Ashenrock’s TFoL Thread

I didn't realize how many posts I've branched off into. I'll keep all TFoL related story-lines (not related to his mother's discovery) in here from now on. I'll repost the other stories here first to condense them.

Preparations
"This is something I must do for myself, brothers."
Ashenrock looked up at his two brothers solemnly. Determination written across his face. Demonaro had never seen his brother so committed to a cause that didn't involve healing the wild.
"I could help, Rock. Surely people will need to be healed."
Demonaro knew it was an offer made in vain, but one he needed to make nonetheless. Ashenrock rose to his feet, placed his right hand on his brother's shoulder, and looked him dead in the eye.
"This guild has put their faith in us. You and Jin'tal are not yet strong enough. The Grin has been driven from it's solace and been forced to take up refuge elsewhere. They are being hunted by Alliance extremists. I do not know the whole story, but what I do know is that it's time to stop running. The time has come for me to make a stand, a stand with people who are more than worthy of our loyalty. They have trusted me and promoted me within their ranks. Its time to join this cause so that we may put a stop to this ridiculous war once and for all."

Demonaro turned away from his brother and clenched his fists, his emotion and anger were apparent. "This guild, while honorable, still lusts for violence. They fight not to end this war, but for their own amusement and self glory. This is not the way are parents would have us go. Our mother, in particular, would be disappointed." Ashenrock sighed heavily, understanding now that his brother was confused and angry.
"They fight for their very survival! I think you've misjudged them, brother. I believe that they are just in their cause. Do you really think that I would follow them into the corrupted lands if I did not." Demonaro hadn't thought of that. He knew that Ashenrock hated Outland more than anything...he had even sworn not t return there at one point. It was upon this realization that Demonaro realized for the first time who his brother was really trying to protect.

"You wish to help these people, no matter your own beliefs? You wish to follow them blindly into the wastes and be damned the consequences? Jin'tal...you have been silent. Tell him that this is madness!"
Jin'tal grinned widely and chuckled "I be hona' bound ta de two o' ya. Ya be de reason dat I be here taday. If da big cow wantin' ta be part o' a greater cause...den I follow `im witout question. I be t'inkin' dat ya be a little too paranoid me old friend." Ashenrock donned his shoulder armor and grabbed his helmet. "I need to go into the Gulch if I am to prepare for this. I am done with Alterac Valley...there is othing more I can do there now. I hope that you will come to peace with this. You are not only my brother, but my most trusted friend. I will not be able to do this without your support."

With that Rock turned and headed out the doorway. Demonaro stared at him as he left and whispered under his breath "You will always have my support brother, and I know you will will protect her to the death."

Outland has Landed
Ashenrock stood and shivered at the site of the barren waste know as Outland. The portal behind him was eerily silent as streams of soldiers passed by him. He wondered what the others were doing here. What was their purpose? He, who had once sworn never to return to this place, was now in fact back to fight for his new friends.

The only advantage to his return was that he was no longer bound to the ground beneath him. He quickly shifted into his flight form, pushed the air from beneath his wings, and took to the skies above. Suddenly his disgust and anger were gone and the exhilaration of flight once again sent his sensations into a tingle. It wasn't until he reached Thrallmar that he regained his focus on the task at hand.

The flight to Falcon Watch, while brief, was full of thought. He still wasn't sure exactly why he was about to continue this fight. He just knew in his heart that it felt right. The Blacktooth Grin had accepted him as their own and his loyalty to the friends that he'd made was as strong as that to his own flesh and blood. The adrenelaine started to pump through his feral heart and he could feel the warm rush of blood fill his head. Upon landing at Falcon Watch he quickly assumed his Ursine form, stretched his head to the sky, and released a roar that echoed accross the barren land. His focus was strong, his determination was stronger, and he was now ready to help this band of Horde ally together to bring down a common foe.

The march to the Hold had begun.

Skewed Reflections
The bodies seemed to float in an ocean of blood. Ashenrock stood motionless in front of the gates that led into Thrallmar. The attack on Honor Hold had not yielded the results that they had wished for. Many lay dead or dying and the healers were doing all they could to repair the damage done. The horde was vastly outnumbered and had been pushed to the brink of defeat. If it weren’t for the sheer will of the individuals involved, all might have been lost. This area would need extensive cleansing in order to put the land to rest here.

That brought a dark, sad, chuckle to his throat.

These lands were lost to begin with. Cleansing them further would be like polishing the dirt from a clump of kodo dung. Rock wished Demonaro were with him at that moment. He would be a comforting force and a great help in the task that laid ahead.

He closed his eyes, knelt down, removed his helmet, and began to breathe deeply. He entered a mild meditative state, reflecting on the battle that had just ensued. Vivid recollections sprang to life in his mind’s eye.

----------
Ashenrock could not charge enemies quickly enough. By the time one of his allies had been freed from harm’s way, another two were close to their end. He roared out in vain, trying to fend off his assailants.

Suddenly he realized that he was a main target of their attacks. He felt the searing pain of swords, knives, axes, arrows, fire, ice, and every other instrument of terror tearing through his tough, ursine hide. He scrambled to retreat to the safety of the healers but as he inched closer to his solace, it seemed to drag farther away. He understood that his mind was telling him that he would not make it.

He looked into the sea of war and found a fellow Druid who was in desperate need of help. He set his sights on one of the assailants and made a mad charge at what he thought was a human rogue. When he reached the assassin he let loose with a terrible roar and swiped madly at the mob of Alliance in his way, throwing several of them aside. This freed his ally from her agony. “RUN DAMN YOU!” Rock bellowed as he turned to face the source of his torture. He was relieved to see out of the corner of his eye that his comrade had wasted no time in following his command, quickly assuming her cat from and retreating to the rear.

It was time for his last stand. It was becoming almost impossible to breathe anymore. He assumed his Tauren mold while consuming a healthstone, he then jumped high into the air and slammed into the ground, stunning anyone in a six foot radius. This bought him a sliver of opportunity to turn the tide on his attackers. He assumed his ursine form and once again bellowed a roar that made his enemy cower, if only for a moment. He the bashed the nearest warrior and then mangled a mage into the depths of oblivion.

As he turned to face the warrior again, he felt blackness closing in on him. He could no longer concentrate on his foes. A sharp pain raced up his spine and he realized that this was the end. With the last of his energy he roared into the air one last time and dropped like a deflated balloon to the ground bellow.

Gentle calmness washed over his body like a satin blanket during a chill winter’s eve. He now felt nothing but bliss. He waited for the gentle embrace of death to find him but was surprised to hear an angelic voice whisper in his ear “It is not your time, my son.” Ashenrock fell asleep muttering “Mother is that you?”.
----------
Rock slowly opened his eyes as he pulled himself out of his meditation. He REALLY wished his brother was with him right now. Questions needed to be answered.

Ashenrock stood on the ridge overlooking the road that led west of Honor Hold. He would fall behind them in order to cleanse the land that he could safely traverse, and send to rest the spirits of the bodies left behind. He could hear echoes of cheers coming from his allies below. Their war cries evidently upbeat. Rock did not celebrate violence, win or lose. He did, however, smile to himself. This had been well planned and well fought. He had fought hard for his friends and he was beginning to understand his place in the war he so hated to become part of.

They had come so very close to defeating Trollbane. Ashenrock, himself, still had pieces of the leader's flesh and blood ripe on his hands and claws. He could still smell the fear of the occupants of Stormgarde fresh in his nostrils. The Alliance would take them seriously now. Perhaps seriously enough to mount a counter-maneuver.

As he took to the air, he quickly surveyed the carnage below. There had been many more casualties than he had anticipated and the crimson reflection off of the land below only highlighted the magnitude of the forces each side brought to the table. He landed close to a fellow Tauren's body and quickly committed it back to the earth.

Suddenly a Night Elf Druid appeared from behind the cloak of shadow. The Elf looked up at Ashenrock confidently. nodded, and then turned his attention to one of his own fallen comrades. The time for violence had ended this day. They would let each other finish the task at hand. Ashenrock couldn't help but wonder if he'd meet this Druid in battle during the next incursion.

He finished his work and headed back to Falcon Watch, knowing that many more battles lie ahead.

The fact that Ashenrock still stood upright was more a testament to the healing corps then his own strength and will. He could feel the warming graces of Esere, Yalim, and Zurven coursing through his being at an almost constant pace. The soothing relief was heavily appreciated amidst the constant battering of Alliance assault against his hide. He didn't know if his body would be able to withstand the trauma of having every poison, curse, and negative enchantment imaginable slapped against his being.

"Dammit, I need to talk to some armor experts" he cursed to himself. He was outgeared by many of his foes, but that didn't stop him from charging the different defenders. One by one they fell. A paladin here, a rogue there, the occasional hunter pet would drop dead in his path. Outgeared, outnumbered, but not yet outclassed.

For someone that came to the Blacktooth Grin hating violence and war...he was kind of ashamed at this point. He was enjoying this. Ashenrock realized that his transformation from a philosophical healer to a feral warrior was almost complete. He breathed in the scent of war deeply and was renewed. He was relieved at least that he had not lost his sense of honor. "I will fight until the last of our forces is clear of this mess". He shouted to his unit for them to fall back to Stonebreaker. They had not breached the defense but their statement was clear. The Grin and their allies were here for business.

Rock sat in the rudimentary hut overlooking the Cross Roads in the Barrens. As he sipped his tea he listened intently on his mentor's words to him. Nara Wildmane had been his Druid instructor for decades. She always knew Ashenrock better than he knew himself and that was why he had come back to her today.

"My friend, you shouldn't question yourself so much. You feel guilty because you think that you've abandoned your principles, but in reality, they're stronger now than ever."

Nara looked on her pupil with awe and pride. What an epic transformation. When Rock had come to her as a child, he was meek, untamed, and scared. Now the man she saw before him was a pillar of strength, pride, and discipline. She was pleased that she had a hand in molding him. Her expression quickly turned to dismay, though. Ashenrock was confused and truly uncertain about his future. He also looked terribly alone.

"What is troubling you, really, Ashenrock. You have always been so secretive with your feelings. I cannot help you if you don't open up to me. I am not your brother or that troll you befriended. I am your teacher and mentor. I will not judge you, I know you too well."

Ashenrock fought back the urge to lash out with an angry retort. Anger was always his shield. Instead he took a deep breathe and collected his thoughts. He then looked up at his old teacher...she was right. "Nara, I'm afraid that my feral path has led me to a dark place. I no longer have any urge to heal...only to destroy. During the last battle I was not hesitant. I struck out fiercely and angrily at the opposition. I fear that I may be losing myself to violence. It was almost as if I was watching myself from the outside...I didn't know who it was on that battlefield." Ashenrock bowed his head in shame. Nara sat down, smiled, and took his hands in hers. "You foolish Tauren. You aren't lost. For the first time in your life you've found a place of belonging and people that you would truly fight for. Whether you are healing or whether you are fighting you are doing what you have always done. You are protecting. It's what you've always done, Rock. It's what you were born to do. Whether it's protecting the wild or protecting your friends there is no difference. You need to realize that." Ashenrock looked up at his teacher. "You say that as if you've been there yourself." Nara looked on him with a wistful look. "Stories for another time, my friend."

Ashenrock stood but was still troubled. "Demonaro thinks that I am wrong in what I'm doing. He thinks that the Grin are just a bunch of blood-thirsty savages." Nara laughed. "Demonaro is just mad that his brother has found new friends. I would venture a guess that you haven't spent much time together lately. Perhaps you should think about that." Nara was right. It had been weeks since the two of them had wandered the lands together. She had to be right.

"Rock, there is another thing. You need to trust your new friends. Let them in as well. I can sense your loneliness and it needs to be addressed before you can be completely confident in yourself." Ashenrock stammered on his answer "Plenty of the Grin know me well enough already." Nara laughed "You know very well what I mean. It's always perplexed me how someone so strong can be so shy. I know you, Rock. There's more than one reason that you joined these people. I sense there are one or two that you would like to know more...and vice-versa. It's time for you to trust your feelings." Ashenrock sheepishly nodded at her. He knew she was right. "There is an event this evening in Stonebreaker. If there are festivities, perhaps I'll try and talk to some people." Nara grinned and decided to divulge a little hint "It was good to see you again, my friend. Good luck. Your true purpose is becoming clearer. Soon you'll understand your legacy and what it is you were destined to do. Your mother would be very proud of you." Ashenrock got a chill down his spine "My purpose and legacy?" Nara whispered "Soon...soon."

Fireballs slammed into the stone structure next to him. He dodged one attacker...then another...the Alliance was starting to overwhelm them. "FALL BACK!" came the order from Gorfrunch. Ashenrock cursed under his breath. This was to be his time to prove himself. He took to the sky, searching for the staff. Felora moved into formation with him and gave him a nod. The soldier beneath them had it! They both assumed their Ursine form and landed on the poor soul with a deadening crunch. Ashenrock lifted the staff in his mouth and lumbered away. Khadgar's golems had jumped off of the mushroom to reclaim the lost artifact. They fired deadly blasts of energy toward him, which he gracefully dodged each time. Felora charged one of the golems but was batted away and sent into a nearby mushroom. Ashenrock saw Felora take the hit from the corner of his eye. He felt dread watching her fall seemingly lifeless to the earth. This hesitation...this emotional stall left him paralyzed, not knowing what to do. The answer came in the form of a Pyroblast into underbelly. He roared in pain, dropping the staff. His now exposed and searing innards gave him pain like none he'd ever felt. Yet as the healers came to his side, the last thing he could remember was telling Zurven "Help her!".

(2 Days later)
"You've been quiet for days now, brother." Demonaro cast a concerned look on his brother. Ashenrock seemed to disregard his brother's comment. He sat on the coast of Revantusk Village, starring out at the sea, wondering where it had all changed. One day he was a young tauren, full of hope, healing the lands. The next he was a bitter shell, tearing down everything he could praying that some kind of peace would become of it. Now, just as he had thought that his feelings and compasion had been lost...they had almost cost him his life. Worse...they almost cost the lives of other Grin. If he had focused on his task, he'd have returned the staff to Faquarl and they would have been able to retreat with it. Instead, he was licking his wounds because of his compasion for another.

Rock looked up at his younger sibling with heavy eyes and asked "Have I lost myself, Demo? Have I lost my way?" Demonaro looked into the dark, saddened eyes of his brother. Since they had joined the Grin, he had tried to keep his emotions in check. He didn't particularly like the guild or the people in it. He only joined to stay by his brothers side. He never truly knew why Rock had taken to these people...at least not until now. "You have found your place among people just like you. Rock. People that seem lost as individuals...but together you have found a belonging and purpose." Demonaro sighed deeply. "I have found the history of this clan, Rock. They are unique. They are survivors and they fight tooth and nail for their right to exist here. Most of them clamor for battle and war, but in the end...I think they are searching for peace. Faquarl seems weary. He seems as if he's ready to end this war." Demonaro reached out and took his brother's hand in his. "You aren't lost, Rock. You've never so belonged in one place like this ever. You must return and help them finish this. Stand with them and fight." Ashenrock's face grew solemn. "You will not return with me, Demo?"

"Rock...when I realize my full potential I will rejoin you. For now I will stay here and practice my arts with Jin'tal. Go...you will not be alone. Your destiny lies with them. Your purpose is slowly becoming clearer to me. It will soon be apparent to you."

Ashenrock had been wary about leaving his brothers to fend for themselves in Revantusk, but maybe a seperation was needed. He had relied to heavily on their thoughts and it was time to make his own decisions and judgments. What a difference a week had made.

He felt good, better than he had in years. His memory of the events following his injury had returned to him. The brilliant light that tore through the landscape had healed his wounds instantly. Scars had disappeared, hair had been restored in hot spots along his body, his horns were no longer cracked and chipped, even his eyesight had improved. It was almost a rebirth. He marveled over what had transpired...even the seemingly dead had been restored to their full health on that battlefield.

He would chalk that experience up to luck. Now he was full of energy and ready to take on the world. It seemed that fortune was smiling on him. Just last night he grabbed an opportunity to lend his experience to a group of Grots. Bellmont had been tied up elsewhere, so Rock had decided to lead a small training lecture and small raid on Darkshire. All went pretty well he thought. It had been a very long time since he had lead anyone, but it certainly felt comfortable and reminded him of the battles he had led against the formidable armies of trolls and elves as he helped the Reventusk secure their borders.

He was also pleased that some of his superiors had joined to observe his performance. They had good things to say afterwards. Demonaro and Naraa had been right. His purpose was slowly becoming clearer, and his outlook had never been more optimistic.

He decided to meditate on these recent events in among the rich forest of Ashenvale. He didn't know why he wanted to go there...but something in his mind was pulling him there. He sensed he would find more answers there.

"THEIR DEFENSES ARE BROKEN! LET THE SLAUGHTER BEGIN!" Ashenrock suddenly realized that it was he who was screaming those words. His lust for war had gotten the best of him. As he put his right paw through the face of an Alliance mage he wondered where his turning point was. "Think about it another time!" He screamed in his mind. He refocused on the task at hand. He rushed into a nearby building and helped several comrades envelope a priestess. She had no chance and he would show no mercy. "This isn't you...this isn't how you really are." He couldn't shake his feelings off. He assumed his cat form and quickly chased down a gnome who was trying to flee over the bridge. He batted the little being to the ground and wasted no time tearing him to shreds and then nudging the little corpse off the bridge and into the shallow waters far below. "Is it too late to go back?" Rock assumed his Tauren form, realizing that the battle was won. He surveyed the scene and began to walk towards the center of town.

Ahead he noticed Faquarl and Gorfrunch talking. He couldn't make out the conversation, but as Gorfrunch walked off he could tell that Jo was not pleased. Rock decided to let it go. There were many things that were bothering Faquarl these days and he knew better than to get involved. His recent promotion in the Grin had weighed on him a bit and he felt that he might be trying a bit too hard to impress his superiors and show them that they hadn't made a poor decision. It may be this that had led him to his sudden blood lust here. He would meditate on that later.

For now he would try to make sense of the battle the Grin and it's allies had just won. He turned his attention to making sure he could use his limited healing powers to stitch up the wounded...perhaps that could ease his conscience a bit. Perhaps this victory here would help bring a speedier end to the war, but Ashenrock knew that he was kidding himself. The Grin was built for fighting...and what would the Grin do if there was nothing left to fight? He felt a hand on his shoulder and his gaze met Felora's. "You alright, Rock?" Upon seing the gentle Druid, he suddenly felt a bit of shame for his actions. He managed to muster a lopsided smile "Of course, I'm just a bit drained from battle."

Ashenrock was at peace with himself at last. After a very long session in meditation he had come to realize that he had not lost himself at all. He was simply a Druid of the Claw, now. His healing days were behind him and while there was a fight to be had...he would show no mercy. The fact that he felt sorrow after the fact, was all the proof he needed.

Now that his confidence had returned he had started to see other things more clearly. He now was very sure that something was wrong within the Grin. He didn't know what, but his gut told him that it was bad. He glided above the convey, studying the people below. He saw Faquarl ambling along. The old druid had really taken a beating during this campaign, and while the staff had certainly healed him on the outside...he was definitely not all right on the inside. The he turned his attention to his leader, Gorfrunch. The orc was wearing an odd smile on his face that seemed almost wicked. He must be savoring the last victory.

Ashenrock wished that this war would soon end, and that the Grin could find some peace...if only for a small while. He knew in his heart that Gorfrunch would never stand for that. The Orc that so hated Thrall's ways...ways to find peace. Demonaro had been right since he and his brother had joined the Grin. "This guild is built around war and violence. If the war were over, what would happen to them? They don't want the war to end, my brother. It's as simple as that." Ashenrock could see his brother uttering that very phrase quite clearly in his mind.

Gorfrunch and the other officer's had put their faith in him time-and-time again and his loyalty was always firm. Sadly, the more he rose in the ranks, the easier it to was to see that this clan was built on a terrible fault line...and he was sure that just one big quake could split the Grin.

Rock turned his attention to the wind on his face and breathed in heavily. He was sure that something was about to give.

He turned his head toward Faquarl just in time to see the first arrow hit. He was too far away to do anything about it. The second arrow hit Faquarl, cutting short his cry. It was too late. He watched in vain as the Elf walked off with the staff, leaving the motionless tauren lying in a heap next to the portal. Ashenrock shifted seamlessly from his ursine form to that of the stormcrow, climbing high into the air while gracefully avoiding missiles both magic and not.

From the air he watched as Felora and Yalim descended on the fallen Warlord. "What is his condition?!" He cried as he finally drew closer. He hit the ground in his Tauren shape, wildly scanning the area for more enemies. Rock caught a quick glance from Felora "He's not breathing." She said in almost a whisper.

All Ashenrock could think was "How lucky for a Druid to die here in this place...the only forest left on this forsaken land. Should we commit him to this land, or take him with us?" The answer came from a voice he could not place. "Take him through! We will not leave him behind!". Ashenrock looked down on the old tauren. His face was still and calm. Ashenrock studied it a bit and shuddered, suddenly realizing that his friend and teacher had been lost...and with it, the Grin's one true voice of reason.

"Take him through. We will not leave him behind." He ordered solemnly

It seemed impossible still.

While his time in the Grin had been short, Ashenrock had quickly taken a liking to Faquarl. He wasn't sure why exactly but he had never really thought too much about it. The old warlord saw something in Ashenrock that no one else ever had. He had mentored Rock quite a bit in the short span that they had come to know one another. Jo had helped him transition into this group of lost souls. Jo had even confided in Ashenrock some pretty important details about the Grin, and life here in general. And now he was gone.

The loss weighed heavily on him but not nearly as heavy as on Faquarls older, and much closer friends. While outside that portal, Ashenrock's natural empathy had felt sorrow and anger like never before. Felora's grief alone almost brought him to his knees and Arkonn's anger was as evident as the field surrounding the dome they were stuck below that day. What had been odd was the feeling that he caught from Faquarl's dimming body. Peace and relief. It felt like a thousand kodos had been lifted from the old Warlord's chest. He felt an almost childlike giddiness pass through him...if only for a fraction of a second. He knew in his heart that Faquarl was at peace...leaving no regrets as his mortality faded.

Rock dared not tell anyone of this knowing that it could only be seen as a cheap attempt to soothe broken souls at this moment. He was sure that he wouldn't be taken seriously and he did not want to come off as some fool trying to patronize. He would keep this to himself until the time was right.

Ashenrock was also worried by Arkonn's words as he had stormed off earlier. What had he meant? What could he do that would need forgiveness? Surely bringing Jo's killer to justice wouldn't warrant any forgiveness. No...Ashenrock had a terrible feeling in his gut and he had no idea what to do about it. He wondered about whether or not he should ask Arkonn about this.

"So let me get this straight..." Demonaro said with a perplexed look on his face.
"Faquarl is dead, Gorfrunch is dead, Arkonn killed him, Agho'linn is trying to save you from the wrath of A'Dal, A'Dal is imprisoning the Grin in Garadar, Suncrown is untrusted, and to top things off...you were made Sythegar just before Gorfrunch died?"

"Yes." Ashenrock answered his younger brother with a nod.

Demonaro blinked a few times "I hope you understand, now, why I don't live with the clan..."

Ashenrock let out a sigh. "This is no time for jokes, brother. Our clan is at a cross-road and there is a lot going on. I need you and the Betrayed with me now."

Rock stood and looked out over the crystal waters next to the Revantusk village where Demonaro and Jin'tal made their home. "Gorfrunch is dead because he betrayed the clan. Arkonn killed him to put an end to his treachery...and to avenge Faquarl's death."

"You know this for fact, brother?" Demonaro said, almost mockingly.

"There is no other explanation. Gorfrunch betrayed our location in the Swamp. It's how the Alliance found us so quickly. His crusade to keep the fight alive put us all in danger...and even killed Faquarl. My loyalty lies with the Grin, brother. I honor Gorfrunch and will never forget the faith he had in me. In the end though, it was his own vanity and ego that killed him...Arkonn was simply the tool of his destruction. I was naive and blind to the signs in front of me at the time...but looking back...it's all quite clear."

Demonaro looked on his older brother with awe. "You've come a long way from a simple healer. I will follow you back to Garadar...I will even wear the Grin's colors. For nothing more than to support you and the allies you've made. Jin'tal will follow as well...he hated not being with you from the begining."

"I need you to assume a healing capacity within the clan, Demo. I'm sure that will please you."

Demonaro grinned widely. "Thank the Earthmother."

"Now comes the mountainous task of trying to convince the other officers that Gorfrunch's death was his own doing. This will not be easy. We have sympathizers within our officer ranks, but I fear Pokes and Grimnir will never be able to see their Warchief's mistakes. I only hope, at least, that I can convince them that we don't seek to dishonor Gorfrunch...but only to vindicate Faquarl's death and Arkonn's honor."

"What is your plan?"

"For now we gather as much information as we can. We also have to find a way to escape the watchful eye of A'Dal. While the Grin recovers and regroups, I doubt we'll be much of an offensive threat...though I pity the idiots that mistake our restructuring as weakness. I will stay as far away from guild politics as possible for now as I need to feel people out...see if I can sway them to believe me. I'll start with those I trust most: Yalim, Felora, and Bellmont. Then I'll see what they suggest."

Ashenrock looked at the seemingly empty corner of the hut. "Betrayed. I need you to poke around the guild...listen to the clan...see what they have to say. Don't attract too much suspicion, though."

"Ow didja know I was `ere, mon!" Jin'tal stepped from the shadow.

"Let's just say that I wouldn't eat any more mithrilhead trout before you start your next reconnaissance mission..." Ashenrock smiled wryly at his old friend, but then his face became somber. "Now if you will excuse me. I have the sad task of escorting Felora and the body of our fallen Warlord to his final resting place."

There was no way that Felora could have carried Faquarl's body on her own; Ashenrock had kindly offered to make the journey with her. She had every intention of making sure that Faquarl's wishes as to where he would be buried were fulfilled, although the spot she had in mind was perhaps not the one that he would have chosen. What remained of her mentor and friend lay securely wrapped in a linen shroud, fitted with a carefully carved wooden mask as was the tauren custom. He had been gingerly placed astride Tamar's back and Felora was entirely prepared to walk beside her kodo on foot to Desolace.

A sudden memory claimed her...the sounds of Faquarl's voice as he knelt in front of Tamar, one arm across the kodo's neck as he held the beast still so that Felora could file his horn down. He'd been kind to her that day, just before he had gone into the Emerald Dream.

She blinked back tears just as Ashenrock approached, a sturdy staff in one hand and a full pack over his shoulder.

"Are you ready, Felora?"

She wanted with all of her heart to scream "NO!", that she would never be ready, not to let go of him. But she simply nodded and moved to Tamar's head, grasping the reins in one hand and leading them out of Silvermoon.

"You're sure you want to go through with this?"

Ashenrock's voice met her ears as they slowly descended the stairwell into Maraudon. He knew the answer...he just needed to hear her reassure herself.

What she really wanted was to fall into the Emerald Dream and never wake again. But she had promised him.

"Aye, I'm sure," she answered quietly. "I owe him this."

The place was eerily quiet and it was surprising that the occupants of Maraudon let the two pass unchallenged. Ashenrock was relieved. He knew what a strain this was on Felora already; the last thing she needed was to have to fight her way through. He also didn't want anything to happen to the warlord's body on the way down. The old tauren was heavy, but on this day Ashenrock would not lose strength or resolve. He turned his attention to Felora. She moved through without saying a word and didn't dare look back. He very much hated to see her this way and would have done anything to relieve even a second of the pain she was obviously in. Ashenrock's natural empathy could feel every bit of raw anger and sadness pouring out of her soul. He had thought of nothing that would take that pain away and decided it better to simply be there for her, absorbing whatever he could of her sadness. He had been further relieved when she had accepted his offer to help her - he couldn't have let her do this alone. He knew what Faquarl had meant to her.

Creatures peered out of the dark corners, studying them as they moved, no doubt terrified of the druids. Even the dryads in the depths of the cavern gave no alarm as they passed. Felora shuddered. Someone was watching over them, that much was clear to her. She and Ashenrock made their way slowly through the watery caverns, the elevation becoming steeper until they finally stood before a broad chasm spanned by a land bridge, guarded by a pair of two very large, rocky golems. Felora stepped forward.

"Let us pass," she demanded.

The giants stirred, frowning. Felora waited, and when no reply came, she shifted easily into her ursine form and dispatched the nearest golem over the rocky ledge and into the water below. Ashenrock winced and weakened a bit when he felt the unbridled anger explode from her as she slammed into the beast. Just as she would have charged the second of the giants, a low hum began to reverberate through the cavern. Rock looked around, cautiously, for the source of the noise.

The giant before Felora suddenly rumbled and stepped back, passive. Beyond it, she could see the grassy platform that was the burial ground of Zaetar, jealously guarded by the round, stony form that was Princess Theradras. Returning to her tauren form, she stepped back beside Ashenrock. He shrugged at her beneath his burden and began walking down the rocky bridge. Felora followed warily. Ashenrock could feel pure, natural energy and was calmed. He sensed that no danger lay ahead. When they reached the elemental, her reaction was not one of blind rage as Felora would have expected. She looked up into the face of Therazane's daughter, pensive.

"Bring him," Theradras said, before moving away.

Ashenrock came forward and lay the warlord's body directly beneath the massive pair of antlers in the center of Zaetar's burial mound. He leaned in close to the body and whispered something that Felora could not make out. He then rose, stood at attention, and saluted his fallen comrade. He turned and with a lingering touch at Felora's shoulder, moved to follow the elemental to the edge of the grassy knoll. He waited, and whispered a silent prayer.

It had all come to this. Felora knelt in the grass before Faquarl, a scene that they had played out many times. Another memory assaulted her, the sound of her mentor's voice making her cringe as it resounded in her head.

"I did what I had to, I've told you that. It was just time for me to move on. You need to understand that, Felora."

The tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.

I'm going to miss you, sir, she thought. Things will never be the same. Never, never.

'Let him go, daughter.'

A feminine whisper at the edge of her mind, so soft that Felora at first didn't hear it.

'Let him go.'

"No!" Felora yelled in a flash of anger. "I don't want -"

Her voice died suddenly, lost in a low and painful sob. She fell to both knees and curled in on herself. Ashenrock started to instinctively move toward her but was stopped cold by some unknown force. He heard a familiar voice in his head say, "This pain is for her to bear alone, my son."

Reluctantly he returned to his place.

'You know he was tired of the war,' the voice continued in Felora's head. 'He deserves this rest.'

This will be forever, Felora thought defiantly from her prone position beside Faquarl's body. He isn't coming back.

'And he knew that. You knew it too,' the voice chided her gently.

I never told him, she thought suddenly with a pang of remorse.

'He knew. He knows even now.'

But I failed him, she thought with a fresh flood of tears. I wasn't there to protect him, Mother. He would be so ashamed of me right now.

"He is proud of you, Felora," said another voice from behind her. In her grief, her senses were dulled and she hadn't noticed Ashenrock finally allow himself to approach.

"But I'm an overemotional wreck," she said aloud, frowning. "He said so himself."

"You care. Empathy is not an easy trait to have."

Ashenrock winced inwardly even as he said the words. He could tell that Felora hardly knew who was speaking to her now; she was staring straight ahead, her violet eyes dark.

"It did nothing to save him," Felora said flatly, her voice catching.

"It was his time," Ashenrock said in a rational tone, nearly standing over her.

"But I wasn't ready," she sobbed, closing her eyes.

Ashenrock leaned down to scoop her from the ground.

"Come, Felora," he said, "let us leave the warlord to his peace."

Felora sunk inward and let herself be carried from the cavern. Her closure was complete, but deep down she knew that it would be a very long time before her heart opened again.