witch doctor himself.

Rodvitner looked at the druid, pointed at the blind elf and his own eye, let the green light of Nature shine on his hand at his own eye, hoping the elf would understand this means there was still hope. They were probably on their way to Stonetalon Peak in any case, but Rodvitner pointed hastily on the elven mount ant in the direction of Stonetalon Peak. He gestured behind them and motioned that they might very well be followed. He then ran a bit in the direction to Stonetalon Peak, motioned them to follow, and quickly shifted into cheetah form. There was no time for stealth; speed was their only ally.

With a sharp glance backwards for any shadow moving, any light glinting that would reveal a speedy rogue following them, Rodvitner started running, waiting for the elves to follow.

Cuileth
Now running with full speed, the small group reached the foothills of Stonetalon peak at dawn.
The blinded nightelf stayed quiet, in his weakened state desperately trying to catch hold on the strung-out saber. Cuileth sat behind him, holding the reins, not able to continue the conversation now, but thinking... thinking what this strange meeting was all about!

When they reached the first outpost - a well-hidden rock-spur that Cuileth knew well but that would surely surprise all intruders - they came to a stop because Cuileth yelled out a strange watchsound that resembled bird-chirping.
Sentries appeared and Cuileth was just about to explain the tauren's presence on the grove's borders, when their protégé couldn't take any more and fell unconscious.

Help arrived at once: Silent, and without hesitation, the nightelves of Stonetalon peak carried him in.
Cuileth and the Tauren druid walked some steps behind, relieved to be there at last, when one of the keepers, Albagorm, intercepted them personally.

"What be this, child...?", he asked in his strange diction, pointing to the small crowd taking care of the priest and then nodding towards the tauren druid.

Cuileth kneeled before her mentor, an offspring of the Shan'do and keeper of this airy Cenarion hold ever since Cuileth lived there. The one who had taught her most of the things she knew, but who still seemed to keep many, many secrets - or at least didn't reveal them to commoners like herself.

Yet, Cuileth's dedication for the Sons and daughters of Cenarius made of her more than a servant - and her direct and dauntless ways made the night elves of the region recommend her as scout or escort, as healer in the front-lines or as expedition-leader for younger druids.

Whereas she had no idea of the secret "expedition" the priest had mentioned before...

She reported the words to Albagorm who only nodded silently.
"What might be the source of his blindness, I can only guess. But it seems that our tauren brother suspects more about it."
She motioned for the silent guest to come closer.

And with his innate force of empathy Albagorm, descendant of a demigod, could feel the taurens fears and suspicions. "Poisons.. tortured spirits.. and rotten flesh", Albagorm muttered...

But just when the communication elevated to a reading of minds, a sentry came running, in haste, and shouted: "Master, the stranger awoke, and in great pain, when we removed his clothes and found a strange item inside!!"

Zinjeel
The young rogue had barely caught up with elves after having run to the fullest of his capabilities. Luckily the shaman wasn’t there but instead stood a Tauren motioning with his hoof-hands and glowing eyes.

The she elf seemed not in fear of this bulk giant that stood before her and the wounded male on her cat mount and just as Zinjeel had caught his breath hiding behind a tree they continued north together as if they were allies, and in a tempo the troll impossibly could keep up with. “This is getting out of hand”, he thought “Damn the horned bullmen and their stupid druidic affiliation, I will get them … I will get them all” he swore.

He tried to run after but their head start was already to big the gap ever widening.
“But she will take them to Stonetalon Peak, to the Sons of Cenarius and there I will strike!” Zinjeel thought as he ran through the swamp-lake land north of Sun Rock Retreat, trying to avoid stirring up the Pridewing Wywerns guarding their nests.

Upon entering the pass that led to the peak he froze in his movement and hid as fast as he could. Before him was a most unusual sight, a dwarf who in one hand held a rope that led to the troll shaman who had been tied up in away that only his head and legs weren’t cowered in rope and knots and in the other a large brown jar from which he drank. He sang a strange song while he dragged the very troll shaman off and it was obvious that the shaman was in a bad mood on account of his capture.

Zinjeel had to swallow a chuckle that almost escaped his lips as the dwarf and troll passed his place of hiding, a sound that would have given away his position. As the odd couple went south Zinjeel could hear the dwarf singing and the shaman muttering curses in troll speech.
“At least he is out of the way Zinjeel thought, double the pride twice the fall hehe” he thought as from his shadows waved goodbye to the arrogant and purist shaman that had been captured by a Dwarven drunkard.

Zinjeel continued into the peak vale and travelled east along the mountains. Even though he, when all this began, had assassinated some of the caretakers of the grove with ease, time was of the essence and he had to reach the settlement so he could plan his attack.

When the sun was in Zenith the troll rogue crept up on a small rock from which he could overlook the elven settlement and saw that his target lay in bed while the Tauren and the she elf stood conferring with an elf that looked really important. Other elves, healers and botanists were there as well and Zinjeel secretly thanked the spirits for the open elven architecture.

“This” he thought, “will work to my advantage, from here I have a clear shot”.

He unscrewed the lid of the jar Jin’Zil, the witchdoctor, had given him and coughed as the smell of the contents was nauseating. Zinjeel was used to working with poisons but this was really nasty stuff, the aroma it self made his eye watery as he dipped the tip of a crossbow bolt in the jar, ever so careful not to touch it with his hand. Most of all it looked like a brown tar with streaks of yellow in it.
For a long time he lay still, listening, waiting, watching. The elf lying in the bed was bare breasted and with bandages here and there. He was still blind, the troll judged from his mimic as he fumbled around while talking and was handed a strange object by one of his caretakers. Zinjeel could not understand the words, but he recognised the nameWitchwing that was that of the harpies of the Dry Hill in the barrens.

He pondered its meaning and looked again at the trinket in the elf’s hand.
“What ever that object is, it must be mine, I want it, I need it” it rung in Zinjeels head.

The assassin lay behind a rock, the crossbow at the ready with the poisoned bolt.

He drew out various trinkets and placed them on a small cloth before him; Sturdy Bronze Framework, a Whirring Bronze Gizmo, a small leather purse with Heavy Blasting Powder and a small bundle of Woollen cloth. His hands worked eager and precise in assembling the distraction, a craft he had been taught by the goblins.

He lit the fuse and sent the mechanical sheep down the rocky path in direction of the hippogriff landing. When it reached its destination it detonated with a huge bang, severely injuring the hippogriffs left wing and causing a huge commotion in the camp.

Then he took aim and fired his crossbow at the elf lying in the bed…

Enoonai
Enoonai had, in intervals of brief minutes, slipped in and out of consciousness during the fast paced ride but taken every care to let the woman behind him notice, but at their destination he could conceal his weak state no longer and fell of the saber and into a feverish dream.
Giant bugs…elves moving in the shadows…memories from a the caravan through the barrens…the trolls and orcs capturing him and his companions…and the witchdoctors eerie chant as the poisonous fumes filled his lungs when he was trapped in the cage.
He awoke screaming and short of breath and discovered that he lied in bed in the safety and care the Sons and Daughters of Cenarius. He was naked and powerful anti venom bandages had been applied to the wounds on his upper torso. Still blinded he felt that two anti venom soaked linen clots where applied held to his eyes by a tight knotted headband. He could hear people whipering and the smell of herbal tea and burning incense teased his nostril.
“My robe, where is my robe?!” he yelled while sitting up. Someone handed him his robe and he manically searched the pockets. “Its gone, where is it, there was a thing here, who has taken it?”, his words sounded desperate. Another handed him a strange object wrapped in azure silk which he with shivering hand grabbed. Enoonai quickly unwrapped it and felt it with his fingers and sighed in relief. “It is safe and unbroken” he concluded. “Cuileth?... is she gone?” he asked in caution. “I am here” it sounded in reply and she briefly touched his shoulder to confirm this “and you are safe for now, Albagorm is here as well, you are at Stonetalon peak, home of the Sons and Daughters of Cenarius”, her voice was a soothing comfort to he traumatised priest.
He held forth the

artefact and started to explain: “On the expedition we were on, we first stumbled upon evidence of the existence of an ancient pyramid that lay buried in the sand in the dessert of Silithus, when we discovered this strange device in the Caverns of time in the mountains near the Coast of Tanaris. The item looked to me like a bronze pocket watch but it wasn’t a chronometer of that I am sure. Its arms always points in one direction and at first I thought it was in the direction of the ancient pyramid, but when we finally found and dug our way in to that we discovered that it was something inside the pyramid”. Enoonai shook his head from side to side as all around him seemed quite and he was unsure whether he was talking to air or if there was actually people present in the room where he lay. Albagorn sensed this and said “We are still here priest”.

“Oh.. I… it was just so quite. The journey there had been filled with danger but I sense that tales of that aren’t appropriate now, so let me tell you what it was the device had led us to” he continued. “After having defeated a monstrous golem guardian we came to a chamber that seemed to be some sort of library, that is it contained a large collection of stone tablets, most of which appeared to outdate the discovery of the well of eternity it self. Tyelpë Andúnë, our expedition leader, seemed to have knowledge of this chamber and steered right to a large stone sarcophagus”.
Enoonai sighed “I my self could have spend days in there, trying to decipher and comprehend the writing on many of the other tables, but Tyelpë seemed determined that the ones in the stone sarcophagus was the only ones we should take and that we were to leave promptly. This of course was rightly so because as, although I never had to lift them my self, I could tell from those that did that the tablets were very heave. They lied in the clutches of what I speculated to be a giant troll skeleton, perhaps a sort of primordial troll race that had lived before the great sundering”. The elves in the room looked at each other with scepticism in their eyes, most had heard of the myth of elves being descendant from trolls but only few took as more than just horde propaganda.
“It was when we left the pyramid I discovered that the device did not point in the direction of the pyramid, but in the direction of the tablets themselves” the priest said “and our leader knew this, yet he had not told of this”.
Enoonai asked for water and was given this by one of the botanists. He quickly gulped it in and continued his tale. “Strange and inexplicable accidents started happening, some of our fellow travellers died during strange circumstances and our leader become more and more secluded and reserved during nightly camps. At the verge of mutiny one of the warriors relieved him of command and told him that he could choose between exclusion from the expedition or to be transported as a prisoner for the remainder of the trip.”
Ennonai tilted his head as if he remembered something and then shuddered.
“Tyelpë of course denied he had anything to do with the strange accident that had taken the lives of three of the expeditionaries at that point, and demanded, almost as if possessed, that he would get the cat that carried the tablets as he intended to leave the party. He was denied this and made for the life of the Warrior that had taken command. He was quickly overpowered though and sent into exile in the Ungoro jungle. Each night as we camped in the crater only little sleep did we get, always we felt the eyes of Tyelpë from the shadows, he was stalking us, hoping that he could kill us and get the tablets back”. The elves in the room looked at him, again with scepticism and as if he could feel could feel theirs frowning looks he explained “well maybe I over dramatised it a bit, but that is how it felt”.
“As we started to cross the Tanaris dessert we…” the scholar was interrupted by Albagorm’s piercing but friendly voice “Where are the tablets now priest?” With slight disappointment in his voice he said “Oh .. erhm… they are buried … to the South East of here” and held up the strange device so that all could see the arrow pointed South East. “At the time we got to the Barrens there was only six of us left it was as if we had become cursed after removing the tablets” Enoonai paused and shook his head slowly as he looked down.
“We had acquired a wagon in Gadgetsan and used it to carry the tablets through the Shimmering Flats and the Thousand Needles. We even managed to get it up the great lift and persuade the Tauren sentries to let us through, in that we had hidden all our weapons beneath the false floor along with the tablets” “You see we had to snake our way through the Barrens, first east to avoid Camp Taurajo and then west along the mountain border to Mulgore to avoid Crossroad Warbands, and the east again to get to the Ashevale pass”
“But the Witchwing harpies attacked our wagon and soon we all, even me fought to ward the off and although we barely survived, more trouble approached. A Kolkar war band had tracked us ever since the Lushwater Oasis and when they killed our two main warriors we had to surrender. However not to let the tablets fall into Kolkar hands we asked for a moments privacy to bury our two dead, and in an slight of hand manoeuvre we buried the tablets with them near the remains of the wagon at the Northern mountains of the Barrens”
“The Kolkar took us to the Grimtotem of Stonetalon and sold us and those vile Taurens sold us again to the Witchdoctor of Malakajin in exchange for silver and poison”
Enoonai’s hands started to shiver as he recalled the horrors of his imprisonment in Malakajin. All of the sudden an explosion sounded from down stairs and a thump sound, followed by one of the botanists landing on the bed on top of Enoonai. She cramped for a few seconds and them died, a crossbow bolt stuck out from her back and it was pure coincidence that she had leaned forward, else the bolt had hit the bare chested.
“Assassin!” Albagorn cried out and everybody fell to the floor.
When the tumult had settled Albagorn addressed the priest and the two druids “Can you travel priest? If so I think the recovery of those tablets are imperative, make your preparations post haste, we know not what the assassin may have over heard!”

Rodvinter
Rodvitner had carefully stepped into the zone of Stonetalon Peak, letting the elven druid lead and speak. Finally, after being suspiciously glanced upon, he was allowed to enter, and he was more than curious to see what knowledge the druid master here could have. Oh, what he would give to be able to speak to them, learn from them, teach them what he knew.

The elves were quick and efficient in their handling the wounded. But alas, some of Rodvitner's fears were proven true, as they frowned and looked puzzled when watching the eyes of the blind.

Eventually the wounded woke up and started for something... an object of a kind. Rodvitner looked saw a glimpse of a round something with two pointed needles, pointing in the same direction no matter how the elf held the object. Then he started speaking for a long time. Rodvitner could not understand any of it, as his knowledge on Darnassian was very limited and instead kneeled behind the bed and concentrated on the blind's sight.

"Un'Goro"... the wounded has said something about Un'Goro... and there he heard "Tanaris"... they had travelled far... for what? Maybe for this strange object? Rodvitner started to put his mind into listening to something he could understand. He heard "tauren" several times... and "Kolkar". Had he been ambushed...? And then "Malaka'jin". Ambushed and then captured. And this elf had protected the object through all that. The other elves seemed keen on the direction of the needles. Maybe it was pointing out the direction of something specifik?

Rodvitner's thoughts were interrupted by an explosion as the body of an elf landed upon the wounded and a second afterwards had a crossbow bolt sticking out of back.

Damnation! He had been careless. He should've known! For a moment he had thought they would be safe here. Rodvitner cursed his peace loving mind, always expecting the best. The elves were in uproar, shouting. Rodvitner switched to lion form immediately. Knowing the Witch doctor, the assailant was probably alone, and probably virtually impossible to spot. Seeing the attack had failed, he or she was probably on the run, waiting for a new chance. But with some luck, the assassin could have underestimated the keen nose of felines, and not put on enough scent-killing essence.

Circling around the camp, Rodvitner sniffed the air... The odour of poison clouded his nose, but yes... there was a faint scent of troll... one troll.

Using all his prowling abilities, Rodvitner followed the scent to an outcropping. He had been lying here long, abiding his time, waiting... but had of course long since moved. The problem with the followers of Malaka'jin was that most of them were frighteningly skilled.

As he returned to the camp, the elves seemed to be ready to take off. Madness, Rodvitner though, to travel in this state and with a skilled assassin on our heels! But he did not know what had been said, and he had no choice but to trust the wisdom of the elven druids.

That the wounded was still blind was a problem, but Rodvitner knew there were cures for this in Thunder Bluff. He motioned to the chief elf, pointed at the wounded's eyes, at himself, over in the direction of Thunder Bluff, held up some herbs, and again pointed at his eyes, but got as a response that the wounded had to leave in haste; they did not have time to wait for his return.

As far as Rodvitner reckoned, they must be headed for Ashenvale. That meant to pass through Windshear Crag and the Talondeep Path... not far from the witchdoctor.

Moving through Stonetalon with a skilled rogue on their heels... would he dare leave them on their own? The feeling that this was important was tugging even stronger in Rodvitner's mind. It was a hard choice. Leaving them for Thunder Bluff now and rejoining them later, or stay at their side protecting them?

Zinjeel
“Curses, this elf is harder to kill than I could have imagined, almost as if some unknown power is protecting him” Zinjeel thought as he saw the elven botanist fall from his shot.

With the efficiency and speed of a trained hit man he quickly wrapped up his gear and vacated the scene of the crime and vanished into the shadows. As soon as he had put the elven settlement about 200 yards behind him and left the shadows and sprinted through the peak vale, south towards the pass.

At the end of the pass he paused to think at a large log that lay on the path in a blocking manner.
“If they are heading towards the Northern Barrens, to the Witchwing harpies they will get there before me, speed is against me, think murloc damn it think!... have to buy time…” he though to him self while repeatedly slapping his palm against his forehead.

Zinjeel hated those Tauren who could not see that the elves were the enemy, he hated the tauren that tried to protect those that constantly raided and set ablaze horde settlements deep within horde territory but most of all he despised those that were blinded by the dazzling lies of the elven druids.

Sure their females were pretty, even by troll standards, except for the nose of course, but more than often he had seen the treacherous female druids parade around near naked singing songs of peace and friendship and thus attracting and distracting the warriors and defenders of the horde while the male elven druids let flame after flame of moon and star fire rain down on the innocent civilians as the defenders stood like snake charmed puppy dogs and drooled at the spectacle of the female elf-serpents dancing. Despicable.

Zinjeel knew that a large body within the Tauren community felt as he did but was subdued by their pacifist leaders, and he was sure that if it wasn’t for the likes of Tauren like Cairn Bloodhoof and Hamuul Runetotem only the fewest of elves would leave Tauren lands with their lives intact, still Zinjeel kept these thoughts to himself whenever he was in Thunderbluff or any other Tauren settlement for that matter.

Then it struck him as his own thoughts echoed in his mind, many Taurens hated the elves just as he did.
“Of course, the Grimtotem, Ill try and appeal to their anger and hatred, there is nothing they take more pleasure in than killing those they regarded as traitors, and what more fitting of that label than a Tauren travelling with two elves?” Zinjeel marvelled at his own malice.

“But first I need and immediate distraction to buy time” he thought.
His fingers worked fast as he rigged the explosive in a tight package, unfortunately there wasn’t enough blasting powder to make a lethal explosion for anyone larger than a goblin, but it should cause enough injury to slow their fare.
He finished it off by writing a small note with the orcish words:

An offer for a traitor, please read…

He folded the parchment so that it looked like there was letter to be read. He then carefully nailed it to the log and connected the fused wiring to the loose nail so that the removal of the note would detonate the planted seaforium charge. To make sure the trap was undetectable he covered the device with mud and leaves and made it look like it was a natural part of the log, like the lump there a branch once had been. To make absolutely sure he made a failsafe in form of a trip wire in front of the note and likewise connected it to trigger.

He then hurried south wards through Webwinder Path.

When the moon was full and night had embraced the Stonetalon Mountains in its cold winter darkness Zinjeel reached the Grimtotem camp. Grimtotem Taurens and trolls had no direct outstanding with each other. Needless to say they were not allies as the Grimtotem regarded all members of the horde as trespassers of their sacred land and trolls as a race mistrusted … well everybody.
But there were no territorial rivalries between the two cultures and Zinjeel had often visited the Grimtotem camps as tradesman on behalf of the witchdoctor who frequently employed their services. Thus Zinjeel could enter freely often did and traded poison and silver for pelts and leather from the Grimtotem Tauren as two neutral parties in a greater conflict setting.

Still mistrusted as any non Grimtotem in the camp would were Zinjeel was escorted by two brutes to the tent were their chief, a vicious looking black furred Tauren giant, sat.
The chief was huge even by Tauren standards and had a nasty scar across his cheek. He nodded in recognition as the troll entered.
Time was of the essence so Zinjeel cut right to the case and tried to explain the purpose of his coming using hand signs. He pointed at the Tauren leader, then moved his index finger across his throat in a cutting motion as to signify killing, then proceeded with holding up three fingers. He paused and then held up one finger after which he raised his hand as if measuring something of a big stature followed by making invisible horns from his head to signify it was a Tauren. He then held up two fingers and made traces along his own ears, followed his one hand pressing his nose flat and making an archer posture to signify the two elves. He concluded his charades by pointing north in the direction of Stonetalon Peak and handed the Grimtotem chief a leather purse with gold coins.
The chief responded with the words
“E towa ich owachi lo bahlo chi isha, tu sthealo tawa eche naha. E pawni nahe sechalo icha ich aloakis awa towa tu Lakota ish’nealo”

The troll nodded, a bit uncertain and said in orcish “we undastand each other them?” to which the tauren nodded.
“Either I’m going to die horribly as punishment for the offence I just made or he understood me completely” Zinjeel thought as he slowly got up. Seeing as none was more hostile in the way they looked upon him than usual he bowed and left the tent and headed South East out of the camp towards the Barrens.

The words that the chief had spoke but Zinjeel could not understand meant:
“I know the people of which you speak, my scouts have seen them. I would have killed them for nothing but gold is always welcome” and thus the mercenary Grimtotem warriors prepared for an ambush…

Enoonai
“I …erh yes of course Master Albagorm, I have not wandered through the merciless desert of Tanaris, the Thousand Needles home of the vicious Centaur, the wild Barrens with all its savage horde encampments or the treacherous Webwinder Path with is poisonous spiders to give up now!” Enoonai stood from the bed with pride but almost fell as his strength hadn’t fully recovered. He tried to hid this though and pretended his fall was a natural movement and that he blindly searched for his close.
“Scholar, there is time for courage and I doubt not yours, but where you are going is right back in to the jaws of the lion. This task demands more than just courage, it demands strength and cunning in combat plus understanding of the wildlife that cannot be learned form books” Albagorm lectured him.
“I … I know but I cannot ask more of them… to many have given their lives already…so that I could live…” Enoonai said with profound and sincere sorrow as his hand sought the shoulder of one of his saviour druids and found the strong elbow of the giant tauren that had remained silent up until this point.

Albagorm said with a voice that testified centuries of wisdom and yet the strangest compassion “That choice is theirs to make! I would have sent some one with you my self had it not been of the state of things, I need everyone here as I fear us harbouring you and the secrest you have shared has made us a viable goal for many opportunitists, however if they chose not to I will try and make arrangements for you safety for as long as possible. Know however that my responsibility lies here with the botanists and that I cannot guarantee a long let alone permanent stay for you”. The old elf looked questioningly at the three…

Cuileth
The havoc of the explosion, the dead dryad!, made Cuileth burst out in rage, and her slender body shifted immediately to a stout, muscle-packed and drooling bear.
She looked around in frenzy, searched for the enemy, yearned for whatever target she could charge and tear into pieces.

But there was none to be seen...

So the druid let out her terrifying roar that resounded in the whole wide grove and beyond: A taunting roar, a challenge for the coward who did this to them. Concealed...! - so she assumed -working in the safety of shadows.

But there was none to answer her call...

Albagorm, always the sovereign leader, stood straight again and asked the wounded priest if he was able to travel. It turned out that "someone" was to walk straight into the lair of the Witch Wing Harpies, grab the mysterious tablets - only buried there by accident - and bring them back into safety.
Cuileth shifted out of her bear-form, a desperate tear in her eye, and suppressed a deep sigh: It was all too evident that her beloved Stonetalon Peak was no safe place anymore...

"Master, please, let me speak", she bade. All eyes turned towards her and she cleared her throat.
"The priest can't stay here, nor can he go out on this expedition, for he is blind!” Cuileth stated and no-one could oppose her there.
"Since he cannot enter the secret groves of the Moonglades, send him to Mulgore with the tauren druid!” she pointed at the hairy humanoid who tried desperately to understand the conversation.
"Their art of curing includes powerful antidotes... and I trust him."

A long, perusing stare followed, and then Cuileth continued: "Like this we set out in common and split up before we reach the harpies nest.... See, if I trust this Tauren, I do not trust all of his people: Why should he witness what we lift out of the sand?? Why should he suffer or become a threat if these tablets are cursed in some evil way??"
She slowed her speech, referring to what the priest had implied earlier, turned towards Albagorn and understood the consequences for her people... if she would fail!

"Will you give us your blessing to walk this path?” her voice now was barely a whisper.

Enoonai
“It is settled then, go south to the Barrens and take the blind priest with you!” Albagorm said with a sad but determined voice “What you do when you reach the Barrens is your decision Cuitleth, you are my finest of pupils and I trust your judgement, but be weary of the enemy I sense this is no ordinary foe. I will send word to Archdruid Staghelm of this discovery and .. “
“NO!” Enoonai interrupted “please don’t” everyone including the silent Tauren giant looked at the priest with surprise. “I have not time to explain why at this point but please trust me, we discovered things on our journey that made me understand why our expedition leader had kept the General in the dark, …things I dare not speak of here” he said while his ears shifted a bit upwards as if he was trying to hear the presence of what he could not see. “Please I beg of you do not involve him just yet”
“You make little sense young priest, the Archdruid is … “ Albagorn started but was once again interrupted “I guarantee you it would be unwise and unsafe, now I am not raising veiled threats towards the Cenarions but suffice it to say that there is a reason why the General is opposing Tyrande so strongly despite him being Archdruid now”
“You speak of and suggest things I cannot believe at this time priest, but the events that has led you here is likewise unfathomable even for one such as I, that you could have endured what you say you have. Yet I sense in you honesty despite your courage under fear and I will give you the benefit of the doubt. You have one week, if these tablets of which you tell are not here within that time I am forced to tell the Archdruid Staghelm. Do you understand these terms and their necessity?” Albagorm spoke with the calm and command that was his habit when dealing with the young and impulsive. “Yes Keeper Albagorm and forgive my blunt interruptions” Enoonai bowed his head in humility.

As the party prepared for departure Albagorm approached them flanked by a dryad holding a large basket.” Before you leave I would like to present you with these gifts to aid you on your journey. To you, mighty Tauren, I give a flask of water from our Moonwell, may the light of Elune guide you and strengthen the bond of peace between Tauren and Elven Druids alike” He drew fourth a crystal glass flask with a radiant blue liquid and gave it to the Tauren.
“Cuileth most cunning of the guardians of Stonetalon and most dear of my pupils I present with a gift of foresight” from the basket Albagorm took a leather bracelet and handed it to Cuileth, it had a bone fragment from an antler embroidered in the leather. “It has been mine for quite some time and brought me great wisdom and foresight; it was a gift to me from Keeper Remulos, and the antler fragment you see he cut from his own antlers. It is yours now child” “And to you blind priest I give this robe which is more suited for travelling than the scholars outfit you wear, and a staff carved from a sacred tree. The staff will guide your walk where your eyes cannot” Enoonai bowed as he received his gifts.

As the three set fourth Enoonai travelling less uncertain than when he had first been found. He used the staff to search the terrain ahead of him for irregularities that would otherwise block his path and after having walked for a little while he felt more confident in his steps.
“I do wish I could see the wonders of this place” he said and sighed “only once have I been here and although the details of this forest is edgy my memories are all of beauty”
“I heard Keeper Albagorm say that a piece Keeper Remulos antlers was embroidered in the bracelet. Did you know that Keeper Remulos was the one that first invited the Tauren druids to join the Cenarion Circle and shared with them the secrets of nature, this despite General Fandrals wishes? And that he opposed the creation of a new World Tree, seeing it as he saw it nothing more than a selfish notion by the Elves eager to reclaim immortality?” Enoonai asked openly as they walked south.
“I have not been able to translate anything but a few lines of tablets as Tyelpë denied any of the rest of the expedition to look at it while it was in his possession but what I managed to decipher after his passing had the Generals name on it which I found very disturbing”
“Why do you call the Archdruid for General” Cuileth involuntarily thought aloud.
“The Archdruid before Fandral was Malfurion Stormrage. Fandral Staghelm is a druid yes but he is a soldier and army commander more than that. It was he who led the elves in the battle against the Azi'Aqir in Silithus during the War of the Shifting Sands. He lost much in the war yes, but in the end he severed relation with the benevolent dragon flight without whom he would have lost all. Sorrow and pride has made him what he is this day not wisdom or insight. He is, in my opinion, not fit for the title or role as Archdruid and he pale in the shadow of his predecessor, that is why I call him General, as opposed”. An odd silence befell the party and as they walked Enoonai wondered whether the Tauren understood much, surely the names were the same in either language but context was important to understand meaning.
“Priest stop!” Cuileth exclaimed and he felt the heavy hand of the Tauren upon his shoulder just as his walking stick brushed against a tight string on the ground. “There is something on the ground, a string I think …”.
“That is not the only reason you shouldn’t go further priest, there is a note here from your assailant!” the woman’s voice was sharp as a blade. “How do you know it’s from him?” Enoonai questioned. “Because it is written in orcish” she replied.

Rodvitner
As far as Rodvitner could understand, there was still some arguments as to what to do now. The female elven druid seemed to be desperate with the one knows as Abalgorm, about something regarding the blind elf and where to move him now. Sometimes he had eyes upon him, and to his relief they seemed now to be those of trust. Touches and movement and gestures... all Rodvitner could see was that they all feared. Abalgorm seemed to be intent on guarding his own haven, the blind elf tried to stand up and be strong... probably showing he was fit for a journey, something Rodvitner doubted seriously.

The blind elf did shout for something, pleading at Abalgorm... as it had come right after a suggestive tone from Abalgorm, and as Rodvitner believed he recognised the Darnassian word for "no", that was a decline... Abalgorm must have suggested something, and it was a frightened "no" from the blind elf... maybe Abalgorm had wanted him to stay and rest when he wanted to leave... or maybe suggesting contacting someone else who the blind one did not trust. Yes... most possible... A sound there that Rodvitner recognised from his time in Moonglade... "Staghelm". Yes, that was it. The master druid in Teldrassil. The tingling sense that told Rodvitner that large things were happening still haunted his mind... maybe this was an affair in which all elves were not trusted. Staghelm was not to be informed? Rodvitner was perplexed.

Then who was he to help? What could this elf have discovered that all elves did not like? Some unholy alliance? Some secret of their past? Rodvitner could nothing but trust his initial instinct that these were good creatures in need of help.

They obviously were preparing to leave, but Rodvitner became more and more unsure as to where... first he had thought Ashenvale, a natural choice for an elf in need, with the last step to Darkshore and Teldrassil... but if druid Staghelm was not to be involved, that would not be their goal. And an even more obvious proof: ther were hippogriffs here. Had they been heading for Ashenvale or even Darkshore, they would have chosen the tamed hippogriffs that knew the way by heart. Yet they did not. They were headed elsewhere. Rodvitner were more and more convinced he should try for Thunder Bluff, hopefully with the blind one with him; his sight must be cured, and he also knew Hamuul had little but at least some knowledge of Darnassian. He could probably explain what was going on. Rodvitner decided he would suggest this once he knew their bearings.

As they prepared, Rodvitner was approached by Abalgorm and given a small flask of water, with some sort of blessing. Rodvitner could make out the name for "Moonwell" and "Elune", easily understood as the Darnassian equivalent of the Earth Mother. Accepting the flask, Rodvitner bowed. He was sure Abalgorm understood this gesture. Not only was this water itself potent, it was also an invaluable token of trust. Rodvitner knew that skilled druids could spot the difference between stolen moonwell water and that given away by free will.

As they walked off, the blind elf been given some staff that helped him navigate, he decided it was time to exchange some names. He pointed at him self, repeatedly saying his name. "Rodvitner. My name is Rodvitner. Rod-vit-ner." After some time, the elves seemed to understand. The blind elf was obviously called "Enunai", and the female elven druid "Kwileth".

As they were nearing the exit of the peak, Kwileth shouted something and pointed at a note on the ground. Rodvitner's eyes widened... orcish! "Offer for a traitor". A letter out in the middle of nowhere? Rodvitner's mind screamed, and he quickly pulled the priest back. "Back! Go back! Stay away from that!" he shouted, hoping his booming voice didnt startle them too much.

"Traitor", eh? Thinking about the schemes and methods of the Witch Doctor, this offer was most obviously an invitation to the Nether. It could be anything, most probably the parchment itself was poisoned. Rodvitner shifted into a lion, stared at the parchment and sniffed... no... no poison that smelled... but some were odourless. But there was some unnatural scent in the air that Rodvitner did not recognise, but felt wrong. For once he hadn't been careless. He could have fallen for this trap anytime, but his sense of danger had probably saved his life. They could not leave that here, it was most unnatural. Rodvitner moved away and burned the parchment with a small amount of moonfire. To his surprise this was followd by a small explosion that could have been very dangerous had they been nearer. Branches and pieces of log came raining down on them.

This was getting alarming. This troll was so sure of himself that he left obvious traps like this, to almost mock his opponents. This meant he had more devious tricks up his sleeve. "Offer for a traitor" indeed. Betraying the witch doctor of Malaka'jin wasn't anything Rodvitner would hesitate to do. This letter meant the troll had indeed seen him, and if so, he must have seen his tabard. Unless the troll was unlearned, he knew who he was up against. Rodvitner might be peaceful enough, but some of his allies weren't. Even more the reason to travel to Thunder Bluff.

The explosion had startled his elven travel companions. With a grim expression, he motioned for them to follow. This had since long stopped being a casual "helping a fellow druid".

Cajuungumbo
Sun was setting to the west as the dwarven bounty hunter dragged Cajuungumbo down the path to Rathcet like prize bull to a market.

The little negotiation in term of talking to the dwarf Cajuun had tried had been returned only with lashes with his shorts riding whip or a spiteful grog phlegm spat at him, he had even for a short duration of their travels been sitting on the back of the tied up troll and piggy bag riding him like a mount through the Barrens. Cajuun had once dared a cry for help when they had been close to Crossroads, as he knew he had allies there, but had received a severe beating by the dwarf and decided it was best not to tempt his drunk but ill tempered captor again. Luckily the last couple of days had not been that bad, the dwarf had emptied his jar and seemed less likely to wield the whip than when he was drinking. Even though the entire situation was ridiculous Cajuun couldn’t help feeling a small grain of pity for the bounty hunter despite his acts of violence and clear inability t read a wanted poster, but hoped that this nuisance would end soon so he could get back to what he was doing.

The dwarf pulled Cajuun towards the tavern on the hill of Ratchet and many orc and tauren eyes looked upon the tied up shaman but they were all very inexperienced judging by their rags and scraps of armour so none dared intervene or oppose the bounty hunter.
A young troll hunter approached and was about to say something when the dwarf pulled out a three barrelled gun the size of small cannon and the young troll decided that the dwarf probably had his reasons and took of hastily to the west.

Once they reached the tavern the bounty hunter greeted Captain Thalo´thas Brightsun who led them both inside to the back of the tavern room. The highelf was one of the only elves Cajuun knew of that spoke both Orcish and Common. In the darkest corner of the room another elf sat face concealed partially by a large hood and partially by the shadows in which he sat.

All that was said was in common but so Cajuun knew not what they were talking about but apparently they discussed the bounty for the dwarf drew out the wanted posted and planted his dagger in it on the table as to signify something.
The elf however pointed at the picture on it while saying something and the pointed at Cajuun.
The difference between the drawing and the shaman was obvious in that the troll on the picture had no ponytail and a completely different set of tusk. This was of no interest to the dwarf and he kept yelling and screaming until the hooded night elf handed him a small box wich, judging from the sound it made when he placed it on the table, contained a large sum of money.
The dwarf then cut the ropes kicked Cajuun on the lower leg and took off.
Cajuun noticed how the dwarf tore down another wanted poster outside and headed towards the pirate landing south of Ratchet.

The shaman rubbed his wrists in soreness and asked the Highelf Captain “What the demon was that all about!”
“Ahh Cajuungumbo, I remember you, you helped me rescue one of my crewmates along time ago” the Captain answered.
“Please forgive any inconvenience our stubborn and short sighted friend may have caused you, it was all a big misunderstanding” he continued after which he said something in common to the night elf who replied with what Cajuun could only guess was more questions for the captain turned to him again.
“Tell me shaman when you were in Stonetalon did you happen to see an Elven Scholar or Priest?”
“No, but I was looking for him, I hear he had been in the clutches of the Witchdoctor but escaped, other sources tell me that he has just returned from an expedition to an ancient ruin and I would very much like to talk with him, unfortunately your eager little bulldog intercepted me before I could get to him. Why do you ask?”
The Captain translated back and fourth and posed a new question “My friend Tyelpë here wants to know what other sources you speak of troll?” the highelf paused a bit as he could see mistrust build in the expression of the shaman, “He represents the Cenarion Circle and it is imperative that this Elves Scholar Priest is located soon” he went on as to gain Cajuun’s trust.
To confirm this, the night elf produced a small insignia shield with Cenarion heraldry.
It was a poorly made forgery; Cajuun knew this after have spent days, weeks and months in gaining the trust and honour of the Cenarions in Moonglade and Silithus, but why he would make such an obvious lie about this, let alone convince anyone that the Cenarion Circle would hire dwarven bounty hunters to do dirty work, it made no sense.

“It matters not, I must leave now” Cajuun said with great mistrust and turned and exited the door.
“Wait!” Thalo´thas yelled “Tyelpë apologises for any suffering he involuntarily may have been cause of and wants you to know that he will pay a handsome reward if you can locate this Priest and bring him back alive!”
“You tell him that his insignia is as obvious a fake as his motives are dubious, I am not the lackey of sinister Cenarion impostors!” Cajuun yelled back as he strode down the path and out of Ratchet

He had to find Fione again and also the priest who now seemed to be sought by more than just him alone. “I wonder how many others knew of the priests findings and how the elven expedition had managed to excavate something that had lied buried in the sand for many millennia” Cajuun thought

It was pure coincidence that Cajuun had heard of their exploits. He had been resting in a bed at the inn in Cenarion Hold after an exhausting battle with the Twilight Cultist, when he had overheard two of the Cenarion tauren talk of the elves and their expedition and how they had discovered something in an ancient troll ruin, something of greatest importance.
Cajuun had after this tried to question the tauren but when they realised them not being alone in the inn they became reluctant to speak any further of it. Although Cajuun was trusted by the Circle there were still secrets apparently which demanded more reverence.
Still he had tried to track the expedition on its way back but had only found that several of them had died for in their trail he came across freshly made elven burial mounds and he could only guess that they contained members of the expedition. When he arrived at Crossroads he heard cheerful praises to the Kolkar as a small party of orcs and tauren were holding a “the enemy of our enemy” -drinking celebration.
A drunken orc told of how a band of Kolkar had hunted and captured some of the elves and how good it finally was that these hoodlums of the barrens finally fought each other instead of terrorising Crossroads.
Cajuun was of the opinion that there were just as many bad apples in the elven realm as there was in any other but hurried on to try and catch up with them. The Kolkar that had their camp in the foothills of the mountain where the Burning Blade Cultists had their hideout was reluctant at first to part with any knowledge or information about the elves.
During a campaign in Desolace the troll shaman had been forced to ally with a rival tribe and in that time he had picked up the various customs and behavioural pattern of centaur tribal society and found strange resemblance to that of a pack of wild dogs. With that in mind he had challenged beaten the alpha of the Kolkar to a point where death was a near. After that display of power the Kolkars told that they had sold their elven captives to a band of Grimtotem Taurens and complained about how they had been cheated as the elves surely was worth more than a few stacks of thunder lizard skin some copper bars.
Still Cajuun sensed that the Kolkar feared the Grimtotem Tauren just as much as they hated them.
From there Cajuun had headed north west to The Stonetalon Mountains and talked with the Grimtotem who told that they in turn had sold the captive elves to the witchdoctor of Malakajin, a former teacher of Cajuun, one with whom he had great strife.
He had visited the witchdoctor only to learn that the all elves save one had been killed by Zinjil’s Forest Magic and that the last of them now was at loose in web winder path.
Unfortunately his search for him had ended when the bounty hunter had ambushed him thinking he was someone else.

“But how on earth did this Tyelpë character know that the priest or scholar or what ever he was, was the sole survivor of the expedition” Cajuun wondered as he marched to Crossroads.
He took to Sun Rock Retreat via Wyvern and went back into the wild.
A short hour it took him to locate the spot where he had been ambushed and he drew out a bamboo whistle and blew a high pitched tone.
Not many minutes passed before Fione’s head appeared in a bush with a jaw full of Carrots happily chewing away. “Hey girl, how on earth have you found carrots here in the middle of… oh never mind heh I’m just glad you’re alright” Cajuun said as he hugged the large reptile.
All of his belongings were still in his saddlebags and apart from a large pouch of silver he had carried in his belt; the dwarf hadn’t robbed him of anything, probably because Fione had managed to escape with all his belongings when the ambush took place.
“Now to find that elf” the shaman murmured to himself after having checked his belongings.

Enoonai
A large explosion and subsequently the falling of bark and leaves startled Enoonai and as he had done so many times in his life whenever danger was near, he hid behind something big in this case a Tauren. He had just this day learned to walk with a blind mans cane but to run from danger was not something he dared without eyesight. The elf had nearly fallen when the explosion sounded but was caught by a strong Tauren arm and when he got up and he instinctively moved behind the Tauren to avoid coming to harm. “What happened?” Enoonai exclaimed frightened when the commotion had settled. There was a deep silence almost as if his two companions were communicating without words. All of the sudden a writhing pain manifested it self in Enoonai’s chest and he was forced to sit. “Something…is...wrong” he spoke heaping for air. This pain he had experienced before, whenever someone else touched the tablets.
“After Tyelpë was exiled I was responsible for the tablets. I tried to study them at night when we camped but the first time I touched the strange smooth cut stone with the gilded writing I felt a writhing pain in my chest” the priest spoke, breathing more calmly now. “Strange as it was, even stranger was it that I felt that pain again whenever someone else touched the tablets, like when they were loaded on and off the wagon that carried them from Gadgetsan to the place where they are now”. “I fear something terrible has happened” he said and drew out the strange device he had shown earlier and held it up. “The arrow which way is it pointing?” he asked, there was a long silence and the tiny arrow inside the compass house still pointed southeast, albeit a bit more south than any of his companions remembered when he had first showed them.
“What is it? Has somebody moved it?” Enoonai asked

Cuileth
"This is a bad sign...", Cuileth mused while holding her wrist where the magic antler of Remulos inwrought in her bracer felt warm and alive.
For now though, she showed more worries about their actual position: "We are still observed, Enoonai... maybe followed, and soon to be ambushed again! I feel our attacker left more than this explosive warning!"
She looked up the mountainsides and felt like trapped.
"We cannot walk this path", she said decidedly, "but have to find trails through the mountains to reach the tablets."

With pity she saw how the face of the blinded priest twisted in pain. It would be pure torture for him to climb the steep, rocky ridges without being able to see his own feet...
But the tauren, who had introduced himself as Rodvinter, already wrapped a strong arm around Enoonais shoulders, thus leading the way clearly, and making him walk safely.

Cuileth preceded them in her catform, scouting, path-finding, and with all senses turned towards a possible danger: A hidden humanoid wouldn’t escape her scent or hearing for 100 yards ahead...

They made it slowly, but more directly to the south-east, to where the device of the priest had pointed.
From time to time it seemed Enoonai winced, as if hurt again by the moving of those mysterious artefacts – a fact that made the two druids hurry even more.

Too many seemed to know – and to WANT - those artefacts, they kept a secret about the night elves and their origins that many wanted to exploit and use to their advantage.

Cuileth was thinking... would those tablets lead to reveal Malfurions destiny, the passing of the talon-druids (unexplainable for Cuileth till this day!), would they even lead to the abdication of "general" Staghelm – Cuileth and most members of the Cenarion Circle would have their advantages, too...! She didn’t feel bad about those heretical thoughts, knowing that even Albagorm – officially loyal to Darnassus – had his ways and means to ratten the Archdruids authority... but slowly and entwined, like it was the way of the ancients. ...

Distracted by her own thoughts, Cuileth first noticed the troll when it was nearly too late!!
She cursed herself while cowering into the shadows, retreating slowly towards the followers, Enoonai and Rodvinter.
So a troll sat there, in the middle of the mountain wilderness, on a round stone, obviously mediating with his face turned towards the sun. An ugly raptor stood beside him, feasted on... carrots??... and snorted contentedly.
At the moment, at least the troll seemed to be very aware of the spirit-world and oblivious to all real things, so Cuileth assumed. But suddenly the damned raptor sniffed her, looked up from his fodder and started to snarl...

Quickly Cuileth ran back, shadow-like in her cat form, to alert Rodvinter and the priest.
Only then she noticed that her new bracelet had become hot and sweaty, the leather stiff and the piece of antler transparent like a dream-like apparition... "Wisdom and foresight...!”She scolded herself, "I have yet to learn how to reach your heights, Shan'do Remolus, master Albagorm..."

Cajuungumbo
The last rays of the sun bathed the shaman in on orange near twilight while the shaman sat meditating on a rock, trying to gather his thoughts and reason where and how to locate the priest.

Fione was half as exited to be reunited with her companion as she was by the huge bag of carrots that stood on the ground in front of her and she happily tasted them, letting each of them caress her tongue before she chewed them.

The troll had left her two days before and although she sensed it was against his will this time, she did what she always did when he parted and hid. They had been friends for a long time the troll and her and although he did not know much about raptors, or females for that matter, she had sensed that he had a kind heart from the day when she first saw him in Senjin village.
But now as many times before she was with him again. She loved him very much despite the fact that he was as unperceptive as a blind mole compared to raptor standards.
She even at times snuck up on him and jumped him, a game they both enjoyed, this because he wouldn’t notice a Kodo if it was standing right in front of him. Still, she sensed, he often saw things far and away the she could not grasp; how was it possible for one that had a hard time sniffing a rabbit that ran between his legs to see something that went on more than a five minute sprint away.
That was why Fione looked out for him and warned him of the, to raptor senses, obvious danger that often failed to percept. She always kept a watchful eye like any mother would children that play in the wild.

Although indulged in a carrot frenzy her nostrils picked up the scent of wildcat and subsequently elf and tauren, this she knew could mean trouble and screeched to warn the troll that was deep in thought.

Cajuun broke his meditation when he heard Fione cry out. The totem in front of him hand been his focus and had replenished his spiritual energies while he contemplated the whereabouts of the priest.
Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed at the totem then beyond it.
Fione muffled him gently with her snout as to tell him to get up and he did while stretching his shoulders.
“What is it old girl? Is it time to move on?” the shaman said.
The raptor snorted and scraped the ground with her one claw while moving her head up and down as if pointing with her horn in the direction she had scented something.
“You think we should head that way? Alright but since when have you made travel plans dear friend?” Cajuun asked the raptor.
“Dead Carcass, the troll IS truly oblivious!” Fione thought, she had perfectly always understood what the troll said but her spoken language was too advanced for him to comprehend and most of it was inaudible to troll ears anyway, so she often tried with gestures and sounds of warning, still he was is ignorant as a hare venturing into a wolves den in search of food.
The raptor snorted sighing and readied her self for a quick get away should combat commence.
To her surprise it didn’t, as he walked beside him down the path they saw two elves and a Tauren but they walked together as if they were friends. This was something Fione had only rarely seen and she was a bit nervous.

As the shaman saw the company of three approached him he face was almost cut in two by a wide grin, he recognised the Tauren towering in front of him. “Echy ayi aka nu lakot, nak haw ey” the shaman spoke “We are men of peace, you and I”, it was a in Taurahi, a phrase Cajuun had been taught by the Tauren Loremaster in Freewind post a long time ago when he was learning from him.
“Did I pronounce it right?” he smilingly asked the Tauren in orcish.

In almost a year now the Ari Scara and the Defenders of Mulgore had had best of relations and they often came to each others aid whenever either of their homes was attacked. Many times had the shaman stood shoulder to shoulder with this horned and peace loving giant, warding of those that sought the demise of the tauren, orc and troll in horde territory.

“I am glad you are here my friend, I feared the worst” the shaman said and looked at the elves and bowed.
He quickly explained what he had learned about the Witchdoctor, the shadowy troll, the bounty placed by the Cenarion impostor known as Tyelpë and concluded his saying by adding
“…And when I flew here from Crossroads I noticed the Grimtotem Tauren are up to something, an ambush I think, they have narrowed the path leading to the barrens and readied huge boulders to seal it off in both ends just where the slope leads to Honours Stand”

Cuileth
There they came, right on her track! The Troll shaman and his damned raptor followed Cuileth right to the spot where Rodvinter just heaved the blind priest up a rock spur.
The druidess bit her lips in shame and regretted once more that the fateful encounter with the spirits of cat and bear didn't inspire her to perfect sneaking... Would her lapse lead to battle now??

"Echy ayi aka nu lakot, nak haw ey", the troll-shaman spoke and added something in orcish. From her travels Cuileth knew that those words meant a sign of peace in Taurahi, and she relaxed - even though she quickly had casted a thorns' belt on her companions and herself.

When the troll kept on talking she quietly stood next to Enoonai, holding his arm steadfast and concentrated on the strange language that mostly came to her ear in martial encounters.

What did this troll know? And where from?, Cuileth wondered. When she catched the word of 'Grimtotem' an alarm rang within her, because it was well-known that a Clan of these bloodthirsty brutes had settled quite close from here. And they seemed to await them...

If Webwinder path was yet a possible trap, then the mountains trails would become a dead-end... but still there was hope if one knew the Grimtotems' whereabouts and turned their lurking position against them...

Rodvitner
With the obvious communication trouble, Rodvitner had not said much during their travels through Stonetalon, but he had understood some things about the strange trinket: First of all, this "Enunai" elf was obviously very keen to follow where it pointed, meaning they were headed straight through the Barrens, right through the Grimtotem area... and past the Witchdoctor. Secondly, Enunai seemed to be in pain, and every time he clutched his chest he was looking at the trinket, so it obviously had something to do with the pain.

Rodvitner again cursed the fact that there were so little knowledge of the Common language. As his family had been nomads for longer than most, and had only joined with Cairne Bloodhoof after the construction of Thunder Bluff, he had not been into the war with the Alliance, and thus did not share the inborn hate for humans and elves that many tauren harboured. But even if the Horde was at war with the Alliance, even more the importance of learning their language!

So he trotted on, carrying the pained Enunai most of the way, and could only communicate with Kwileth by simple words and gesturing, when she was not out scouting. He had to make her understand the Webwinder's Path was too dangerous for them. He remembered the narrow, hidden trail through the southern mountains, leading directly into Mulgore. If their final destination was in the direction the trinket pointed, so much more reason to make a short stop at Thunder Bluff, tending to the priest's blindness. Though some might frown for elves walking through tauren lands and into their capital, most tauren knew better than to attack an escort of a Defender. They would be safe, and Mulgore would be a safe place for them a good portion on the way. Once they got to the path, that started quite a bit west of the Witchdoctor's hideout, he would make Kwileth understand, in one way or another.

Suddenly Kwileth came back, looking alarmed. It was a bit ironic, Rodvitner noticed, how it was easier for the two druids to communicate in animal form. Scents and smells did much. She had sensed danger, and something more... she smelled of shame... was something on her tail? Rodvitner felt his pulse rise, motioned to Kwileth to keep hidden and...

A raptor, followed by a troll Rodvitner faintly recognised. Ah... a member of the Ari Scara. Hearing a kindly greeting in his own tongue, Rodvitner relaxed greatly.

"Yes, we are at peace", Rodvitner smiled. "You come in our moment of need, troll" Rodvitner said, suddenly realising that the troll in question must be the one called "Kadjungambo".

"So... the elves too, are after this elf? He has discovered something, just as I feared, then!" Rodvitner was actually quite proud of his ability to deduce what had been said, though he had understood little to no details. "I must admit this more intrigues than frightens me... Earlier, they mentioned Staghelm, and this elf did seem to want to avoid meeting him. Does this make any sense to you?"

"At any rate, these elves are following the directions of a small trinket this Enunai here has. I do not know what they are after, but considering they chose to travel in this state probably means they are in a hurry." Rodvitner said. "And now the Grimtotem have set up a trap and are awaiting us..." Rodvitner sighed.

"Kadjungambo... do you know of the little path leading through the mountains straight from Webwinder's Path into Mulgore? We will have to travel a bit into the Grimtotem region to reach it, but at least we will avoid the Witchdoctor, and moreover, I think Thunder Bluff is the only place where this poor elf can regain his sight. And that, too, is a matter of hurry."

"And, my dear troll... I fear we have one of your race on our heels... one of the Witchdoctor's. Thunder Bluff might be our closest haven."

Cajuungumbo
“I knew not of a hidden path” Cajuun said with astounded curiosity “but this troll you speak of, I think that Tyelpë character seeks him as well for some reason and I believe I saw him lurking about a couple of days ago in Malakajin, a dwarven bonty hunter actually mistook me for him but that’s a tale for another time”.
He paused a bit stretching his shoulders one at a time.
“Good thinking to circumvent the Grimtotem ambush by going to higher ground” the shaman spoke “and Thunderbluff sounds like a good idea to find refuge my friend, that is if your brothers will allow elves in the Mesa Capitol”.
“What is with the headband over the eyes” Cajuun pointed at the elf “Is this some strange Illidan idolising I do not understand? I thought he was a villain among elves”
“Never mind though. I don’t like the idea of being in the vicinity of that malicious old fart in Malakajin for more time than necessary and if both the Grimtotem and that troll is out to get you we better pick up pace”
He was just about to move out when he turned to the elves “forgive my manners, I am Cajuungumbo” he said and bowed “I would very much like to hear of your travels in Silithus if time allows” he paused and looked at the tauren “…do you think they can understand a word of what I am saying?”

Cuileth
Cuileth didn't like it, how the troll pointed easily towards the priests eye-bangage as if Enoonai was an object of curiosity.
Even worse, he muttered something about Illidan, a name that always put a sting to the nightelves. Most of her kin were over-sensitive at this topic, and Cuileth judged it as a lack of respect that the troll made reference to this even before introducing himself.

So she immediately hooked arms with the blinded elf and assumed a defiant pose.

Their beginning adventure was so rich at riddles that it rather made no difference to Cuileth that this "Cadjun.."-troll was obviously involved there also. He seemed to know about the witchdoctor, the Grimtotem Taurens and also about Tylphe!, what made Ennonai visibly shake...

Cuileth adressed the priest in a neutral voice, knowing the other two wouldn't understand:
"This is getting more and more alarming. I hoped we could set out for the tablets alone and clandestinely, - after a short halt in Mugore. But too many have knowledge, and in different parts, of what had happened... We need to go at once to recover the tablets - without any further delay! Let's use the hide and seek with the grimtotems to get away... see, we are so close!! If you say the artefacts lie buried in the north of Barr.. "

"But they were moved!!!", Enoonai was close to crying, "I feel it, they might be gone from the spot where we buried them!"

Cuileth looked down silently, considering the time they had left. After one week, so Albagorm said, the circle would report to Staghelm perforce. One week they had left, - and the first day was nearly over.
And if they stopped in Mulgore... what did it mean besides healing poor Enoonai?

...let even more people know about their plans, get even more people involved to protect their mission, and attract even more vilains to foil it...?!

Cuileth looked back up, right into the troll's eyes, who simply smiled and bowed.

Enoonai
They had made halt because a troll had appeared, this Cuileth had told him. First Enoonai had been frightened but then she ensured him that the troll present wasn’t the assassin that had attacked them in Stonetalon Peak. The troll and tauren spoke in strange tongues and it was unnerving not to know what went on, Ennonai feared they were talking about what to do and that they now were prisoners of the horde although he earlier had trusted the tauren as Albagorm had. Cuileth taking his arm and whispering about running and hiding from the tauren and troll added worry to fear and an aching pain again forced a tight grimace on his face as he tried to force his painful cry into a whisper.
“What are they talking about? What does the troll want?” he asked Cuileth when the pain had subsided to an endurable level. She told him that the troll somehow knew about Tyelpë and Enoonai shivered by the mention of his former expedition leader.
As their fate was discussed by the two horde folk Enoonai sat down and asked to Cuileth to do the same. He leaned against his staff with both hands holding it firmly and started telling:
“I’ll tell you something that Tyelpë told me one night long before we had reached the buried pyramid in Silithus. We were camped on a ledge on one of the great pillars of the Thousand Needles; we had been many weeks on our way to Tanaris where we were to locate the Caverns of Time. Most others were resting I was on night guard with him. He told me about the Totem of the Raven and Crow. You see a totem isn’t just some flaming wooden logs horde shamans throw to the ground in battle, it is the symbol and essence of a certain being or phenomenon whose energy can be associated and drawn upon by those who understand and is bond to it. Throughout history troll, tauren, elf, dwarf and even human have associated with the Raven and Crow. It is seen in the ways of the troll and tauren, often depicted in stone and on their wooden totem poles with their sharp beaks and ever curious eyes. The dwarves I know too little of but elven history has its own affiliation with the Raven and Crow. Aviana was once a raven, messenger of Elune, she appeared before the mortal races with messages from the Goddess, and Cenarius often had it carry his words to Elune. For its services the deities granted it the power to shift form and walk as a woman among the sentient races, she often did this, sometimes spying sometimes aiding them. She foresaw the corruption that Queen Azshara brooded in the well of eternity. And when the War of the Ancients broke she served Cenarius, surveying demon activity and reporting their movements to him.
She is the patron of the Druids of the Talon, and it was she that granted them the ability to fly as the birds. Legend even has it that the first harpy was born of her and a temporary elf mate she took when in woman form, the harpies originate from these very mountains were it took place.
The Raven and Crow are the essence of seeing, curiosity made manifest, but the eyes that see all also know the many secrets of our world.
Medivh Stormcrow, Prophet of Doom, keeper of secrets also took the black bird shape when he travelled to warn the mortal races of the demon invasion”

“But alas the Druids of the Talon are no more, why do you think that is?” Enoonai asked and turned his head as if looking on Cuileth.
“I know not the answer but Tyelpë implied that although they had served faithfully as tactical scouts in the war, in the aftermath there were some things they weren’t meant to see, something to do with Malfurions entrapment and disappearance into the Emerald Dream…” the priest paused thoughfully “…something connected with the Generals past and urge to reclaim immortality”.
Sitting talking Enoonai hadn’t noticed that the troll and tauren had stopped their dialogue and now stood staring at him in silence.
“Before he went mad and was exiled, our expedition leader confided to me in secret that what we were looking for was something that could reverse and change what he believed the General had done to Malfurion Stormrage. This is why I dared not tell you when in Stonetalon Peak. Although I know not what to think or believe there is something to it from what I transcribed from the tablets. But there is something else…” he paused mid-sentence and tilted his head as if listening. “They are here!” the priest exclaimed.
The loud sound of a branch breaking followed by a bestial roar made them all look up. The ground shook as a mighty Grimtotem tauren trot out with solid steps from behind a cliff corner. He was flanked by two smaller but never the less huge, compared to the elves, dark skinned tauren warriors. They were wielding huge tree logs for clubs and the biggest of them a large two-handed axe.
Behind them emerged a female Grimtotem who likewise roared and as she did lightning sprung from her palms. Enoonai only able to hear the horror stumbled backwards and away from the threat.

Cuileth
"You have to prove this, Enoonai!!", Cuileth sizzled through her teeth, more sharply than she intended, to the rhetoric question concerning the talon-druids...

How many times had Cuileth discussed the matter, how carefully had she looked for clues...

Nothing! Nothing so far except for speculations!... Now these tablets should bring proof, and even reverse the chain of events?? 'Officially' no one was to blame..., but still, all those ravens were gone!
Gone as Carynion, her brother, the talon-druid...

Since the day he left for the battle at Mount Hyjal Cuileth wore a headlace where a raven feather was entwined. But Enoonai couldn‘t see it... so why should she start to explain...

Cuileth only muttered the name of her beloved...

"They are here!!", Enoonai stated and made her wake up from her reasoning.

The terrible roaring let her jump up to her feet, and luckily their horde-companions were battle-ready as well. Only Enoonai crouched and moved back slowly - Cuileth hoped that those Taurens spared him for the moment since he showed no threat to them.

"bash‘a no falor talah" the night elf shouted in the Kaldorei-tongue as if to remind herself from where to gather strength. She opened her arms widely with out stretched palms and called upon the stars whose children they were. And the power, granted to the night elves in ancient times, returned to this day, to this moment where Cuileth was in peril.
And so the flickering starlight grew dense and menacing, and turned right to destroy the tauren, by a quick glance of Cuileth, who chose one of the warriors for that.

The unlucky tauren continued to roar, but now in pain, because starfire pierced his eyes and burned his fur. He was not yet down though...

So Cuileth revived her chant...

Rodvitner
"Hm, dear brother, I am afraid they do not understand a thing of what you say... I have tried some basic Orcish, but they show no sign of recognition" Rodvitner sighed. Obviously the Alliance was as bad in teaching languages as the Horde was.

"As long as a Defender escorts the elf, no other would protest. Moreover, it is quite obvious this elf is defenceless, and I need help as to know their objectives. Hamuul would know some of the elven tongue... and they could sure do with some more understanding from my part, I believe..." Rodvitner snorted, suddenly feeling like he'd gotten himself into something of which he knew virtually nothing.

This Enunai elf had started to tell a tale... with Kwileth keenly listening. It was intriguing to hear their strange fluttering tongue, but as usual Rodvitner couldn't understand more than a few names...

A scream, a shout, and there they were... the Grimtotems. Three... no, four!

Earth Mother curse them, not now! Rodvitner's frustration of lack of knowing his own actions fueled his speed, smashing down a Moonfire straight into the hulking Grimtotem with a big axe. "Kadjungambo! Take care of the shaman, I will keep these off!" Rodvitner flew into bear shape, pummelling the axe-wielding warrior to the ground and with a massive paw strike incapacitated him.

One bash and another and the warrior were down. Rodvitner turned quickly up, trying to calm the furious bear spirit while keeping its energy, and could only hope that the elves were safe. Counting on the troll to take care of the shaman, he roared back towards the elves, seeing this Kwileth in combat with one of the other Grimtotems. The last one was nowhere to be seen. Rodvitner gathered strength and smashed his bear paw into the Grimtotem's side, making him topple.

There was nothing to discuss. As soon as this battle was over, he'd take Enunai on his bear back and head for the path to Mulgore. He could only hope his rudimentary gestures would make Kwileth understand.

Rodvitner raised his paws and growled, prepared to finish his downed enemy.

Cajuungumbo
Seeing two shamans duel is strange spectacle, like an elemental ballet with totem chess pieces being struck into the ground at tactical positions on an unseen board, the domination of the center and the guarding of the king.
The troll and the tauren woman circled each other and for a brief moment time stood completely still as they measured each other on the spiritual and elemental plane while a slow hum spurred from the two.
Then lightning bolted from each of them annihilating it self when the two bolts collided mid air. The Grimtotem charged another bolt from her palms but was counter moved as the troll who by earth power shocked and distracted her from casting.
Totems of Searing Fire and Binding Earth protruded the ground like mines in a field and the two combatants danced in and between them expelling flame and frost at each other.
Cajuun advanced by a gambit Stoneclaw totem forcing focus off him self, continued by planting the Prophylaxis Grounding Totem that consumed the Grimtotems Flameshock before it hit him and that bought him the time needed to enter a state of elemental mastery and unleashing a high powered bolt of chain lightning to her chest…checkmate.
As he looked back he saw that it was over, the three of them had overcome the outnumbered ambush by the Grimtotem. Charred and shredded tauren lay in the mountain path and standing was Elf, bear and Troll.
But where was the priest? He had been so caught up in the duel that he hadn’t noticed the elf male had disappeared.
Cajuun peered searchingly, and heard the sound of someone moaning in pain. There beneath a tree lumbered by a thrown two-handed axe by chance when the bear had pummelled the biggest grim totem.
“Quick! Help me he is hurt” Cajuun stressed as he ran to him. Together the tauren and troll lifted the giant log that had fallen on the priest hiding in the bushes. The troll examined him thoroughly and noticed a minor fracture… and the presence of something more sinister.
“We have to move him he is ill can you scout and see of the cave up there is abandoned?” Cajuun said and pointed on an opening in the cliff wall on the path a bit above them.
“And you there…” he beckoned the elven women closer “come help me carry him but careful he is very hurt, near broken”. With various gestures and hand movements he made clear that they had to move the priest but that the he was very fragile in the state he was in. Together the two of them managed to move him into what appeared to be the abandoned home of a cave bear.
They placed him on a soft bed of hay and the Shaman started practising his craft while he talked and explained what he was doing. “I know who did this” he said while he slowly brushed the priest over the eyes. “I know because tried to make me to do it to others” Cajuun let the green glow from his hands stream through the elf and mend the fracture in his legs caused by the falling tree, and slowly the bones and cartilage realigned and was restored to their place and unity in the elf’s leg.
“When I first was taught the ways of the spirits and elements back in Durotar, I was told the importance of balance in all things. Balance is detachment from the singular purpose. It is the duality and two sidedness of all things that makes the one, whole and completion. Never take if you cannot give give, never hurt if you cannot heal, never kill if you cannot give life!”
The shaman sighed. “The one responsible for this” he said and held his one hand on the priest’s forehead “… has forgotten this, he now only seeks to tip balance, provoke differences and stir up old hatred”
He dug out two small totems and placed them sturdily in the ground, one on each side of the priest head and chanted a small verse that made them glow with blue and green light.
“The poison he has inflicted is made from the pulp of Moss Courser eyes, the sap of special blob that only lives in the Stonetalon Mountains, keratinized cells most commonly found in the twilight felines whisker and a powder made from fey dragon scale. The effect of the poison is that it will absorb moisture from muscle tissue and organs causing non permanent atrophy and eyes that grow swollen and sore causing temporary blindness.”
The light from the two totems intensified as the shaman explained further “this totem cures the disease in the elf’s eyes and the other nullifies the poison” He clapped his hand hard together and started rubbing them rapidly until a bright light shone from them. He then placed his palm on the elves eyes and chanted in troll as he let the healing energies surge through to the elf. After about ten minutes of chanting the shaman seized and stepped back. “Now…” he sighed in exhaustion “it is done”.
The light faded from totems beside the priests head.
“You can remove the blindfold, but do it slowly he hasn’t used his eyes for quite some time…” The troll picked up some branches and prepared a bonfire.
“He may need a little rest before we can move on, ill make some soup for you if you are hungry”
Cajuun prepared a murloc fin soup in a small pot from his pack and when it was done he offered it to the others, holding fourth a bowl with one hand and making eating gestures with the others.
“Eat… it will help you get your strength back”
As he ate him self he talked in between the spoonfuls “In troll culture knowledge and lore of elements and spirits are kept by witchdoctors and medicine men, the shaman is both”

Cuileth
The art of the shaman impressed Cuileth visibly. Anxious she stood, watching the totemic ritual and admitted to herself that were was nothing comparable to this kind of healing. It was the display of what made shamans of the Horde so special - and Cuileth knew, the veterans of the alliance cursed them for this! - But in this case she praised the totem-wielder for he really helped their cause: Enoonai would be able to walk on his own, and with the hurry necessary, to recover the tablets...

But for now it seemed, that they had to spend the night in that small cave - to give Enoonai the chance to fully recover, and to get a little rest.
The sharing of the soup was yet another friendly sign of the troll that made Cuileth drop her suspicions, and so they pitched camp together in that narrow place.

"I want to thank you, Cajoon-troll", Cuileth said when they all leaned back tiredly against the cave-wall, waiting for the night. Although he didn't understand the wording, the sound of her voice would make it clear - so she hoped. To stress her point, she produced a vial from a small pouch, filled with nightblue liquid and smelling sweet lotus from distant lands. She handed it to the troll while bowing her head, and he recognized it - so she guessed - as a potion of dreamless sleep.

"You shall sleep in peace tonight", Cuileth said, clearly seeing the shamans exhaustion from the ritual. "While we two watch over you...and Enoonai". She nodded towards Rodvinter, and motioned that they'd wake alternately for the safety of the small group.

When it was Cuileths turn to wake and the three males snored in peace, she sat in front of the cave in cat-form, stared into the distance that were the barrens. And from that high ventage-point she even saw the rising smokes of Crossroads - city of the flats...

...when she suddenly saw swift riders - only small points to her eyes, but with considerable dust-clouds behind them - moving parallel to the road in direction Crossroads, Ratchet?
Cuileth rubbed her eyes , but made haste to wake up her companions.

Zinjeel
“If I know the luck of that elf well enough I bet they will survive the Grimtotem ambush, the Grimtotem are strong but not too bright, have to have a contingency plan” Zinjeel thought as he crossed into the barrens.
“Hmm maybe hired thugs… yes hired thugs hehe” the rogue grinned as he kept running.
In Crossroads there were always plenty of people scoping for an easy way to make a quick silver fortune.
“If only the Grimtotem buys me enough time to get to Crossroads and back” he thought and started sprinting again.

As Zinjeel reached Crossroads he was exhausted from the sprinting and running march that he had done all the way from Stonetalon. There was as often quite the ruckus in the center of the horde trade station as battle eager orcs and trolls and Tauren looked for any excuse to prove themselves in battle and that often let to honour duelling over insignificant issues. But Zinjeel liked that, crowds always served his purpose. A ring of people had gathered around two Tauren bare knuckle fighting and everybody’s attention was aimed the horned contenders.
“Excuse my lord” as he bumped into a noble looking old orc dressed in fine silk clothes “I didn’t mean to harm you, here have this fresh apple as a token of my apology” the rogue said and held forth a shining red apple to the face of the orc with one hand while the other carefully but with years of rehearsed precision lifted a leather purse from his belt.
“Oh no harm done troll hehe always lots of tumult when the young test their strength in the market place” the old orc said and smiled. “Indeed good sir” Zinjeel spoke, bowed and backed away into the inn.

He found an alcove and after having ordered something to drink he pulled the curtain and examined his loot.

The purse contained more than the rogue had hoped for, 6 pieces of gold and an emerald.
“Not bad…not bad at all, must be my lucky day the rogue thought to himself”

“Must not forget why I am here… cannot rest long” he stressed himself.
He took up pen and paper and wrote and drew a wanted poster with the image of the elven priest as well as it picture was in his mind:

WANTED

For his crimes of murder again the children of horde. The reward of 500 pieces of silver will be given to the live capture of this elf.


He may be travelling with a female elf and a tauren traitor. The reward will only be granted if he is delivered alive and in unspoiled condition to Zinjeel the clockmaker in Crossroads, feel free to dispose of his companions.

Zinjeel grinned as he finished the poster, “this should draw just the right crowd, those without conscience would be drawn in by the fat bounty and those with a bit of moral would feel like they did the right thing when the see that the elf was a murderer of children” he thought.
“And even better” he thought, “the elf is blind so I can cut off half the reward to anyone bringing him back claiming that they broke contract in that the elf would be spoiled”.
Zinjeel grinned wickedly at his own evil genius and went outside and hammered the poster on a wooden pole that seemed to serve just that purpose.

Just then someone yelled “where is my purse, thief THIEF!” and Zinjeel saw that as his cue to head back to the northern part of the barrens, into the pinewood forest where the witchwing harpies lived as he was near certain about two things:

1. That the voice yelling in the crowd was the old orc the rogue “bumped” into earlier.
2. That the elves were heading that way although he wasn’t sure.

And so he left Crossroads and started running once more…

Enoonai
The air was thick with electrical tension as the fight had started. He had fallen down and tried to back away, without his eyesight his ears were a lot more sensitive and unprepared for the sounds of explosions and taurens and the roaring of a bear. Enoonai had crawled backwards on his knees, stopped and tried to hide in a bush as he had to hold his ears. But he fell and landed flat on his back. Before he could get up the sound of something heavy whirred through the air… “a big insect?” he speculated from the humming sound but before he could reason through it turned into a crashing sound followed by that of a tree falling. “Do I jump left or right” his mind raced but too late, the tree landed crushing on his legs and he screamed at the full capacity of his lungs before passing out.

Nightmares of birds picking his dead eyes … the chanting of the troll witchdoctor … then he felt someone touching his legs and the pain disappeared … more chanting and then silence … then he felt as if something indefinable was taken from him… like a headache vanishing.

Enoonai when he felt a gently touch at his temples. Soft fingers carefully lifted off the headband with the bandages. “No … my eyes!” he cried out, but he felt her hands on his slowly moving them down as he had cowered his eyes as to keep the headband on. “shh its ok…its ok” her voice spoke. Ever so slowly the band and the bandages were removed. Enoonai kept his eye closed but the pain was gone, both in his legs and head. “its alright priest… you can open your eyes” her soft voice sounded more calm now than when he had told about the tablets and as he say he slowly opened his eyes. Although the cave he was in was only lit by the flickering lights of a campfire, having regained his sight was an overwhelming thing and he gasped as his brain started to process the overload of new information that had been missing while he was blinded. He saw and noticed every little crack in the cave ceiling, he noticed the thousand nuances of grey and brown colours in the wall and he saw her. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined” he exclaimed but when he realised that he hadn’t been able to filter his impulsive thought form speech he blushed and looked away. He saw the tauren towering behind her and looking down on him with concern and passionate sympathy and he saw a troll who sat back bent by the fire and stirred in a pot.

The troll spoke in orcish and although Enoonai recognised the voice the words were incomprehensible. Still the intention seemed understandable he wanted them to eat something, a soup it looked, from small wooden bowls. He sat by the fire with his companions and ate and as he did he remembered how hungry he really was, it has been days since he last ate.
Still a bit embarrassed he looked at Cuileth but tried to avoid looking her in the eyes. “The tablets I spoke of … what I was trying to say before we were ambushed… they are a prophecy.” He spoke slow and choosing his words with great care as to avoid further embarrassment “They told of the general and the war of the shifting sands…but they were written long before this”
“Rest now priest, when we wake we will move on and you will have your strength back” her voice was pleasant yet Enoonai sensed a trace of sorrow in it “What happened?” he thought but this time he dared not speak. The troll looked exhausted but yet managed to smile at him in a friendly manner, something Enoonai had never seen a troll do.
He took Cuileth ad vice and curled up on the hay and quickly fell asleep from part exhaustion and part visual overload in his brain, he could not manage all the information just yet.

Cuileth
"Get up, sleepys... up!!"
The cave was dark-grey from the weak light of early dawn, and no life-sign heralded the new day yet in this hour after night.
Cuileth poked the Troll and the Tauren gently and lifted her voice, but next to Enoonai - who was on the mend still - she took more precaution, kneeled beside him and stroke his hand.
"We are close... the earlier we rise the safer is the road. Try and get up, Enoonai. How are your eyes??" The troll advanced as well and had a look at the priest who really seemed to feel better - however, from his thoughtful look Cuileth could guess he was more worried than ever.

When they stepped out of the cave after a bite of bread, the trace of the speedy traveller down in the valley was gone. But Cuileth alerted her companion nonetheless:
"I saw someone running down the road to Crossroads... I lost him out of sight shortly before the gates. We better hurry, who knows what it was...."
Enoonai didn’t seem to be surprised by the claim of Cuileth's sharp gaze. With his eyesight returned, he even seemed to peer right into the remote town that was dozens of miles away, but only one hour distant as the raven flies.

No Grimtotem tauren intercepted their cumbrous course - for now! - and Cuileth praised the reign of the night that lasted so long even over a new day. But when they slowly made the winding rockpath down to the more gentle foothills, the first rays of sunlight colored the barrens and also the place they were heading for: a small ritual-circle of stones where the fallen members of the expedition have been buried.

Cuileth noticed some harpyes nests stuck on the east side of this secret rock-encircled valley and considered the place as the nastiest of deathtraps, where the fate of the traveller was forgotten and his cries unheard.

"So, it is here?", she asked...

Rodvitner
Rodvitner was still amazed. The knowledge the troll shaman held was very impressive. Enunai had regained his sight and by some magic it seemed, the Grimtotem did not disturb their journey further.

However, something did stir in his mind... earlier he had received a strange letter of threat, carrying the sole sign of "Z", telling him to stay out and accusing him for fraternising with the enemy... probably some Grimtotem who was vexed to see a tauren travelling with an elf. But that letter was not his matter of concern... it was the crow that had come to him during the night.

There were stirring in the Emerald Dream, and Hamuul himself had called for several druids to assist in this matter. Rodvitner knew these stirrings were common and normally led to no further problems, but a calling from Hamuul could not be ignored, though the matter present was pressing and of serious concern. Rodvitner felt torn.

As they entered the Barrens, Rodvitner mind was set. He must leave his companions on this travel to heed the call. He would head back as soon as the stirring in the Dream had been settled.

He motioned to Kwileth... put a front hoof on his heart, touched his head, and looked her in the eyes with profound sadness. Then he pointed towards Mulgore and Thunderbluff, and again at himself, looking over the mountains that marked the border between here and his homelands.

Kadjungambo had already got the message. "Yes, it's true" Rodvitner said "I have to leave you for the moment, my master calls me. But I'll be back as soon as possible, and if you have the possibility, keep me informed. I'll be in Thunder Bluff".

Still preferring to let the cheetah spirit in himself feel the joy of running, than riding a Kodo, he cave one last fareweel to Kwileth and Enunai, formed into a cheetah and set off in the direction of Mulgore.