They're in the Trees 005

Arriving at the gates of Astranaar, Turion was struck by the city's beauty. 

Stretching for miles on end, it was home to more than 200,000 Night Elves. Or roughly 10% of the total population. The provincial capital & only Kaldorei city in Ashenvale was extremely important for projecting power, culture, and society within the region. 

The city sat at the center of a glowing lake, and was surrounded by a circular white wall covered in familiar enchantments. Large trees & other ancient overgrowth were everywhere, and acted as homes for the locals. Armored Sentinels could be seen patrolling the parapets, and Ancient Protectors slept upon every street corner. 

For the first time since transmigration, he spotted civilians too. Many bulky men, and lithe fit women were happily crafting items in their tree hollows with their curtains open. Pots, tapestries, carpets, clothes, arrows, enchantments, bricks, everything a society could ever need was being produced with a slow and steady care that leaned towards perfection & artistic expression rather than a desperate need to make money. 

A relaxed, safe invisible aura seemed to permeate the air. In general, these long lived elves moved at their own pace, and interacted with one another in an incredibly friendly manner. 

In Kaldorei society, there were no locks upon their doors, and people were free to choose their occupation. Heck, the population was so small, that housing-as long as it was within a certain range-in most cases was free too!

As for food, there was an incredibly large field at the center of the settlement. And nourishing the crops was a massive Treant several stories tall, it was a Tree of Life. Tiny blue wisps flew around its branches, and Turion even witnessed one wisp become created under the living tree's grasp. Fruits & vegetables were grown at an accelerated rate, and were free to be picked by any of the Kaldorei. If there were any Druids, many of them would congregate beneath the roots of the Tree of Life to enter the Emerald Dream, or discuss wisdom amongst its branches. 

Meanwhile, meat was not raised as livestock. Instead, a dedicated Hunter's Hall served that function. Sisters who craved the hunt without being restricted by the Sentinels rigid military discipline could take this career path. Learning skills, and advancing in tiers whilst maintaining their freedom, members of this ‘loose’ organization often took on the roles of Rangers or Hunters, accompanied by faithful animal companions. 

Along the way, he spotted several other noteworthy locations. Such as amphitheaters, bathhouses, restaurants, inns, and even a property or two belonging to his parents. 

Of course the other important spots besides the Hunters Hall & Tree of Life were the: Temple of Elune, Sentinel Fortress, Chimera Roost, and the trio of Treants, the: Ancient of Lore, Wonders, & Wind. 

Turion was particularly interested in the Treants. 

The Ancient of Lore was his best bet to learn professions, and was a must visit destination whilst he was in town. If he could learn every job from the orange leafed elder, that would be amazing. 

Next, the Ancient of Wonders was a repository for rare items, potions, enchanted objects and more. Much like a bag of holding, the ‘wonder’ tree had its own pocket space. Hopefully it took gold, because Turion was ready to burn a hole in his pocket. 

Lastly, there was the Ancient of Wind who could teach a Druid spells of the sky! So far, his System had been pretty good to him. However, why would he limit himself solely relying upon it? Exploring magic was an exciting prospect, and he refused to limit his future potential when the inheritance of the Night Elves was right before him. 

Whilst he was lost in thought, the escort eventually reached their location, the Sentinel Fortress. Built like a Renaissance style Star Fort, it had its own separate moat, and was several miles large. The enchantments on the architecture were several magnitudes greater than what Silverwing Hold was made of. 

“Impressive, isn't it?” The Elite suddenly asked. 

“Indeed, Silverwing Hold pales in comparison.” Turion swiftly nodded along. 

“It must be. Satyr have breached the city more than once over the last 10,000 years. This fortress is the ultimate deterrence.” She explained. 

Krolg, meanwhile, eyed everyone with hostility, and snorted, showing his stance.

Turion ignored his surely companion, and entered the Star Fort through a draw bridge. 

By this point, his bodyguard, Lynore had been visible ever since they entered the city. Anti-scrying enchantments were everywhere, and invisibility was extremely difficult to maintain. Afterall, Rogue, Assassin & other stealth based classes were the favorites of the Satyr. Allowing even one of those furry cloven hooved bastards into an elven settlement could spell disaster. Despite her appearance, Turion pointedly ignored her. Not out of some deep rooted malice, but because she wouldn't talk to him even if he said something. It was pointless to engage with his bodyguard/watcher for the time being. That said, her presence gave him peace of mind to undertake some of the more risky quests that would otherwise see him dead. 

Bypassing grand tapestries, immaculate artwork, and tons of works dedicated to Elune, they eventually entered a central spire. Built completely of white brick, and looking something like a giant obelisk-think Washington's monument only much larger-they stepped into a large wooden device that looked something like a basket. Seconds later, nature magic flowed through the area, then the basket-really an elevator-took them upward. 

Reaching the top floor, they entered a wide meeting room almost identical in appearance to the one in Silverwing Hold. A round table with a large map was in the center, and there was plenty of space to hold a council. This space also served as an office, and curious enough, there were two desks inside. 

Sitting on the left was Sentinel Commander Tara Thenysil, responsible for the military operations surrounding Astranaar. 

On the right was Sentinel Commander Raene Wolfrunner, responsible for the civil affairs of all of Ashenvale. 

Both women were Epic Hero's, and were hard at work issuing orders via scrying orb, writing orders upon scrolls, or staring at maps. 

Turion didn't have an ‘Aunt/Nephew’ relationship with either of them, like he did with Aunt Haldrissa, but they were confidants of his adopted big sister, belonging to his mother's faction. From what he could recall, they seemed to be somewhat at loggerheads, but talents like them couldn't be rotting away, wasting their talents at the Night Elf capital of Darnassus, so they had been sent here despite their differences. 

“Commander Wolfrunner, Commander Thenysil. Here is the scroll regarding the battle at Warsong Gulch.” The Elite saluted, and then presented the item to the provincial governor, Raene Wolfrunner. 

The dark-red haired woman smiled, and nodded. “You have traveled far, sisters, and done well to hand me this report. Satyr have been intercepting our transmissions as of late, and critical information can no longer be submitted over scrying orb.” 

“We apologize that we could not spare more soldiers. Please convey our feelings to Commander Woodshaper.” The silver-haired Commander, Thenysil added. 

“Then we shall take our leave. However, before we go, we were entrusted by Commander Woodshaper to return young Turion to Darnassus. However, he promised this Furbolg he would cleanse his tribe of corruption.” The Elite said in a helpless tone of voice. 

“Oh? The child brought about by the harmony of moon & nature has finally taken root? Welcome, child. Please, if you possess the means to cleanse the Greenpaw tribe to the south, then I would be more than happy to reward you.” Wolfrunner smiled, and reaching into a drawer in her desk, revealed a shimmering necklace, and a large, palm sized glowing coin. 

Although he couldn't see its stats just by looking at it, Turion knew he wanted it. Afterall, a gamer could never have enough loot, right? 

“Just the other week, you were talking about cleansing the furred filth. Would you truly risk the life of shan'do's son? One look, and you can tell he is but a fledgling youth at the Advanced tier. What would happen if he died?” Thenysil shook her head. 

Wolfrunner hesitated, then slowly placed the necklace back into its drawer. “I apologize, Turion, but I cannot allow you to go to the Greenpaw tribe. It is too dangerous.” 

Right when Turion was about to step forward to argue his case, the Elite beat him to it. 

“Read the report again, sisters. Turion Stormrage is qualified to undertake this endeavor. Young he may be, but weren't Malfurion, and Tyrande but children when they first resisted the Burning Legion? Turion has promised this Furbolg. To go back upon his word so soon after leaving the nest could do irreparable harm to his long term growth & character.” The Elite hotly argued. 

Turion snapped his mouth shut, and looked at his traveling companion in surprise. You go girl! He never anticipated someone who was so dedicated to returning him to Darnassus earlier would now become his most supportive ally. 

“Thenysil…we cannot allow bad habits to form.” Wolfrunner slowly got out.

“I have no Sentinels to spare. You will be the one to explain his death to big sister Feathermoon.” Thenysil snorted, returning to her work. 

Wolfrunner hesitated, then slowly nodded. 

“Your words have moved me, Lieutenant. I had hoped the child of Stormrage & Whisperwind would soar in the sky like Elune. Our people need heroes now, more than ever. I will believe in your judgment.” Wolfrunner said with a sigh. “Turion Stormrage. I permit you to go on this quest. Astranaar will always have her gates open to you, and should you have need of my ear, this office is always available. Before you depart for the Greenpaw tribe, I suggest you find the scout, Teronis, he has been pestering me about the Furbolgs for some time. You can find him at the Hunters Hall.” 

From the side, Thenysil shot her counterpart a look. As if to say brown nosing, !@#$ (curses in Darnassian). 

“Thank you for your magnanimity, big sisters.” Turion bowed to the two millenia+ older women, and then exited the tower, not wanting to spend another minute between the feuding ladies. 

The citizens may be happy go lucky for the most part, but it appeared the power struggle at the top was very real. When one was immortal, how did you advance in rank when the sister above you had been the Provincial Governor for a thousand years? As much as he loved his new society, there were bound to be many people who viewed age as a sacrosanct marker for competence. 

Shaking his head, he noticed a small ping from the System: 

[Quest: Cure the Greenpaw Furbolg tribe of corruption. Reward: 50,000 exp]

Nice~ 

Once more on the streets of the provincial capital, the Lieutenant was about to wave Turion goodbye, when he asked them to follow him to a nearby inn. 

“We truly must return to Silverwing Hold.” The Lieutenant sternly replied with a hint of exasperation in her voice. 

“Please, it will only take a moment.” Turion smiled. 

Reluctantly following him, the Sentinels waited outside, mounted on their sleek black panthers. Emerging a minute later, Turion walked out empty handed. 

“Did they refuse you service?” The Elite said in a low tone, practically ready to break the spine of the inn's proprietor. 

“What? No, my father built this place, I receive free room & board. I just wanted to buy you this!” Turion said in thanks. 

Holding out a hand, he pretended to reach for his pocket-where he, as a second gen rich kid, might reasonably keep a bag of holding-then withdrew several buckets full of fish, letting the big cats snack upon the maritime food with relish. 

“Tuna, yay!~” One cat meowed, rubbed up against Turion's side, then pounced forward. 

Turion rubbed its head, then withdrew some delicacies that could not be found at Silverwing Hold. “Here, it's my treat.” 

“This is most gracious, however, we Sentinels are proud Warriors, we do not need the pastries baked by men.” The Lieutenant proudly stated, turning her nose upward. 

However, her stomach growled just at that moment, and the other sisters started to giggle at her. She shot a glare at them, stopping the laughter, but they retained sly smirks. 

“...your gift is much appreciated…Turion. I look forward to your growth. Ishnu-dal-dieb, good fortune to you & your family.” 

“Shaha lor'ma, thank you, sisters.” Turion bowed towards their backs. 

“So many customs.” Krolg shook his head. “Now are you going to keep standing there like a bad host, or are you going to feed me too?” 

Turion's stomach growled, and he realized that he really had been a bad host. “Come inside, let's eat, and get ourselves a pair of rooms while we're at it.” 

Gesturing for the Furbolg to follow him into the inn, he took one last glance at the backs of the Sentinels, then breathed in the scenery of this high trust society. 

This is what I am going to protect. This is what I'm fighting for. 

Never in a million years would he allow the Orc, Troll, Naga, or Satyr to desecrate these lands. 

Never. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting Krolg drunk out of his wits, and sending him off to bed after eating his fill, Turion stockpiled his inventory with moonberry juice & some food, took a quick bath, then departed the inn. He had decided to visit each of the major locations in Astranaar. Then, ideally, he would set off for Greenpaw village the next day. 

The closest location to the fortress was the Temple of Elune. Both places were centrally located within the city, and were about a mile apart. 

On the way to the temple, it was nice to simply mingle amongst the rest of the people, and enjoy the architecture. Besides the top leadership of Kaldorei society, few people knew what he looked like, and he was practically anonymous. 

The steady level of peace, and healthy environment was greater than any city on Earth that he had been to in the past. Breathing in the trees, looking at the colorful plants, berries, and leaves used as decoration, he fully believed that the Night Elves knew what was up. Society on Azeroth would not suffer with them at the helm. 

Feeling his convictions soar, Turion eventually made it to the Temple of Elune. 

Sitting upon a small hillside, the open air building was made up of tons of massive, fantasy sized columns. It was designed like the Temple of Athena in Athens, but was five times larger, and had a domed roof. Night covered the sky, and the moonlight poured onto the scene beautifully.

Ordinary people were actually scarce, but as he entered the structure, and moved towards the dome, he saw many women praying under the concentrated light. 

Standing in a pool of water that went up to the ankles, the women were performing martial katas, and infusing their weapons with the holy-arcane aura that Turion was all too familiar with. Clad in all white robes, they were naturally some of the most graceful killing machines he had ever laid eyes upon. 

Feeling the appreciation like one might appreciate a lioness for her skill at the hunt, Turion felt that there was an intrinsic beauty in these servants of Elune. Doubtlessly they were each attractive women, but when everyone was a 9 or 10/10, he would not lose his mind over external factors. For an elf with a long life span, if he ever pursued a relationship, Turion would consider a woman's intelligence, loyalty, and kindness as the qualities he was looking for. 

Sparring with one another, their punches & kicks were powerful, creating visible impacts in the air. Most of the sisters present were Advanced tier Priestesses of the Moon, but based solely upon their mystic techniques, he would bet in their favor against any similarly tiered Warrior. 

It just went to show how powerful a class was that followed a Goddess. A Goddess, mind you, that was more active in mortal affairs than the Titan Keepers, or even the Dragon Aspects. The so-called guardians of Azeroth were fair weather friends. Meanwhile, only Elune had stuck with the Kaldorei all this time. 

Amongst the hundred or so sisters he saw training, there were also several dozen Elites, and five Heroes, showing that although this occupation was small in number, they were by no means weak. Given the importance of Astranaar, he wouldn't doubt if there was an Epic Hero or two stationed nearby. 

“Have you seen enough, male?” One of the Heroes approached him, and said in a somewhat hostile tone. 

“Do not be so hasty to dismiss him, sister.” Another Hero admonished, then looked Turion up & down like he was a rare piece of beef. “Perhaps this male can join the Moon Guard.” 

Pointing over her shoulder, the woman gestured towards a small group of ten Elites & one Hero. Each one was a male, and had a Warrior sub-class, Moon Guard next to their name. Dressed in fancy expensive enchanted plate armor, and wielding fantasy-sized buster swords, the danger of this unit was no less than the group of Tauren led by Baine. 

In essence, they were like Paladins, but for Elune. 

“Apologies for my intrusion, Priestesses. My name is Turion Stormrage, son of Tyrande Whisperwind.” He said, shamelessly using his mother's name when it suited him. “And I have come here seeking one from your order. Her name is Velinde Starsong.” 

He slowly spoke, making sure to appear firm & decisive. 

“An arrogant one, aren't you?” The Priestess knowingly smirked, and squeezed his bicep. “Are you certain you would not become my Moon Guard?” 

“I feel a connection to you through Elune. My sister does not speak false, you would do well to join us.” The second Hero added on, although she was much more serious. 

“My apologies. If she is not here, please send her a message. I am staying at the Stormrage inn.” Turion remained respectful on the surface, yet internally was feeling creeped out that these millenia+ old women were sexually harassing him. 

Pretty as they were, and as cool as that enchanted armor looked, he had no interest in becoming another person’s boytoy.

“Honored Stormrage, I am Velinde, you wished to speak with me?” A proud warrior woman strode forth from the pool, and stood before him. 

Clad in black-gold Sentinel rune armor, and wielding an enchanted spear-like glaive, it was apparent that this woman with long silver hair was ready to go on an adventure. Furthermore, the other sisters in the pool were all giving her ugly looks behind her back, which, in all honesty made him interested in this woman. 

Just what did she do that offended all the other Priestesses? Maybe it was because she wore all plate armor to train in whilst everyone else was in white robes? Which was crazy, because training melee skills in armor was only logical. 

Regardless, he had always gotten along with women who were hated by the ‘popular girls,’ so he was optimistic about this meeting. In his experience, the other girls were just jealous because they weren't as smart, athletic, or pretty as the ‘unpopular' girl. 

“Please, may we speak somewhere private, it regards news left behind by your Aunt.” Turion said in a low tone. 

The level 25 Advanced tier Priestess of the Moon was one step away from reaching Elite, and was full of fighting spirit. However, upon hearing Turion mention her Aunt, a somewhat haggard look appeared on her otherwise flawless face. 

“This way.” Velinde gestured for him to follow, not even sparing another glance at her peers. 

Turion bowed his head at the older women, then was quick to follow after the martially inclined devotee. Led to a quiet cloister, she sat down at a small table, and stared at him intensely. 

Taking a seat across from her less than 3ft apart, he felt cramped, and didn't bother hiding his discomfort, figuring being as ‘open’ as possible with Velinde was important. Because he was about to lie to her~ After all, he couldn't very well reveal that his knowledge came from the plot of a game, right? 

The reason why he had come for her specifically, was because her Aunt had been the guardian of the Scythe of Elune. Turion knew that the location was in a hidden grove known as the ‘Howling Vale.’

He was certain he could grease the wheels, and ask around for its specific location, but he didn't want other people knowing that the scion of Tyrande & Malfurion was looking for something. If the Satyr somehow caught wind of this, and set up an ambush, or got their hands on the scythe, it would be game over. 

Therefore, he wanted to find a guide, to have the person who first discovered the scythe in canon to take him there…plus, Velinde was a bit of an idiot, and he couldn't risk her getting the scythe ahead of him, claiming it for her own use. Perhaps that was a simplistic & cruel statement. At the very least, the actions she took in canon leading up to her death made Turion suspect her decision making skills. 

When she got her hands on the legendary artifact, she had unleashed a pack of about 30 mindless Night Elf Worgen, and used them to slaughter Burning Legion forces in Felwood. But due to repeated uses of the weapon, she had accidentally cut open more & more portals, releasing so many Worgen from the Emerald Dream that she couldn't control them anymore. 

Somehow, she had the brilliant idea to travel to the other side of the world, and went to the continent of Azeroth looking for answers. 

Turion sort of got not wanting to take the item that transformed Night Elves into Worgen back to Darnassus. Because in reality, Malfurion would probably bitch slap her for doing that, or Tyrande would have the artifact locked up for all time. He really understood that Velinde wanted to be the special hero, and save her people. To use the legendary artifact for good. Turion truly respected her, and admired her for that quality. 

But for the love of fuck, why did she have to go to the Humans for answers? She ended up getting conned by the leader of the Shadowfang Keep dungeon, Archmage Arugal. 

She then went on to die an inglorious death to some Kobolds of all things, and the Scythe of Elune was lost. 

Therefore! 

Turion saw this as the perfect opportunity to responsibly use the super dangerous artifact, and get himself a promising young Priestess of the Moon on his squad at the same time. 

Scratching his chin with a sly smirk, Turion slapped a big hand on the table. 

“Velinde, Elune has spoken to me in a dream. The artifact that your Aunt guarded in the past is hidden just north of Astranaar. She guided me to you, and wants us to work together to claim it.” Turion said in an aggressive manner. 

“I have been praying for this. This is destiny. The will of Elune herself. We must set out at once!” Velinde slammed her open palm on the table, doubling Turion's intensity, and then stood up in a hurry. 

Turion blinked, stunned by her enthusiasm, and lack of concerns. 

“Come, there is no time to lose.” She said, the holy-arcane light in her white eyes was particularly bright as she lifted him up. 

Damn she's strong. 

“Not so fast, Priestess. I have come to you in this time because Elune felt your excitement, and issued me a warning of the perils to come. For this adventure, we must prepare ourselves to fight a mighty foe. I am assembling a team, and to prove our mettle first, we will cleanse the Greenpaw Furbolg tribe south of Astranaar of their corruption.” Turion steadily replied, his iron-like grip matching her power. 

For a second, Velinde glared at him, and ground her teeth, then stomped her boot into the ground. 

“A man dares argue with a Priestess of the Moon?” She snorted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“In Kaldorei society, the Keepers of the Grove are equals with the daughters of Elune. And it was I who received this vision from Elune, not you. I am the leader of this expedition, Velinde. It is ordained.” Turion sternly reprimanded, unwilling to put up with this woman's bullshit. 

Turion took a step forward, and pulling upon the memory of the Bear Form, channeled the red haze of Primal Rage. At the same time, a pinkish bubble shield of [Mark of the Wild] coated his form. Pressing out with his overly muscular pectorals, he pushed the amazonian warrior woman back against the wall, asserting his dominance. 

Might met with might, and spell met with spell as a white, holy-arcane aura permeated Velinde's body. The energies of two Advanced tier magically aligned beings grinded into one another like a pair of rocks during an earthquake. 

Sweat accumulated at Turion's temple as his mana swiftly drained due to maintaining this peak state. Velinde was no better off as she grit her teeth, willing herself not to give up. 

Eventually, when both of them were about to collapse due to mana exhaustion, Turion pulled back. Standing with his fists clenched, he then turned away so that she could not see the burns on his chest. 

Meanwhile, Velinde slumped back onto the table, covered in thin lacerations due to [Thorns]. 

“I. Acknowledge you. As team leader. But we will spar. After the Greenpaw village. Clean up.” Velinde all but hissed between gasps. 

“Hmph.” Turion snorted, unwilling to show weakness, and holding in a mouthful of blood. 

All she saw was the broad muscles on his well defined back as he departed. 

‘He's strong. But mother said I was the strongest Kaldorei under 100 years old. This cannot be. I will best him!’ Velinde thought to herself, unable to look away from his departing figure. 

Meanwhile, Turion insta-cast [Rejuvenation] on himself as soon as he walked out of the room. Staggering to hold himself up on the wall, he scratched at his chest as the flesh rapidly healed from the burn. 

‘Damned bitch is crazy! Just because she has nice hair, and a good scent, doesn't mean I'll go easy on her during our spar. By then, I should already be promoted to Elite.’ 

Leaving the Temple of Elune, Turion figured he could find his next recruit-the scout Teronis-at the Hunters Hall, as Commander Wolfrunner had suggested. 

Traveling to a purple-tiled building that looked something like a mix between a lodge, and a viking style long house, he saw plenty of sisters traveling around with owls, tigers, lions & bears. Oh my. 

Jokes aside, these were definitely the most ‘savage’ Kaldorei that he had seen. They barely wore any clothes, exposing long legs, well toned midsections, and beautiful skin that would make any model blush in shame. Bone tooth necklaces were common, and pretty much everyone was walking around with a bow. Unlike the refined discipline of the plate armored Sentinels, or the solemn air of the Rangers who fought upon the walls of Silverwing Hold, these Hunters were wild. 

Entering the Hunters Hall, there was a decent mix of men & women at about a 30/70 split, favoring the ladies. Music from a guitar was being played at a more aggressive pace, and some people were playing drums. Standing upon a stage, a man & woman were singing a ballad about long lost love. Many people were sipping on alcoholic beverages, and almost everyone was sobbing due to the story. 

Turion felt slightly awkward walking into this scene, like someone who had accidentally walked into the wrong class or office. However, it was cool to see that the world was lived in. That life wasn't all work work work, and that some people found the time to enjoy themselves. 

Walking up to a muscular male barkeep, the man freely offered him some spiked moonberry juice before Turion could ask him a question. Shaking his head at the offer, Turion leaned in to whisper. “I'm looking for a scout called Teronis, Commander Wolfrunner sent me.” 

Using authority, and then silently placing a silver coin on the bar table, Turion hoped for a swift response. 

The man across from him rolled his eyes. “You must be young, and read about such backward tactics from some travelogue. Perhaps if you were an ambassador to some Human lands, or a Goblin city, this would be necessary. But here? Never do such things again.” The barkeep sternly rebuked, yet shared his wisdom openly. 

“My mistake, thank you for the advice.” Turion humbly replied, genuinely thankful. 

“Good. Go down to the shooting range in the basement. You can notice Teronis by his height. Be sure not to make fun of the youth, he's sensitive about it.” 

Turion nodded in thanks, then walked towards a flight of stairs going down. 

Entering a shooting range that didn't look too different from an American gun range, he spotted a few elves shooting arrows at targets. Some were aiming at moving golems, whilst others were shooting within different levels of wind velocity/rain. Magic truly was awesome to be able to casually recreate this type of training environment. Turion figured it would be a good place to shore up his own skills with a bow in the future. 

Looking around, he spotted a short dude with a very ‘manly’ face, gruff beard, and long turquoise hair. He wasn't ugly, per se, but in this world, where everyone else was a 9 or 10, this guy was definitely a 5 or 6 in comparison, and stood at a ‘short’ 6ft tall. When the average male was 7’0 to 7’5ft tall, this was like being a 4’5ft tall man back on Earth. Turion held no hatred or disdain in his heart for such people, but societal norms were what they were. To ignore them would be to blind oneself to the truth. 

However, perhaps the Hunter, Teronis, had used that energy to push himself hard. A level 25 Advanced tier Hunter wasn't anything special when lined up against the other elves. However, if he was young, like the barkeeper had implied, then perhaps the scout was hard working. Which, all things considered, was what Turion valued. It was rare to find a Night Elf solely dedicated to the pursuit of their craft instead of slowly mastering it over thousands of years. Such a mindset naturally improved Turion's favorability of the ‘ugly’ elf. 

Looking at the short guy land several arrows in rapid succession, he was reminded of a quest. It turned out, the one that originally involved Krolg included this Hunter.

Only. 

In that quest, Teronis was a pile of bones. 

It seemed that Teronis was adamant about brokering peace between the Night Elves and Furbolgs. That he had had many friends amongst them before they became corrupted. In the original quest, Teronis wanted to find a mage's rod, polymorph himself into a Furbolg, and scout the situation out. Unfortunately, before that could happen, he was eaten by a mob of Murlocs…

That might sound funny, but lore accurate Murlocs were no joke. They deadass captured Thrall & were going to massacre the entire Dark Spear tribe, forcing the Trolls away from their homeland. It was easy to clown on the relatively weak fish people, but as Turion was well aware, numbers on Azeroth could and did change the outcome of battles. Even Demigods could be slain by weaker lifeforms. 

Watching the Hunter perfectly land each strike, he waited until his quiver was empty to approach. 

“You've been watching for some time.” Teronis said, eyeing Turion up & down, his nose twitching. “You smell like a Druid, and came here after visiting the Sentinel Fortress & Temple of Elune. Did Commander Wolfrunner send you?” 

Turion listened to this gruffly delivered analysis-privately wondering if the shorter than usual, bearded man was part Dwarf-then nodded along. 

“Impressive deductive skills, Teronis. My name is Turion Stormrage, and I have the means to cleanse the minds of the Greenpaw Furbolgs. One of them already numbers as my companion, and I am setting off tomorrow. Commander Wolfrunner indeed pointed me in your direction. Are you interested?” Turion asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I always wanted to be a Druid, but they claimed my mindset wasn't steady enough.” Teronis said instead, seemingly looking off into nothing with a thousand yard stare. 

‘Uhhh.’ 

“Never mind me. To fight alongside Malfurion Stormrage is my dream. Perhaps fighting alongside his son will be nearly as interesting. You have my bow, Stormrage.” Teronis said, inclining his head. 

“Thank you for joining my squad, Teronis, I look forward to seeing your skills in action. Meet me at the Stormrage inn near sunset tomorrow, and we'll head out at dusk.” Turion returned the nod, then departed the Hunters Hall in search of the Ancients. 

Teronis watched the perfectly sculpted mass of muscle depart with envy in his heart. Although there was no malice, he couldn't help but feel jealous. When the big guy standing a head taller than most other males, and sporting muscles bigger than the most notorious Hunter he had seen, Teronis couldn't help but be a little down. As soon as he had walked into the basement, the girls all kept stealing glances at him. Then, when the name Stormrage dropped, even Teronis had been momentarily starstruck. His keen sense of smell had picked up unconcealed desire from more than a dozen females. Of course he was jealous. 

However, he was also happy. 

By traveling with a sure-to-be future legendary character, Teronis might be able to have some of that fame rub off on him. 

…but if he wanted to remain as a companion to Stormrage, then he had to prove his worth! 

Instead of going home after training as per usual, Teronis drank some mana rich moonberry juice, and began to train like his life depended on it. A competitive fire had been lit in his heart, and he refused to fall behind. Whilst others relied upon inheritances, Goddesses, and bloodlines, he would show the world the results of his hard work!

~~~~~

Turion, meanwhile, spent the next few hours consulting with the Ancient Treants, and gathering supplies. By the time the night was ending, and dawn was approaching, he was dead tired. 

Hastily returning to Stormrage inn, he found his room, and collapsed onto a pillow. 

The next day, he was going to Greenpaw village, and was going to farm exp or die trying. 

~~~~~

AN: So there's our party for now. A racist Warrior Furbolg so angry the Old Gods couldn't corrupt him, an arrogant Amazonian Priestess with great strength + a hero complex, and an insecure shorty Hunter with great observational skills + a good work ethic. 

How is my depiction of Kaldorei society? Does it feel authentic to the source material? I tried to give them a fair shake without rose tinted glasses, but didn't want to be too harsh.