#his parents were druids and his mother raised him to be a gentle but strong lad

[bright-cloud]

Miscellaneous screenshots of my little cleric: Basil ✨

[faerune]

emily do you have any thoughts or ideas you could share about your wow ocs 🥺🙏 all of their pinterest boards are gorgeous!!

SOPHIIIIE my beloved

so like the Main Crew who is responsible for like most of what is attributed to the player characters. they all start as a group of adventurers in TBC, with fiona and vaelin sent by the kirin tor most notably to find what happened to khadgar and for vaelin also kael'thas cause what's he doin out there....

Ahma: draenei protection paladin. the unofficial leader of the gang. she was born on draenor and her parents died during the siege of karabor. ahma and her sister were unofficially adopted/taken under the wing of the prophet velen. she eventually trained as a paladin after finding she did not have the gentle touch or patience for priesthood.

Fiona: human frost mage. was born to poor farmers in hillsbrad foothills. once her magic manifested, her mother basically sold her to the kirin tor of dalaran. she has mommy issues and regularly sends her wages back to her family it's all very sad but she's a bitch on the outside so no one knows wow revolutionary character. (but i love her sm) constantly serving cunt

Vaelin: blood elf fire mage. born to an elven prostitute who died when he was young, he lived a few years as an urchin and an orphan until the kirin tor found he had a talent for magic essentially saving him. he's a dickhead, he and fiona butt heads, they fall in love, have a baby, we love to see it. also he might be a sunstrider bastard? possibly? we don't know.

Durin: dwarf beastmastery hunter. veteran of the first, second, and third wars. he was part of a guild of adventurers who were responsible for everything in Classic. during the re-opening of AQ, the group was slaughtered by C'Thun including his wife: sereda. durin was one of the few who survived and the only one who was not driven insane by such close proximity to an old god. this was simply because of dumb luck as he was knocked out early in the fight. he's grumpy and does Not have the patience to deal with all these young adventurers but really he's just scared to bond with them and lose them. also he has a griffon who he loves SO MUCH (who i haven't named yet).

Trixie: gnome subtlety rogue. born to two extraordinary famous gnomish inventors, she set out on her own because her parents were very....overbearing considering she's their only child and the whole lost of gnomeragan thing. kleptomaniac. likes to blow things up. besties with durin.

during cataclysm, the last two members of the party join round everything out.

Lanayla: night elf resto druid. the sweetest pea. born to two druids and grew up in darkshore as her parents had left after the druid order back then did not accept women. her mother sadly died when she was super young and her father trained her as a druid and it was pretty much just them out in their little cottage <3 they were super close, one of my few OCs with a good dad lmaooo. she seeks out help for darkshore during the cataclysm and is met with wellllllll everywhere needs help by the other night elves. BUT the worgen who had been saved and given refuge by the night elves volunteered to help.

Warwick (first name James but he never goes by that): worgen rogue/warrior (haven't decided yet oops). one of the worgens who first volunteers to help lanayla! he's more soft spoken and thoughtful which bless him gets drowned out with all the strong voices i talked about above. he was the bastard son of greymane's sister and was raised alongside HIS children when his mother died. greymane is like a father to him and when liam dies and tess abdicates it falls to him to become heir. he and lanayla fall in love and eventually head back to gilneas after shadowlands to rebuild <3

there's a bunch of other characters who are allies/associated with this group along with a group similar of horde characters but i cannae get into that this is already long and obnoxious

[queenrhenpendragon]

You know whose arc gets me every time?

Dameon’s. Dameon Maurva's arc is so beautiful and significant and affects not only himself but multiple other characters and also the entire heckin plot of the game and it moves me Every. Single. Time.

So I’m going to rant  about it, welcome to the post I’ve been waiting to make for fourteen years.

First of all, this precious sun, this dear one, this absolute angel, was most likely raised mainly by an Ahriman sympathizer-- like, c'mon, am I supposed to believe Talia kept a child in the dream realm? Even without the nightmares it's dangerous, and very isolated. If something were to happen there would be nowhere she could send Dameon while she dealt with it. It’s one thing in fanfiction, but when I actually consider the logistics, either she was a truly terrible, irresponsible parent, or Dameon lived in Aveyond with his father. I've played Ahriman’s Prophecy; responsibility is Talia's middle name. Dameon was raised in Aveyond.

He has to have been a lonely child. He most likely had no human friends, and definitely none his age. Maybe the binis or fairies or sometimes Vata babysat him when Mr. Maurva was unavailable. Maybe not. Either way, such contact couldn’t replace his need for love and validation from his incredibly busy and important parents.

He probably constantly sought his parents' approval and was constantly falling short because how do you impress an immortal sun priest, millenia old and the last of his kind? Especially one who is apparently becoming disenchanted with the ideals he once fought for, the ideals his fellow priests died for. How do you impress a half-fairy who saved the world at the tender age of 17, who then became the Guardian of Dreams and is responsible for the safety and well being of every mortal creature? Especially! When! You only see them when they’re not busy keeping the universe running smoothly!

Furthermore. 

Please understand that I love Talia and do not wish to vilify her in any way. I point out her flaws because I love her, because her shortcomings are so human and tragic and are part of what make the story as impactful as it is. And Talia... does not easily express affection. She is not likely to have cuddled Dameon during the times his father took him to the Dreamworld-- which just can't have been often, I just can't imagine a parent who even kind of cared about their child taking them to such a place frequently. She is not likely to have praised him or spent any notable amount of time showing interest in his interests. I do not say this to condemn her. She had a lot of responsibilities. She had never been a mother before-- and yes, she had a great example of motherhood in her Grandmama, but her own mother also left her in the care of others, abandoned her to pursue a louder call. Is it any wonder that she ultimately did the same to her own child?

She has no real relationship with Dameon. Even without all the evidence I have already laid out, this much is obvious in the way they speak to and about each other. Talia doesn't even mention Dameon is her son when she first tells Rhen about him. She gives him no more than an epithet, "Dameon, the sun priest." She does not express particular concern over his safety, even though she knows the druids are in danger and she herself was almost killed. 

And Dameon calls her “mother,” and it is not because of the dialogue style of the game. Talia calls her parental figure “Grandmama.” Rhen calls Tailor “Pa” and “Daddy,” and Ma is known only as “Ma.” But Dameon calls Talia “Mother,” and his father “Father,” because that is the level of familiarity between them. The Maurvas live a strict, solitary life. Is it any wonder that Dameon is stiff and formal at the beginning? Is it any wonder he struggles to connect with others beyond a thoughtful compliment or an antiquated form of greeting? He doesn’t like himself, let alone trust himself. No one has ever taught him how to. He is so isolated, and lonely, and touch-starved, and unloved, and if that was the end of his character it would still move me. But there is more.

Talia literally killed his father, her own husband. It had to have happened when Dameon was still very young. If you take into account Devin’s apparent age, and the fact that a barely-aged Jack in av2 remembers Alicia as queen of Thais when we know that you can only ascend to the throne of Thais if you are married, and a few other details which I would be happy to pull up if anyone is interested, you will realize that Dameon can’t possibly be more than a year older than Rhen. More likely, he is younger, and this would be in line with the other canon ships we see throughout the Aveyond series.

 And we found out in Rhen’s Quest that his father was murdered “many years ago.” MANY! YEARS! He was still a child, maybe 11 years old, at my best guess. He most likely hadn’t even attended a magic school yet. It’s possible he wasn’t even thinking about it. And then he had to take the position as Druid of Light. When he was a child, still mourning the death of the person most precious to him, at the hands of the only other person he could have had any semblance of a relationship with in all of Aia.

The people who were supposed to be teaching Dameon how to be gentle, loyal, and upright instead taught him how to hurt, and betray, and murder those closest to him. Even without Ahriman's influence, how is a child raised in that environment supposed to turn out healthy and good? 

And yet he is still good! He is gentle and thoughtful towards not just Rhen but everyone he meets on the quest. That includes heckin MAD MARGE if you forgot. That includes an actual ogre. That includes people who are spiteful and dismissive towards him. He treats Rhen like she outranks him, the Guardian of the Sun, when she is still a peasant with a practice sword. He is kind to literally everyone except Talia, and he is at least respectful even to her. He never raises his voice at her. He never calls her anything except Mother. Never traitor, never murderer, never any of the curses we know Amanda had no qualms about using because she used them plenty in AP. Just Mother. 

In fact he appears to be the reason Ahriman decided against killing Talia. Yes, Dameon wants justice for his murdered father. I think anyone who is being honest with themselves can admit they would, too. But he doesn’t want to kill her. He doesn’t want her to die. He just wants her to understand what she did, to understand the hurt she caused. He is apparently so against killing her that Ahriman has to change his carefully laid plans before he can convince Dameon to change sides.

And consider. During all of this, Dameon is literally possessed by Ahriman, or under his demonic influence, or however you want to phrase it. This influence likely began even before the game, but even if you ignore that, it is no small thing. Remember how quickly Mel became corrupted under this influence? Remember how quickly Galahad, who resisted the urge to drink blood for actual centuries, became corrupted? The fact that Dameon has any shred of goodness at all, after years of exposure to such darkness, even if you ONLY take into account the actual duration of the game, is evidence that Rhen is right; Dameon has a genuinely good, incredibly strong heart.

And speaking of that conversation. Please allow me to share some of my favorite screenshots in the entirety of the series. 

My precious sun really went from this: 

To having this very level-headed and respectful conversation, of which I have shared only two tiny snippets:

To THIS:

This. Is tangible, real difference, at a rate which makes sense, and I am so proud of him. I have seen people try to dismiss it, and his other development, by saying he is just pretending in order to make Rhen trust him. That literally. Does not make any sense. First of all, if this was part of his efforts to persuade Rhen to join Ahriman he would have done absolutely anything except agree that perhaps Talia was right. He would have tried to convince Rhen that Ahriman was right, not admitted he may have been wrong. And second, even if you ignore that incredibly obvious discrepancy, he either would have forgotten about the conversation with Rhen by the time they returned to the sun shrine and his mother asked him the question again, or he would have pretended to have forgiven her completely. Instead, he acts as though he is uncertain, because he is uncertain. 

And his actions in the dream realm, confronting and fighting Agas for attacking his mother and desecrating her shrine, prove that he is sincere. Of course it takes him some time. Of course he hesitates. Forgiving someone for taking your parent from you is an enormous act. Forgiving someone you trusted for causing you that much pain is unfathomable. His progress is profound and inspiring and does not deserve to be treated like any less.

And he makes this progress while still under Ahriman’s influence! Can you even imagine! Aasgakadgjlkjklj. He tries to do what he believes is right even at the cost of those things most precious to him, his beliefs and ideals and the sacred memory of the person who raised him. ONE conversation prompts him to question everything. While Ahriman still has possession of him. I cannot even begin to comprehend being that brave. And this is just one small example.

I have seen many negative, unfair evaluations of the fairy dust scene. It is deeply tragic to me that such an important, eloquent, beautiful symbol could be so widely misunderstood. I have tried to explain it before. Allow me to indulge myself once again. 

Fairy dust always reveals the truth. This effect is well established, not just in Rhen’s Quest but even in Ahriman’s Prophecy. It heals physical wounds (aka HP) and reveals the truth, and that’s all. There is never any indication that it can change hearts or magically “goodify” anyone or anything. It is not a deus ex machina. It was included specifically to exclude the possibility of that interpretation. It only reveals the truth, and if Dameon had already been aware of the truth, or if he truly honestly wanted the same things Ahriman wanted, it would have changed exactly nothing.  That’s why Rhen’s choice to use it is so significant. It shows that she trusts him, as he is. She knows that he has a good heart and will do what is right when he knows what that is; she has been saying so for the whole game. In the final battle she gets the chance to prove she believes that.

And she does. 

And she’s right. 

When the truth is revealed to Dameon, he follows it, at the cost of his chance for justice, at the cost of living forever, safely, with the one person who has ever shown him any significant amount of affection, at the cost of everything he ever dared to want in his short, lonely, miserable life. While still under Ahriman’s demonic influence! Ahriman is still in his head! And he chooses to resist even though it means he will lose everything. 

Now, this whole plot could have worked without the fairy dust. Previous cutscenes in the game have already proven that Dameon listens to Rhen. The screenshots I included are just a few examples of this; trust me, I could go on for a while. Dameon believes her and believes in her and trusts her, where he doesn’t trust himself. Amanda could have had Rhen just tell him what to do. Rhen could have had another conversation, told Dameon to switch back, and that would be that. It would be consistent and believable with what had happened in the game thus far.

Except then Dameon still wouldn’t trust himself, or like himself. He would still be lonely and self-loathing and miserable, or even if he wasn’t, there would be plenty of room for that interpretation. 

But instead Rhen gives him a choice. Instead Amanda makes it clear that his redemption is not Rhen’s responsibility, or her decision, or her doing at all. All Rhen does is throw the fairy dust, and then lets Dameon realize what is right, and choose for himself what action he will take. She gives him the opportunity to trust himself, to believe in himself, for perhaps the first time in his life. She makes it clear that she believes in him. She gives him the support he’s been starving for his entire existence, and then she steps back, and let’s him choose.

This part is so significant for her arc, too. I have ranted about it elsewhere but allow me to sum up: Rhen has spent the game feeling like she doesn’t have a choice, and questioning her own judgement and her own significance. Dameon is the first to give her a choice, one which she seriously considers. She realizes she’s always had a choice. And she finally acts on her own judgement, without prompting from anyone else (in fact, without prompting even from the player, because as you might recall the choice the player is offered has always been “fight Dameon,” and yet Rhen never lifts a finger against him). She trusts her own heart and invites Dameon to trust his. She has always been a hero but this is the moment she really steps fully into the role. She saves herself. And then she gives Dameon the choice to do the same. 

And they fight Ahriman, at staggering personal costs. Dameon fights while, again, still under Ahriman’s influence. He has to fight Ahriman physically and mentally, or spiritually, or all of them, most likely. He is not free until Rhen plunges the Sword of Shadows through Ahriman’s heart.

This part. I cry every time and I am crying thinking about it. Dameon has been a prisoner for likely as long as he can remember. His father supported Ahriman. He likely let that influence into the sun shrine. He let it affect Dameon. Dameon has likely never known a life without that darkness. Or if he did, he was too young to remember it. And now, finally, he is free. There is light for the first time. And because Rhen gave him a choice, he has the confidence and experience to stay free, to make himself and be proud of himself and not be just what he thought his parents wanted. 

His gratitude to Rhen is profound. He has always been respectful and supportive of her, he has always listened to her and trusted her, as demonstrated during their first conversation when she meets him in Aveyond, and their conversations in the manor in Sedona, and every other tiny interaction they have. He looks up to her immensely.

And I think that is part of why he is so resolute about continuing in his role as the Druid of Light. Rhen has spent the game shouldering responsibilities that no one else could or would. Being the Guardian of the Sun is his responsibility, and he is determined to follow her example. 

It is also the only thing he has ever known.

In the midst of his own uncertainty, still reeling from his own losses, resigned to a lonely eternity in his childhood prison, he still offers Rhen his support and devotion. This is before she ever makes her choice. He listens to her, sympathizes with her, and encourages her. He loves her, explicitly, out loud in canon dialogue, in literally. Every ending. No matter what she chooses. Nobody ever taught him how to love and yet he does it so scrupulously. 

And in the canon ending, the True Ending as many of us like to call it, he finally, finally gets a chance to grow beyond his family’s legacy. To love someone and be there for her. To be adored by her. To be happy. To make a difference. To live a good life and die of old age and be buried beside his best friend and true love, and to face the shadowy unknowns of the afterlife together.  And he accepts it, in an instant. 

This is redemption not only for himself but for Talia, and Nino. All the Maurvas with their good intentions, who never got to see their happy ending because another call was too strong. Talia gets a second chance to watch her son grow, this time in a kinder world. And she gets a second chance with one of her dearest friends. Nino's legacy of absence and broken trust is finally set right. They all get a second chance to become who they intended to be, before they heard the calls they could not ignore. All because Dameon chose truth and love over every other voice, at every cost. 

It was a very fairy-like thing to do. In overcoming his families' legacy, he steps into their true heritage. Aian Fairies value truth and love most of all. 

There is an inscription on the statue that guards the fairies in AP.  It has always resonated with me and I think it will help describe what I mean here:

Heart of gold thy secret guards

Love, felicity, light

Gaia's precious children

I am moved. I do not know a better way to say it. Dameon Maurva inspires me, and comforts me. His example has made me a better person. He has made me a happier person. I am so grateful to Amanda for being brave enough to tell the story she did, and being brave enough to stick by it. Her story changed my life and I honestly, truly do not believe I would be here without it. Her story saved my life, and I can never praise it enough.

[felsight]

New Muse !

Antauri Gladefall

She’s been one of my fandomless ocs for awhile and recently decided to do a WoW AU for her and I’m absolutely in love with her. I’m not 100% if I’d like to add her yet so for now her status on this blog is pending until I decide to keep her or not.

Her bio is still heavily a wip as I may end up tweaking some stuff later on, though I am trying to keep as close to her main verse as possible.

Under the cut for length. Warning for heavy topics such as abusive relationships, miscarriage, etc.

A soft-spoken and gentle Kaldorei, Antauri has always shown an interest in nature. A surprise from nobody this interest would lead her to following the ways of the druid as well as taking up botany to study the life around her more thoroughly. It’s in the forests that she finds herself most calm and collected, where she is most happiest.

Her family had been of noble descent so as a child her interest in plants, to them, had been nothing more than a childs curiosity. It would fade in time. So they thought. Her family had no lineage in druidism so none understood her calling towards it. Antauri’s father had been a warrior, mother a mage. Both came from generations of the same studies, until Antauri.

She was to be expected to become a mage like her mother but her interest in the ways of arcane were, frankly put, boring. It didn’t hold her attention like druidism did. As she got older, he family noticed this interest of hers refused to fade and began to grow annoyed with her. Antauri had began skipping lessons to be outside among the trees, where she said she belonged. Of course, her family would have none of it and forced her to stay inside, even going so far as to magically seal her in.

When she was of age, her parents had finally decided they could not take their daughters refusal to do anything meaningful with her life. If she wanted to disobey them, so be it. Antauri would be married off to somebody of her father’s choosing and they would keep her in check. Antauri was devastated she had been married off against her will, with no ability to talk some sense into her father. His mind had been made up and so it had been.

In the next few months, Antauri would find herself married to a warrior, same as her father as he had been the son of one of his ranking officers who was also looking for a bride. His name had been Relleth Rainspear, a prodginal and dedicated man who was renowned to have a bad temper and cared for little more than himself. That would include Antauri too. The marriage had simply been to carry on their family names, nothing more, from how he spoke. It was plainly obvious to both neither wanted this marriage but for duty, and for Antauri to prove her worth to her own family, they powered through their grievances with each other.

Strangely, it was around the time she had gotten married that Antauri began having odd dreams. She began dreaming of an emerald dragon that would visit her. In the beginning the two would simply stare at each other, never speaking, The amount of tranquility within the dreams would always help Antauri wake with a calm and refreshed mind. Each night for centuries the Kaldorei dreamed of this strange dragon. It wasn’t until much later the dragon would speak. Her name had been Werythra of the Green Dragonflight, so she said.

Antauri would come to know little about Werythra’s past but the dragoness had a kind soul, much like herself, and the two grew to share a bond. Over time they would dare call the other a close friend. In these dreams with Werythra, Antauri would recount her days activities with Relleth and how stubborn he was, how she dreaded being with him every day, of how nature still called to her but she could never escape. Werythra would always reassure her with advice or comfort, always guiding her forward through her days.

Centuries later, both Relleth and Antauri’s family had began pressuring them for children despite the fact both rarely ever wanted those types of intimate relations with the other. The only time they had done anything of the sort was when they consummated their marriage that night, and only on very rare occasions after that. Because of the pressure from family to continue their legacy, both elves became increasingly agitated as the pressure to have their own family was causing very much unneeded stress.

During a particularly heated argument, Antauri had stormed out of their home. She had been pacing by a lake not far from home when somebody had snuck up on her. Another druidess by the name of Avyena Sagefeather. Avyena had heard the ruckus Antauri was making and grew concerned, to which Antauri recalled the stress at home. Avenya had listened quietly, intently. She had a strong resemblance to Werythra, Antauri would later realize, though it was merely by coincidence.

After that day, Avyena had told Antauri to come here to this spot if she ever needed to seek her out again. She would always be there to listen as she herself had been in a very similar situation. And so Antauri did. Every few days she would come to the lake, talk with Avyena. She found out that Avyena had also been in an arranged marriage, also to a guy who cared little for her and saw her as a trophy. He was insufferable, much like Relleth to Antauri. So Avyena had run away, in the middle of the night, away from her husband and the duty she didn’t want.

The prospect of running away registered in her mind and she desperately wanted to do the same. Avyena offered her own home to Antauri if she really decided to. As much as she wanted to, the dedication to her family despite everything was too much and she simply left it at thinking it over.

More months passed. Antauri would eventually find herself pregnant with Relleth's son. She felt no joy at bearing his child for fear it would end up like him; pompous, controlling, selfish. She couldn't allow that. The night she found out she was with child, she fled to find Avyena. If she were going to have this child, she would do so in a loving environment and Relleth would be anything but.

And so she came to be at Avyena'a home. Eventually, the two would turn to lovers and vowed to raise the child as best they could. Once Antauri was settled, she decided an appearance change was necessary to hide her identity to those who may wander this far and recognize her as the missing Gladefall girl. She dyed her hair a dark brown, let it grow to her waist, and substituted her rich silks for simpler robes.

For a whole they were happy like that and both eagerly awaited the arrival of their son. However, fate was ever cruel to the two women. The son's name would have been Roanoke, suggested by Avyena, should he had lived past the womb. He had been a stillborn. Upon this realization, both took it pretty hard.

It was hard for both to get over the loss of Roanoke. Avyena delved into her plant studies and Antauri had taken to arts and crafts. Most notably she would make small dolls out of vines and other pieces of plants and flowers for her son that never had a chance at life. She's got a collection of them now, even going so far as to hang them from trees around their home.

In the midst of this depression both found themselves in, they once more retreated from their home, this time taking to the vast forests of Val'sharah, with druids of their own kind, to get away from the painful memories that lay in their previous home. It's there they stay now, going back into their routine of botany, helping where they could alongside the druids of the Dreamgrove and their Archdruid, with the nightmare corruption as well.

[kaldoreiyarns]

The Nightsaber, the Hawk, and the Mighty Oak

[Note: This was not written by me, but by my husband HorusRe who plays Myth’s brother, uncle and mother in WoW when needed, so here’s a story of them coming together over conflicting ideas on what to do with Myth with mentions of Iyora and dear Ourrin.]

It had been a long time since Milyurae had been to the Darkshore and she had only once before set foot inside the great tree those of her ilk knew as “Staghelm’s last mistake”, but it was high time she had made the journey from her isolated home in Feralas. It had been too long, by her count at any rate, since her youngest child had left home for adventure and experience in distant parts of Kalimdor.

Elune curse all Panderans and thrice damn the female that had served as principle lure away from the relative safety of their jungle sanctuary, for it required her to follow suit and also leave the comfort of that tree home and the protection afforded by proximity to the veteran experience of General Feathermoon.

She was not impressed by Darnassus, for in her eyes the whole affair of Teldrassil was a mistake of no small error, so she walked through its stone and wood buildings with hardly a sideways glance. She was a soldier on a mission, a personal mission, so she made the beeline from the portal leading from the village of Rut’theran into the druidic region of the city in the clouds. She suspected she would not catch her youngest unannounced, she was a practical female after all, but she knew her oldest trained with Jartsam Skybright. Though she had little knowledge or experience with Jartsam she still had no desire to improve upon that situation, as he was the brother of the elf that broke her heart and left her pregnant with Mythlleass, but if that was where her elder child resided and trained that is where she would go first. Lhor’jonei might know where she can find her wayward youngest.

She was in luck. As she approached the semicircular crescent of tree buildings she saw her eldest child tending to a large equine beast, one of the horses brought by the refugees from Gilneas no doubt. She had to wonder why the humans had not yet returned to their own lands and their own home. The beast spotted her approach before her son, but Lhor was an amazingly perceptive druid and had a keen instinct for the behaviors of animals, so he knew someone was approaching the moment the horse did. He cast an eye aside and then returned to his work as Milyurea approached calmly. Her footsteps near to soundless, such is the innate grace of their agile kind.

“Bright greetings, mother,” Lhor said softly, in the rolling melody of the Darnassian tongue, in a calm voice to let the animal know that the unknown female striding to them was not a threat. A comforting hand on the animals withers.

“Bright greetings, son,” the female replied with a tender smile and a merry tone. She stopped well short of the pair as though horses were not especially well known to her people she still had a respect and sense for animals. One does not survive Feralas and not hone such animal skills.

Lhor finished with what he was doing and muttered something gentle to the animal in the human common tongue, which made Milyurae curl her lip and wrinkle her tongue at the coarse nature of the indelicate language, and then he handed the animal off to a human male standing not far away and wiped his dirty hands off on his trousers as he stepped toward his mother.

The pair embraced, as a parent and an adult child are wont to, and then Lhor put his calloused hand in the small of her back and lead her gently to a lean-to like structure where many of the tools of the animal trade were to be found.

“What brings you to Darnassus?” he asked gently though his expression told her the question was entirely rhetorical.

“My children,” she replied with a smirk at him. It wasn’t entirely untrue after all, but it was a defensive tactic to deflect his subtle probing.

“Oh? The both of us?”

She sat down in silence for the moment as Lhor washed and then dipped a ladle into a large tub of fresh water and doled out two tin cups of water for the two of them.

“Yes,” she replied as she gratefully accepted the drink. “Is Mythlleass around?”

Lhor chuckled and took a seat on the hard packed dirt floor beside his mother.

“Well, I am curious as to why you think he would still be in Darnassus? The last letter I wrote you that mentioned him was months ago.”

“Myth still writes me,” she countered with a wry grin back at her son.

Lhor nodded and chuckled again. “So he tells me, but he also has mentioned that he has not written you in some time as well. Which means you came based on assumption or other information.”

“So, he is around?”

Lhor nodded with a noncommittal smile.

“He is around the city, probably, but I am not his keeper. He goes where he likes.”

Her eyes narrowed and she gleaned more from the statement than perhaps Lhor intended.

“So, the Pandaren is no longer pulling on his leash?”

Lhor sighed softly and took a drink of his water.

“No mother, she does not,” he replied in a slightly flat tone. “She has not been present as his trainer in some time, and she never did control him to my knowledge. The tightest reigns Mythlleass labored under were placed there by another.”

“Oh?” Milyurae asked, concerned and bristling a bit at the concept that some other person had come along to brow beat her beloved youngest offspring.

Lhor’jonei nodded softly and looked to his mother with a sharp expression. “Yes, mother.”

She nodded to him to continue and caused him to sigh heavily as he looked at her with a mix of bewilderment and frustration to his countenance.

“You.”

She balked visibly and backed up slightly, almost as if she had been struck, but she retained her seat and stared at her son waiting for clarification on the statement.

“Mother, I love you dearly, you were the Moon in my eyes until I could feel Elune’s grace for myself in temple… but you have stifled my brother under your affections, you have stymied his growth in an effort to protect him, and you have shackled him to you no matter the distance that he places between the two of you.”

Milyurae sat there without issuing a word as she was too stunned to speak. Lhor saw that she was hurt by his words, and he did sympathize with her, but he had held his tongue for too long on the subject and her presence in Darnassus, uninvited, was an insult to his sense of duty. It stoked the defensive fires he felt for a younger sibling that he had helped raise.

“How… dare you,” she started with a swiftly building fury flickering in her breast, before Lhor slammed a lid down on it as he interrupted her.

“I dare a great deal mother,” he said sternly, as if he was the parent and she was the child. “I have walked the Emerald Dream. I am a fully recognized member of the Cenarion Circle and a druid in good standing for the last century. I have less than a percent of your age and experience and yet I seem to see this situation far clearer than you. You are blinded by the sins of Myth’s father, hurt by memories and ghosts, and you fail to see what your sense of motherly devotion has done to my brother. You have not been a Sentinel in over three hundred years, so do not think to impune me with a station you set aside voluntarily. In this situation, Miluyrae Shadesword, you will listen and I, as a druid and member of the Cenarion Circle, shall speak.”

Again she was stunned. She always knew her eldest child was made of a stern material. Before most of his age were expected to consider adulthood he was thrust into adult roles. When Ourrin vanished on her, leaving her pregnant and still an active duty Huntress in the Sentinel Army, she found herself alone for the second time in her life. Lhor’s father, the love of her life, had been dead for a century and she had raised Lhor’jonei mostly alone through that turbulent time. He was old enough to know his father was gone and for months he cried and tried to understand the loss. At that young age there was an aspect of blaming himself for his daddy “going away”, but he became amazingly self reliant and responsible in a very short period of time. Then along came Myth and he had to mature again before his time. He became the surrogate father in their little trinity, Milyurae always delighted in how strong Lhor became and how early… at least until this moment. His strength had trumped her and she knew, despite her annoyance to the truth, that he was right in many ways.

“You let me go when I was two centuries younger than Mythlleass to become a druid,” he continued with a firm tone but less unquestionable authority. “You released me into the care of druids long before was the norm however you kept Mythlleass under your thumb for far longer than is the norm for any other. Even when all he wished was to train as a cook at Feathermoon Stronghold you denied him the freedom to be. You could not even entrust him into the care of Sentinel Sisters and their support staff. You protected him from himself.”

“Because Mythlleas doesn’t know what he wants,” she said with a furrowed brow but a light tone.

“No mother, he didn’t not know what he wanted,” he admitted with a soft nod but a continuation of the firm tone. “Because you never let him decide anything for himself. You were training him to become like you, a warrior, a hunter, but you never wanted him to leave your side. What were you training him for?”

She heaved a frustrated sigh and snarled at the ground. “I was preparing him to face a world that is violent and dangerous.”

“I don’t think so. I think you were training him to be reliant upon you. A perpetual student,” he noted this and spoke it for the first time ever. He had thought these things over the ages but he never gave them voice. Now seemed as good a time as any, with the source of the speculation present to receive the conjecture. “Because you lost my father, you were abandoned by Myth’s father, and you were determined to make sure that the last male you wanted in your life to not make a repeat of the process.”

“I haven’t lost you…” she started but again Lhor cut her off before she got to far.

“And you never shall, but you clearly already knew that, otherwise you would not have let me go off to be trained by the druids of the Circle. This is not about me. You never saw an inkling of abandonment in me, you knew and you know I am not that way. But when you look at Mythlleass…”

He paused and followed her gaze into the worn ground.

“I think you see what you want him to be and not what he is. You don’t want him to leave your side, you want him to take the form you wish to give him, but he is not clay to be molded. You shaped us both mother, you made us who we are, but there comes a point when you have to let go.”

She stayed quite, jaw clenched, as he looked back to her to seek some opening to try and get through her resolution.

“As I see it you are holding on to him because you have nothing left. You have not known another male, or female, since Myth was born. I have my life and you blessed me with my freedom to find my own way. I think you feel that if you let go of Mythlleass you shall have nothing left, and then…”

“What shall be left for me?” she finished his statement and gave him pause.

She looked at him and kept his gaze captivated with her own steely, narrowed stare.

“So what shall be left for me, Cenarion Druid Bloodleaf? Do you have an answer to that question?”

He blanched and she pressed the attack.

“No? No wisdom from the Circle? No nuggets of sage advice from on high? Tell me what I should do with my life after devoting the last four hundred years to rearing my children? What do you suggest for me oh wise one?”

Lhor sighed and took a sip from his water and weathered her burning gaze.

“That isn’t for me to tell you, mother,” he replied gently, his staunch tone replaced by one of basic understanding and succor to the power of her resolve. “Your path is your own to walk, and by your demeanor I can see that suggesting actions would just be met with more of the same kind of animosity. What is clear to me is that you do not seem to think of Mythlleass when considering such things. He also has his path to walk… and you are not allowing him to do so. You have become so wrapped up in him that you have forgotten about what is best for him.”

“What is best,” she growled. “Is for him to forget this foolish obsession with adventure and come home to Feralas. He will get killed out there. He doesn’t know what the world is really like!”

Lhor weathered the outburst and nodded gently.

“No, he really doesn’t, but that is not important. He must learn for himself, as you did, as I have, and you must be willing to let him do so. If you try and protect him from life he will only become resentful and will be less prepared for the reality of taking responsibility for his own actions. If you try and be his shield maiden all of his life he will certainly die the first time he has to brave the darkness alone. More importantly, if you rattle the chains you have wrapped him in he will balk and rend those chains and run headlong over the cliff into oblivion.”

That gave her pause and doused the fires of her anger to some degree.

“Mother, you do not see it, but your dominion over him is still clearly seen, even here in this far off city and even now. Master Skybright mentions it to me often. Myth is holding himself back because he still hears some of your voice in his ears. He will not leap forward into his chosen path because he has a need to fill the gap you left in his life and he doesn’t know how to do such a thing. He cannot leave you behind and find his own path because, for so long, the only path he could walk was the one you lay out before him. He has run away from home but your shadow follows him like a nightmare.”

She darkened further as she considered these words but she said nothing.

“Mother, you and I both know that darkness looms on the horizon for our world. The Burning Legion has returned to Azeroth and we of the Circle can tell you with no uncertainty that darker forces are building their powers even now. Myth and I have been born into a world that could easily be as dynamic and deadly as the War of the Ancients. If you try and protect him, if you do not allow him to find the resolve to defend himself, to find strength in no other than himself, he will not survive.”

Lhor then lowered his head and let his thoughts glide to darker places.

“Worse, he may become a pawn of those dark powers. Too many elves have been lost to dark forces within the past fifty years… Myth’s half-sister Sharina included. There are demon hunters cropping up with frightening commonality, or at least they bear the aspect of that hopelessly lost group. I know of two that became corrupted with the fel by design of others.”

He returned his gaze to his mother and found her peering back with horror and surprise flashing in her eyes.

“Yes, they were made to be hosts of demon seeds. They never chose the path of the Illidari, they were drug into the fiery depths and burned with fel fire, changed into monsters that can only exist to lead this world into damnation. Horrible fates, as they strive to deny what they are, which shall make their inevitable fall all the more pitiable.”

He sighed again and looked out to Darnassus, sprawling before them like a masterpiece of Kaldorei order against the somber night sky.

“There are too many such beings that match those lost spirits. Ourrin is one of them. We have death knights and demon hunters and those that have been possessed by demons. We have creatures that seek to restore the Old Ones to power. We have the Betrayer himself restored and leading beings that make our lost immortality seem as amusing as a human lifespan is to us. We are standing at the horizon of dark times and the best any of us can hope for, at this point, is to enjoy what pleasures Azeroth still offers before darkness sweeps over us and bale fires fall from the heavens.”

They both looked up into the clear black sea above them, watched the twinkle of distant stars and breathed deeply of the natural scents afforded them by the design of the elven city.

“You and I shall fight that battle, I have no doubt, and perhaps we shall live. Perhaps we shall not. Regardless we shall do what needs to be done…”

As one they turned to peer at the other. Somber and dark thoughts exchanged silently as he nodded to her and she tipped her head in quiet reply.

“I ask you to allow Myth to find what joy he may before he has to make that sacrifice as well. We have lived longer. We have walked our path.”

With that Lhor set down his tin of water and slid himself closer to his mother, taking the hands she used to hold her cup inside of his own.

“Let Myth walk his.”

She looked down at the hands of her eldest son cupping hers, looked into the waters that swirled in the tin within her hands and how the lights from the stars danced in the softly disrupted surface, and then back to his golden eyes. Eyes that were blessed, as others had been in times long past, and were sage beyond their youthful years. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t want it to end,” she admitted finally.

Lhor understood the unspoken gravity of the statement. She knew all too well that letting go of Myth would spell the end of that stage of her life. She was no longer a Sentinel, despite her good standing with the Army, and she was very much a soldier lost in time. Her ways were no longer the ways of all her kind, the Kaldorei were no longer alone in the world as humans became more and more the drivers of destiny. She did not feel a belonging to anyone anymore, with the sole exception being her role as mother, and the thought of letting that slip away was as frightening a concept as facing the entire Burning Legion or standing against the magnitude of an Old One. Sadly, an answer to this wasn’t forthcoming, as he hardly could speak with certainty about such things. He had not lived long enough himself to really conceive how such things felt.

“Neither did I,” came a voice that was low, masculine, and melodic. Mother and son both looked around for a moment as neither had heard the approach of another, though Lhor knew the voice and how softly could fall the steps of the elder druid known as Jartsam Skybright.

He was not far from them, leaning against the tree that supported one side of the lean to, almost invisible in the shadows until someone looked for him. The presence immediately put Milyurae on edge and on the defensive while it made Lhor chuckle and relax.

“When Iyora, that’s my daughter,” Jartsam continued as he smiled and mused softly, almost as if he had been a part of the conversation all along. “When she told me she was leaving the temple to join the Sentinels I felt the bitter pang of realization. She was still mine as long as she was a priestess, I was still her father and she was still my little girl.”

He said the last words with a smile that beamed with his pride and his love of his only child.

“She was close and she was in little danger as long as she remained in temple. But,” he continued with a smile and a soft shrug of his broad shoulders. “She knew she could not help our people, our world, if she did not face her enemies and learn how to stand alongside her Sisters and fight for what she believes in.”

Milyurae just stared at the male, cool warning in her eyes, but Jartsam did not engage the glare though he did look to the female whom his brother had wronged and smiled to her.

“I did not want to let her go,” he admitted with a gentle candor. “I would have given anything to have been able to change her mind, but every child has to become an adult one day, and that was her time and her choice, and so a Sentinel she became.”

Jartsam took a few steps forward, out of the deeper shadows, and hunkered down closer to the pair. His whole demeanor one of openness and camaraderie. Milyurae watched his carefully, eyes narrowed, but did not shift to move away from him.

“Iyora is a Lieutenant now,” he crowed as his grin practically lit up the darkness. “She has seen action in the Broken Isles, she has faced Naga and demons and Goddess knows what else, and I am relieved that she has not yet given her light to the ages, but that she faces these threats in company of such noble Kaldorei does my heart good.”

“Myth isn’t becoming a Sentinel,” Milyurae said flatly, still not wooed by the males friendly nature. “He hasn’t joined such a noble company.”

Jartsam’s brow canted upward and he grinned.

“No? Well, perhaps that shall change in due time. He is here in Darnassus. He has Iyora as a regular example. He is surrounded by some of the most dedicated and moral of examples I have ever known, right at his fingertips. If he hasn’t chosen a path as of yet perhaps that is just a matter of patience? I know the Sentinels have been taking males for some time, and I hear tell that with current situations being as they are Tyrande and Shandris are considering opening recruitment to both sexes as a matter of commonality.”

He chuckled, a deep and infectious sound that did not visually affect Milyurae but she had to admit to herself she was starting to warm up to the male. His charm was different from that of his brother, Ourrin, in that it was not laced throughout with a somewhat clear agenda to get her naked.

“I even hear tell that my niece, Huntress Shiri Nyghtwhisper, may be recruiting soon,” he said with a wink at her. “I do think you would like Huntress Nyghtwhisper. She wouldn’t be your eyes on Myth but you could rest assured that he would be in capable hands.”

Milyurea paused for a moment and postulated on that. She knew Huntress Nyghtwhisper, at least since she had been assigned to serve under General Feathermoon.

“Huntress Nyghtwhisper lost over half her company in the Broken Isles,” she stated flatly but with a gentle perk of her own purple brow. Curious as to how the charming elder male would try and confront that retort.

Lhor, whom had fallen silent and was enjoying the display of elder wisdom, simply followed suit and arched his own brow, as he too was curious as to how his master would approach that unquestionable fact.

Jartsam’s smile didn’t fade but his expression did soften in respect to the dead.

“No, she did not lose anyone. Over half her company lost their lives, but she brought back every last one of her soldiers for proper burial services. She left no member of her company behind. I heard from her second that she went into combat three times, with only her honor guard of two, to make certain that the demons they faced would not desecrate the bodies of the fallen. I would entrust her with the life of my own daughter, for Shiri has the courage of the Goddess and the skill of a Sentinel. Very very capable hands.”

The former Sentinel nodded softly. She also had heard of the terrible loss taken by that Moonclaw company. She had been present when officers she was friends with spoke of the courage it took for a company of 150 to stand and face down a horde of demonic destruction 5000 strong. It was a vital position that the Sentinels had to keep lest the rest of the force in Suramar were to be outflanked and overrun. It had to be Sentinels as well, as no others could be entrusted to make a stand to the bitter end and make certain that if the last of the company fell they would make the action so costly to the enemy that victory to the Legion would be hollow indeed. They held the pass though their losses were staggering, and for her unflinching devotion to her duty and unquestionable bravery in action Shiri had been awarded a commendation for valor.

“I know of Huntress Nyghtwhisper,” she replied evenly, her voice losing the defensive ring it had been carrying. “She is a model Sentinel and, you are correct, I do like her, but I do not think Myth desires a place in the Sentinels.”

Jartsam smiled and tipped his head to give her a wry smirk while he stroked his long white mustache.

“Have you ever asked?”

She was about to answer when the stark reality struck her like an orcs mace. For a few moments her eyes searched the air, her brows knit in annoyance, and her face pointing here and there as she frantically searched her thoughts.

“I… no… I don’t think I ever have.”

Lhor would have applauded his master but he knew that would be wholly disrespectful and only undo everything the elder had accomplished.

“Well then…”

Jartsam left it at that and stood up, stretching his longer than typical arms up and over his head. A few pops could be faintly heard as the male flexed his powerful limbs and shifted myriad muscles around on his back and neck.

“I have to be off,” he stated gently as he looked to Lhor. “I have to meet with Nessa Shadowsong down in Rut’theran about her crab companion. It would seem her strand crab has a bacterial infection from eating one too many clams from the tidal basins around Rut’theran.”

He shrugged, strode over without another word to dip the ladle into the water basin, take a long drink, and then lower it back before striding off without another word. Just a merry tune whistled as he moved off toward his next animal endeavor. Mother and son watched him go.

“I cannot understand how he manages to sneak up on me like that,” Lhor said softly as he marveled after the master druid that was teaching him the trade of animal keeping.

“Eleven-thousand years of practice,” Milyurae answered gently and even she was smiling a bit at the retreating figure. “Nothing like his brother, that’s for sure.”

Lhor looked to his mother and searched her face for a moment, her eyes still lingering on where Jartsam had been, before she returned his gaze. They sat in silence for a long moment just peering upon the other. Mother and child.

“Why don’t you ask to be reinstated?” Lhor finally asked to break the silence of their thoughts.

The violet haired elf shook her head softly.

“No... not yet. I am not ready for that again. Not just yet anyway.”

They both nodded, mostly to themselves, and a silence fell across them again for a long moment. Milyurae broke it with a sigh and words spoken gently.

“I still do not want to let him go Lhor.”

Her son nodded and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder as she continued.

“I appreciate what Jartsam said but… it’s not so easy for me.”

“I know, mother.”

There was little more for him to say. His mother had come to a crossroads in her life and he could do no more to try and point her down the path of least pain and resistance. She would look at the choices and take the path she felt was best for her. Come what may the decision was hers to make and she would go where her destiny lay. Lhor could only hope that her path did not lead further to a place where she pressed her will down like a weight upon his brother.

He was free to grow as the mighty oak, spread his branches out into the sky and offer others his shade and his protection.

She was free to roar from her den and rend flesh and crunch bone between her teeth, the nightsaber matriarch that would not leave her territory and would guard it fiercely.

His brother would also be free. He was the fledgling hawk with wings that were only just strong enough to take flight. He had soared the sky above Lhor’s leaves but not so far from the den of the nightsaber where he was reared. Yet those wings were now ready to carry him to the far reaches of destiny and nothing would hold him back.

Milyurae sat there and pondered similar thoughts as she rose and gave her eldest a motherly squeeze of his shoulder before moving off. They had no more to speak of and too much indeed to consider.

As he had watched Jartsam depart he watched her, for a few moments at any rate, and then he sighed and returned to his work. Whatever happened now was out of his control and he had duties to attend to.