[Story telling] Path of the Moon

[Sorg]

So. I am not that much of an active RPer in terms of participating on a story and stuff, I am more of an writer of my own stories.

This is a story featuring my current (and probably also in Cataclysm) Main, a Night Elf Priest.
He's not that much of an hero. He gets scared easily, prefers to stay in the back and heal what's left of the attentionhoggers after everything's over. And he's only a novice as a priest (well, it's only been ten years since they accepted male elves...)

However, he's old. And so he has one or two stories to tell. He is/was also close friends with Fandral (yes I kinda like him, don't hate me D: )

I really hope you'll enjoy the following, and don't hesitate to point out mistakes. Because it is only translated I am sure I made horrible word choices along the way. Point them out and I will surely correct them
Also, I love criticism. I am glad about every ounce of feedback I get.

So then. Let's start

Path of the Moon

Walking down memory lane

The night elf took a nip of out of his jug of mead while he watched the busy running about on the strees outside of the tavern "A hero's welcome". In the evening Dalaran was a far livelier place than through the day. Many members of the alliance forces used the magical town as a quick traveling hub to the rest of Azeroth, the gathering of fighters against the Lich King's minions … and as a place for selling their looted goods.

Apart from that Dalaran still was a stronghold of wisdom and magic – a reason why the night elf never really was at ease here.
He never understood why his people – Tyrande especially – tolerated the meddling of the human race with the Arcane. Their own history showed them, that nothing good could come from that. Nevertheless, he never challenged the high priestess' wisdom.
He took another sip. Odd that he is late, he thought to himself.

The rattling of plate armor made him look up. A man in his best age – at least for a human, to the nightelf he was still only a child – entered the tavern, looked around and gave the elf a nod as their eyes met. Surrounding guests cleared the way for the human – even in his battered armor, the faint aura of the Holy Light was visible as if he was enshrouded in a cloud of light.
With a light groan the paladin took seat on the chair across from the elf.

"Blessed be Mother Moon, that you're back in one piece, Darrick. Whatever did you do in that cold wasteland that noone heard a word from you that long?", he greeted the human.
"Well, things ya do for the Light and stuff. Killin' some scourge, knockin' on Arthas' door and fightin' for glory and honor" – he turned around and looked at the bartender "Hey, Cotter, old friend. Bring me some of ya Caraway Burnwine, will ya?"
"Comin'"
Darrick turned back to the night elf. "So, Xerian, I saw things in the last weeks, ya would'nt believe. Went with this crazy dwarf, Brann to this Ulduar place. Weird stuff there, I tell ya."

A slight smile appeared on the elf's face. Everytime Darrick reappeared from nowhere after vanishing into thin air, he had new adventures to tell. He first met the paladin on an expedition into Azjol'Nerub, a kingdom of the nerubians which were converted to servants of the Lich King. Since then, they had become close friends.
Although Xerian was less fond of the paladin's flightiness – as well as his alcohol problem – the meetings with him were one of the few glimmers of light in these dark times.
As a matter of fact, Darrick reminded him a little of his old friend Fandral. At least of the Fandral before the tragic incident in Silithus thousand years ago.

"What's with the sad face?"
"Nothing special", Xerian lied.
"Nah, I'm not going so easy on you this time. Ya know, each time we met, I tell you about some adventures. But today", he put his jug of burnwine down, "it's ya turn! I mean, you lived millem- … milli... very long!", he babbled.
A brief moment the nightelf thought about that. Afterwards, he nodded.
"All right. I know exactly, what I'll tell you something about. I wasn't there myself at that time – I was only a scribe back then – but the horrors of these times were known through all of Kalimdor. Thousands years in the past... the War of the Shifting Sands."


Silithus. Merciless the azerothian sun burned down on this stark wasteland. Throught the desert mysterious crystals stood out from the earth. Worms, scorpids and spiders populated the sands dunes. Some parts of the desert were infested with earth and air elementals.
However, all that is but one face of Silithus. The hives of the insectoid Silithid scarred the desert. Deep under the ground their hustle and bustle reached.

In Silithus' center old night elf buildings emerged, still inhabited by fierce warriors, who made it their life task to keep watch on the insect's activities. To control them. To exterminate them.
The aversion of the millennia-old elves to this race ran deep. However, they rarely talk about the reasons. Only the scarab wall in the south raises as a monument, a memorial to the incidents that took place here about thousand years ago.


A millennium before...
A few night elves lived here, trying to explore the bleak landscape in the south of Kalimdor. One of the present species aroused special interest. Insectoids, who seemed to possess some amount of intelligence.
Days turned into weeks and nothing particular happened. Well, until the moment when one of the more daring night elves gathered a small group of like-minded friends around him.

This group of four curious young Kal'dorei traveled to one of the near Silithid hives – they named the insects after the desert, Silithus – only half a mile north of Cenarion Hold. From there they wanted to study this still so unknown race closer.
"Maloran, are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn't we at least tell the others?", one of them asked. He carried a heavy axe on his back, the mighty plate armor and scars on his body which he proudly showed off cleary identfying him as a seasoned warrior although he looked no holder than four thousand years.
"If you wanna bitch out, Tandral, you might as well run back home now. Sure, let's tell the others and stop us because it's too dangerous and everything", the other one retorted.

The other two only grunted approvingly. One of them repeatedly mumbled some calming words to his companion, a large webwood spider which became more and more uneasy the further they got to the Silithid.
Until now they only encountered some workers who ignored the small group entirely. Careful they followed the big bug. After a short while their patch ended at an entrance of the insect hive.
"By Elune...", Maloran gasped. "These hives are larger than we thought! There probably is a whole network of underground tunnels here – maybe even connecting the several hives!"

He laid his hand on the weird looking tunnel wall. "I have no clue that this stuff is... come on, let's go deeper inside."
"Maloran, I'm not that sure about this anymore... this place is like... completely dead.", one of them hesitated. His face looked distraught, constantly looking around as if searching something. "I was in this desert a few times when I traveled through the Emerald Dream. Well, you know that the dream is Azeroth looking as if no intelligent being ever laid hand on it. I've never seen these hives there."
"Brilliant! That means, they are intelligent after all! Let's go! Who knows what secrets lie hidden in there." He grinned.
Careful he took one step after the other to test the surface's state. After he was sure it was solid, he gave his companions a nod.

-------------------

There is more, but I don't want to post too much at once. And yeah, it's kinda like a retelling of the War of the Shifting Sands at the moment, but there is more to this than just that, promise

---------- Post added 2010-07-19 at 01:21 PM ----------

I'll just add a little bit more.

[...]

Daylight only reached few steps into the tunnel, however small bugs whose abdomen glowed in an orange light, lit it up a bit. "Seems like these bugs cannot see in the dark, just like us", whispered Maloran. After a short distance, the tunnel split up into two. One leading deeper into the hive, the other ending in a larger room, from which the characteristic buzz of the Silithid could be heard.
Maloran wiped the sweat from his brow. These tunnels were hot and fuggy and also rather narrow. It was a little bit hard to breathe down here, but the corridor leading to the large room was short, so they arrived in a part of the hive which looked like a... hatchery. Along the walls hundreds if not thousands of silithid eggs lay around. Several drones scurried path the night elves and back into the tunnels, while others entered the hatchery and carried food in their mandibles which they piled in the room's center.

However, another subspecies of Silithid could be found here.
Winged conspecifics, from whose abdomen protruded an armlong stinger. A thick substance dripped from the tip and corroded the floor on which it landed.
Maloran gulped. He neither wanted to know what this creature could do with its stinger nor what its poison was capable of.
"By Elune!", the warrior exclaimed. "Maloran, let's get out of here. We've seen enough, didn't we? Please..."
"He's right", the druid added. "We weren't attacked yet, but if these giant wasps view us a threat for", he waved around, "their offspring, we could be in serious danger."
"Then we'll just stay away from the eggs", their leader shrugged off their concerns.

One of the creatures seemed to have noticed them and hovered towards them. The night elves held their breath and didn't move a muscle.
The giant stinger bobbed up and down menacingly in front of the hunter's face who had kneeled down to his spider.
Maloran was overcome by doubts whether this expedition was a good idea for the first time. From close up the silithid wasp looked even more dangerous than from afar, the high-pitched whirr created by the wings of the insect, dinned in his ears and made it hard to concentrate.
They could only hope that these animals reacted to movements... the night elved could remain motionless for hours, especially druids and hunters excelled in this skill.

However, fate had other things in store for them. Above the night elves' heads, on the ceiling of the hatchery, another silithid subspecies crawled around. This variant was primarily tasked with building and fortification of the hive. The solid material on which the elves moved around were comprised to large parts of earth and special fluids these silithid secreted.
This exemplar was just about to release a drop of this substance – which landed on top of Maloran's head without warning.
Surprised and disgusted the night elf shuddered. "What, by Mot-" The rest of this exclamation was lost in a croak.
The silithid wasp had immediately reacted to the movement and had impaled Maloran with its stinger, accompanied by a loud screech.
The warrior was the first to act and plunged his axe deep into the wasp's side. It tore up one of the creature's wings and left a deep wound in the chitin shell of the insect. Meanwhile, the druid had removed the stinger from Maloran's chest and supported the badly bleeding night elf. "We have to get out of here!", he called out to his companions.

"Go ahead", the warrior shouted back over the buzzing of the silithid, "Eldram and I will run interference for you!"
"Tandral, that's insane!"
"I know!", he retorted, while he struck his axe in the chitin shell of the first encroaching silithid, "and now GO!" Swiftly he dodged the stinger of an angry wasp, which was blinded by the spider's wep. Several arrows battered into its body and let it stumble back a few yards. Tandral uttered a battle cry and let his axe rave among the insects in a deadly whirlwind. His strong armor protected him to some amount from the claws and bites of the silithid.

The druid slowy bore his way through the tunnel they entered from. Maloran leaned heavily on him and continously mumbled incoherent syllables. He had already tried to ease his pain with nature's powers or neutralizing the poison in his body, but to no effect. These hives really were lifeless. Nonetheless, it pained him even more that he had to abandon his friends.
"Hang on, Maloran... hang on. Don't you dare die off", he whispered, more to himself than to the injured.
In the distance he could already see the sun's light. "It's not far..."
Suddenly a silithid crawled from a side tunnel they had not noticed before. It blurted out a noise which sounded like a war cry. The druid gulped, while Maloran only sounded a faint, insane giggle, distorted by pain.