NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Continued from here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=589923)]

Serrah lay in the grass the woodland glade, looking up at the stars.

The upper side of the cruise-ship was home to a vast dome, made of a material that shimmered in the starlight. The dome contained a sizeable forest, wide-boled black-green Marakaska trees grew all across the floor ofo the dome, one by one and a third kilometers long, an oval shaped green gem on the surface of the ship.

There were two, one on either side, the ship’s internal gravity reversed in the ‘lower’ one, a shimmering yellow piece of desert, whirling sands stirred constantly by the heat.

The ship was six kilometers long – three wide – and home to the best part of sixteen million people when fully loaded. These ships were in some ways poorly known, they rarely ventured near populous systems – the necrontyr had long ago mastered the means to link one point in space to another directly, meaning that such ships no longer served their original function, but rather, spent their entire lives in distant spaces.

The ship served mostly as a getaway – a cruise liner of the stars, for holidays (temporary) retirements, or simple residency – travelling to see some of the most spectacular sights in the galaxy.

It was called Telacna, meaning, in the ancient language of the necrontyr, Music of the Stars. But its inhabitants were not all necrontyr. That was a distinct ethnicity among the C’tan, accounting for a little less than a billion, in their various forms. The majority of the nation’s people were humans, though they were all substantially different in one way or another. The others were elves – more specifically Quendi – who had immigrated long ago from other realms. And of course, there were the eponymous C’tan themselves, and countless other minor races.

And then there were other nations – there were citizens of Menelmacar, Tsalinoth, United Indiastan, and a dozen others besides, represented among Telacna’s manifest; between them, Menelmacar and the C’tan made up a loose power block which, depending on where one drew the line between official protectorates, and unofficial subordinate states, governed something up to seventy billion people.

“We will be approaching Azeroth shortly,” a voice said, and Serrah opened her eyes, looking at the hovering disk-form of a speaker, poised at about waist height – so considerably above her, as she lay on her bath. “You asked to be informed.”

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up, “could you please speed me back to my room,” she added.

There was flash of green brightness, and she had been moved to the stateroom – with a magnificent view – located on the crescent-shaped leading edge of the ship.

She changed clothes, to something more traditional, dark green ‘leaves’ and skirt, elaborate feathered shoulders, staff, and other accoutrements. “Bridge, please,” she said, and she was transported to a high vaulted chamber that was entirely ceremonial. The ship itself was alive – the bridge was merely used for communications.

The tall woman who met her looked a little like she did, and she’d met her before. Arshaw Mîraglariel was a necrontyr – tall, humanoid, faintly elven, though her ears were more human than Serrah’s, slender leaf shapes, and her white was bone-white. Unlike her, the blue-tint of her skin came from blue copper rich blood, and her skin was an almost ashy-grey shade of blue. Her eyes were a black, shining colour, almost metallic.

They nodded briefly – the robe Arshaw wore consisted of a robe of shimmering gold. It was a traditional, formal style, worn with a variety of radiation-proofing; over the necrontyr’s early history as a people their homeworld’s star had become immensely radioactive – not that it had ever been a slouch in that department – and their clothes and dwellings reflected that. She turned, in a swirl of gold, and nodded to a terminal, resulting in the Telacna and its current, military escort, Melissalelta (meaning End of Flesh, the war-ships of the C’tan tended to have distinctly sinister names) a much smaller crescent-shaped ship, about a mile wide, jumping into the destination system.

Arshaw nodded, and the ship, appearing a few light-seconds from Azeroth below the plane of its solar system, relayed her image and speech – Darnassian, if a little different and strangely accented – to the planet ‘below.’

“Greetings, this is the Necrontyr ship Telacna; we received a book we believe to have been sent out by your people, and are looking forward to meeting you…” she said; the short message was transmitted with a number of intuitive image-protocols one or more of which might be playable for the locals.

Location: Temple of the Moon in Darnassus
Date: Elunista 14, 7342 Current Regulatory Era
Who: High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and Sentinel Theramira Whisperwind

Tyrande was in the middle of morning prayer, her legs folded below her, hands together with two fingers pointing up on each hand, and head lowered. She had sensed Theramira's entrance into the room and, though the elder Sentinel had long-ago earned her undying respect, had chosen to ignore it. She honestly doubted that anything which was so important that the woman would choose to come directly here would not still need her attention once she was through. So, she had not even paused in her prayers.

"Elune forgive me, Priestess, but I must beg an interruption," Theramira whispered, knowing Tyrande's sensitive ears would pick it up.

"That never bodes well, love." Tyranded whispered a quick prayer for forgiveness from the goddess before standing and turning. "Please, give your report while we head to my quarters so I may change."

"Of course, Priestess," Theramira answered, moving to follow as they walked down the halls. "Corrin Catfoot has called for the Sentinals to vote you out of office and replace you with someone more willing to cooperate with him. We have refused, of course."

"That unbearable ass," Tyrande snorted. "Is he still angry that we were willing to let his little pet druid try to find her own way out of trouble? Or is it more of his preaching about the space fleet and 'how we should look to nature and not the stars.'"

Theramira smiled at the mockery of the archdruid's usual speeches. "Neither, Priestess. He has called into question your suitability as a priestess, given your refusal to follow tradition and marry a druid."

"I never refused; he just kept offering druids who were not to my taste," the high priestess replied. "Please, continue."

"The Blood Elves are demanding more access to the Moon Wells. They are pointing to their increasing population and the amount of help they have given both our nation and to Eluneyasa."

"Help, if they bother to recall, that we had to blackmail them to get," Tyrande replied. "My answer to them has not changed."

Tyrande nodded as they passed two guards on their walk around the outside of the circular facility, nearing the quarters set up for the position of high priestess in centuries past. Tyrande herself had used them since taking office twenty-seven years ago, at which point she also took the traditional name of the high priestess. There were a number of times she did not regret not having to cross the bridge into the city proper to change clothes.

"I sense there is something else, of more importance, that you wish to tell me," Tyrande said as they reached the quarters, holding the door open in invitation for the Sentinel to come inside.

"Yes, there is," Theramira said as she stepped inside, her purple armor reflecting the glowlights as easily as the white silk dress Tyrande was beginning to strip out of. "Two minutes before I went to see you, a ship appeared in orbit and began to broadcast a message. The controllers in a flight tower have asked it to hold on while you are notified."

Tyrande paused, her eyes widening as she finished putting her hair up into a pony tail. She had yet to get dressed, so Theramira could see the competing muscle bunchings as the priestess struggled with rushing outside to respond immediately and dealing with the concern of getting dressed.

"Help me get dressed!" Tyrande exclaimed, hunting through her drawers for a dress more appropriate to this.

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To Telacna immediately upon it broadcasting:
This is primary flight control in Darnassus. Please hold on while we notify the proper authorities so that someone of sufficient authority and diplomatic status can be found.

Arshaw nodded, “Understood, thank you, Darnassus control,” she said, cutting the signal off, and sitting down in one of the command center’s chairs, which resembled some kind of lounger more than any kind of professional environment. Serrah sat next to her, casually crossing her legs. In the air before them, Talacna projected an image of the planet. The analysis that floated in mid-air, complex holograms, was quite specific. It showed many different and fascinating areas of the planet in full detail, everything from glaciers to wildernesses. There was an above average concentration of forests on the planet, and of the planet’s population living in surprising harmony with nature. Well, not surprising – unusual, but expected.

The whole process of probing the planet’s forested areas for the ruins of lost cities was quite brief. What mundane satellites could do in a days, this ship could do in seconds, optimized as it was for studying different planets and stellar phenomena, albeit it didn’t have equipment for penetrating shielded areas – it was a tourist vessel, after all.

They sat, watching the images appear, waiting for a response.


(OOC: Sorry for the brevity. I’m fairly busy until Thursday, haven’t had much time to post. Should be able to do a proper reply for you on Thursday and after though.)

Location: Boat from Teldrassil to Auberdine.
Who: High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, Sentinel Theramira Whisperwind.

Tyrande sighed as she leaned on the side of the boat. She had ended up getting dressed rather quickly, putting on a traditional diplomatic white silk robe, which was decorated with a number of silver charms depicting the moon. The back of the robe was a cape, which was decorated with a silver depiction of Elune. She also had on a small circlet, with the front having a quarter moon on it, that partially held her hair back away from her face. Also adorning Tyrande's back was the traditional moonglaive, with a bow in hand and a small quiver of arrows at her hip.

Standing beside Tyrande was Theramira, who was still clad the traditional, even if only really functional against small caliber guns, armor of the sentinels. The woman stood perfectly still, despite the rocking of the boat, and kept silent as her eyes scanned the waters. They held no fear of murloc attacks in this modern age, but murlocs were not the only dangers to call the waters home. And unlike Tyrande, for whom the weapons were intended to be ceremonial (despite the fact they were still fully capable of being used on the front lines), the bow and moonglaive issued to Theramira were intended to be used. Theramira also had a pistol, one of the many concessions made to the advancement of technology over the centuries.

All in all, it had only taken them ten minutes to get to the docks and grab the private boat, set aside for the use of the priestess whenever she needed to travel. The boat, one of the frigates, had not changed in design in the hundreds of years since the death of the first Tyrande. But not everything remained unchanged in the time since then.

Auberdine, as it became visible, had grown. The port had done well as a trading hub for sea vessels, growing far beyond what had originally been planned in the early days. The Night Elf access to wood, which was a neverending abundance thanks to the wisps, had fueled construction over the years. Many of the original buildings remained, with the Inn serving also as the administration building, but the town itself had grown into the hills around it, growing out to the road. Most of the newer buildings were made with trees incorporated, often with dwellings in multiple levels of the tree, with wooden walkways connecting the levels. Some digging into the ground had also happened with the newer areas, making them into a multi-level labyrinth of wood and dirt.

The docks had also grown, though many of them had fallen into disuse since the Eluneyasan Civil War and the population devastation it entailed. It was thus that the ship had no trouble picking a dock to stay at, with the pair on it debarking easily enough. They were met, as expected by an honor guard, made up of ten sentinels and ten archers. They were also met by a very large, and very curious, bear that had, moments ago, been leaning over the side of the dock and taking swipes at fish in the water. Four smaller bears, presumeably cubs, were playing along the stretch of bear underneath the docks, occasionally chasing a crab back out into the waves.

"I see some things never change," Tyrande remarked amusedly at the cubs' antics.

"We've had to keep a closer watch on this set than normal. They broke into the grain storage room last week and scattered a quarter of our stock around the city. We found one of them sleeping on four bags it had dragged into the middle of the street," one of the sentinels replied. "The mother's also kept a closer watch on them since then."

"Children will be children, no matter the species," Theremira muttered, also amused. "Come; let's see about getting the meeting room in the inn ready. I understand that a new shipment of Silvermoon cheese has come in. Did they take our suggestion about honey?"

"Oh, yes! This cheese is divine. The company in charge of it jokingly complained that they can't fill orders fast enough. They're talking about expanding the dairy farms in Westfall and have requested a number of druids to check the land for suitability and environmental effects."

Tyrande found herself grinning as the exchange in pleasantries continued, their walk along the wooden, and slightly uneven, dock toward the city. She joined in on occasion, especially when the topic turned to fabrics, and was quite pleased to find the cheese was, indeed, as good as stated.

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What the scans from the Talacna would discover is not just a few ruins, but an abundance of them. Northern Kalimdor was filled with ruins, most of them thousands of years old, of a past civilization. The ruins themselves comformed in several ways with construction styles seen among the more modern buildings, and quite a few of the ruins appeared to be in use. Many of these ruins were of stone buildings and structures, though the occasional wooden ruin could also be detected. Quite a few ruins were also underground or under water, and several caverns that led to large structures as well as several completely-sealed buildings were detectable.

Northern Ruinlands was almost entirely made up of ruined buildings, with only Quel'Thalas being without. No life signs were to be found outside of Quel'Thalas itself, with even the trees dead, and entire villages, towns, and cities could be detected in ruined states. The achitecture itself was human in base, with some elven mixed in near the Blood Elf nation, but all of it had been in a ruined state for centuries. Strangely enough, none of it appeared to have decayed in that time. Below the cities could be detected massive underground complexes, in the same state as the cities above and yet showing signs, in some cases, of having been added years after the structures they were below had been put into the current state. Shipyards could be detected, with ships in them, which had, in some cases, been constructed decades or centuries after the rest of the buildings and yet were in the same state.

Southern Ruinlands was in a much better state, with intact cities and a thriving civilization. Yet, detectable beneath the civilization were signs of a previous one, matching the architecture of Northern Ruinlands, that had come to an abrupt end a couple centuries in the past. Some of the buildings of the current civilization in place also dated back to around that period.

The most unusual set of ruins is on several islands near the Maelstrom. They match those in Kalimdor, yet also hold within them a power signature. Scans would also reveal a combined presense of each race upon these islands, as well as structures that match those in Northern Ruinlands but appear to have been built much more recently.

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To Talacna:
This is the primary flight control in Darnassus. If you wish to send a delegation to our surface, we have cleared a landing area at Auberdine International Airport. We are sending coordinates along with a suggested flight path. If your transport proves to be bigger than our airport parking areas, please instead utilize the docks for offloading passengers.

“Why aren’t we just teleporting down?” Serrah asked, “We know they seem to have some similar concept themselves.”

“First,” Arshaw said, smiling indulgently as they boarded the shimmering, silver, crescent-shaped landing craft, “because it would let them know we have that capacity; if they attack us, it’s better to be able to get out fast, and if they don’t know we can, we may have an advantage.” The shuttle’s ramp slid upwards, this was a civilian design, chosen because of the common use of the crescent-moon symbol between necrontyr and the night elves.

The ship passed out from the landing bay, its silvery interior changing to show the world ahead, and the ship’s miles long surface streaking by underneath.

“I see,” Serrah said, looking at the continents below, somehow familiar to her, “And second?”

“Simple enough,” the minister said, “they asked us to land, and it would be only polite to do as they wish.”

---

The seventeenth grand observation lounge was a huge room, about thirty feet high. Its couches were quite sizeable, but then, they had to be. Some of the species the ship carried were of far greater than human dimensions. Faradrim Corrangremrhuigobelfaralhind was one such being; at least, he could be. Currently, he was in his true form, consisting of something not unlike a traditional depiction of a dragon, forty feet in length, horned and scaled, a brown through beige coloration, his eyes watching the enhanced displays of the continents below.

He watched, with a woman leaning against his foreleg as though it were a pile of pillows, on the wide- padded area, the crescent shape, as it streaked down through the atmosphere. One of the holographic screens that dotted the lounge popping into existence near him, noting his interest, and showing it as it shot through the burning heat of re-entry.

He stretched his wings, imagining being in its place – when he had been in the armed forces, he’d done quite a few high-altitude drops, in the heavy armour his kind were given. That, however, had been centuries ago.

He flexed the muscles of his wings, causing the C’tani woman to bat irritably, and playfully, at his massive cheek, just above the massive row of dimetrodon-like teeth, which were reinforced with layers of advanced materials to make them more effective. “Stay still you,” she said, attempting to find the page she’d lost in the book she’d perched on the back of his hand.

The massive synapsid reptile chuckled, a noise like a small avalanche, “Be glad I don’t eat that. It’s worthless anyway…”

“Bah,” she said, derisively, “What do iâramluig know about poetry?”

“Proper poetry,” he said, with half-joking condescension, “involves moving” he said, his eyes looking back up at the landing craft.

---

The shuttle decelerated lazily as it headed for the landing area, four sleek footpads dropping from its underside nosily, the silvery shape coming to rest with a slight bounce, before its ramp slid down, the gold-clad necrontyr coming first.

From her skin tone, one would almost think her a breed of draenei, but the colour of her eyes and the lack of ‘demonic’ seeming features, such as their horns and tail, said otherwise. Her ears were a little shorter, but not dissimilar. Indeed, some necrontyr did grow horns, of a different type, their pre-climbing ancestors, billions of years ago, had been somewhat similar to terran deer in behavior at least, and still carried the genes for horns used in dominance battles. Some chose to have these dormant reactivated, providing stately, antler-like crowns, then inlaid with precious metals, or otherwise decorated, but this was quite uncommon.

With her, she carried a high staff, a ceremonial weapon perhaps, an elaborate, bladed head, beneath which part of it seemed insubstantial, a flickering, pulsing piece of jade, which seemed half physical, and half some kind of lightning.

But it was more likely that the attention of the reception party would be drawn to the night elf accompanying them, seven feet tall, (about four inches over Arshaw, who was also quite imposing by human standards) she was probably quite tall for a night elf female, even here.

Arshaw and Serrah both bowed, leaning on respective staves, and Arshaw spoke, “Thank you for allowing us to land in this lovely city,” she did find it so. Although her culture preferred buildings of metal, she was more than cosmopolitan enough to enjoy other tastes, “We are most happy to be here!” She was of course, speaking Serrah's Darnassian dialect; there were ways of translating, too, but this was a little extra effort, which rarely hurt.

Location: Auberdine International Airport
Who: Sentinel Theramira Whisperwind, Sentinel escort

As the shuttle had come in, escorts had flown to meet it. Curious young green dragons, not yet realizing there could be danger, could been seen on either side, peering at the craft. Within mere seconds they would be chased off by older, wiser dragons who knew it best to not play games with such things. Flocks of birds cleared the way before the craft, in some cases letting out annoyed tones at having their flight plans interrupted, while hippogryffs could be spotted in various games of airborn sport around Mount Hyjal. A couple of chimeras, mounted by rare sentinels with the skill to handle such creatures, flew to in front of the craft, acting as path clearers ahead of it as it continued its descent.

The airport itself turned out to be a bit of beach to the north which had been converted. The beach was used for landing, with the coastline a bit beyond used for a bit of additional space. The race piece of mechanical aircraft could be seen, parked up on the grass, though it appeared most used living creatures for flight. Surround the grass were trees, which stretched into the sky and into which had been built the various buildings of the airport itself. A number of aeries, for a variety of creatures, could been seen. A hippogryff could also be spotted, jealously guarding a clutch of eggs from the fairy dragons that seemed to be all over the airport. A number of night elves could be seen moving about, with two of them calmly guiding fairy dragons out of areas where the creatures would be causing trouble. A large amount of flowers could also been seen near the bottoms of the trees, with a night elf bent over near one patch.

"Welcome to Azeroth," Theramira, who had come up this direction with a small escort of two Sentinels and two Archers, said as soon as they stepped out.

Theramira could not help but find her eyes drawn to the night elf who stepped out of the transport. While the other, looking a bit like a draenei and who the Sentinel secretly suspected was a member of the strange human-like race that once existed on Draenor, was unusual to look at, the height and personal aura of power of the other was more of an attraction to the elf's eyes. She studied the woman while the other spoke, taking in details and mentally noting that the pair appeared to be quite comfortable with this.

"We are glad to welcome you here," Theramira said, bowing slightly. "May the light of Elune guide your feet."

Then, gesturing to an empty spot in the grass, the elf asked, "Could you please have your pilot park there? We have a number of dragonhawks from Silvermoon due in a few hours for a shipment of silks. They normally send those by ship, but weather around the Maelstrom is particularly difficult this time of year and they have an urgent order that needs filled."

Then, turning to the road, Theramira smiled. "I am Sentinel Theramira Whisperwind and I shall be your escort to Auberdine. Please forgive the necessity of walking, but it is how we typically travel. The goblins tried to sell us on some self-propelled wagon they designed, but it tended to explode too often and the idea never caught on. Plus, all nightsabers for riding are currently stabled; it's their mating season, so riding them is not the most intelligent of ideas. We had a druid who insisted that he had a spell for it and tried to prove it, but all that resulted was his mangled remains being found in Ashenvale and the nightsaber returning pregnant.

"Also, I have arranged for a couple of civilians to join us on the walk with refreshments. I know it is a little warm today, so I figured chilled drinks and enjoying the breezes as we walked would be helpful. The druids have assured me that today would be the perfect day for enjoying a nice breeze under the trees.

"Also, I would ask you not to stray too far from the path. Young hunters are currently loosed into the woods as part of their training in how to catch meat and, in the past, they've proven not to be too particularly discerning in what they shoot at the first time. We've had no deaths in centuries from this, but getting shot with an arrow is still not a pleasant experience. Once they've healed from shooting each other today, they'll pay a lot more attention at what they aim at in the future."

"Commander, don't forget..." one of the archers began.

"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me," Theramira said, before turning back to the alien visitors. "I will also ask that you refrain from any magic while here, beyond what is necessary. We do not yet know the details of what you use and do not want you accidentally tainting the local lands... or our local lands accidentally tainting you, for that matter. A couple of druids will meet us in Auberdine to determine if there is any contamination danger. I know this is a strange request, but it has a number of reasons behind it from experience over the past few millennia."

If Serrah could sense the Well of Eternity, the first thing she'd sense is that the power from it seemed subdued, almost like something was actively suppressing it. Much of the lightly around the airport was provided not by magical lanterns, as was usual for kaldorei design, but by lanterns with regular fire in them. Wisps, normally found in any major community, were also conspicuously absent from this place.

Upon disembarking from the shuttle, Serrah replied, stepping close to Theramira, “And may her light fall upon you,” she said, “and thank you…”

The sights of the airport phased neither visitor too much – while the necrontyr were extremely technological, Arshaw had experience with much more magic-dependant states, and Serrah found it all interesting, and quite comfortable. “Well, for me, it’s pleasantly cool,” Arshaw said, lightly touching Theramira’s hand by way of demonstration – her skin was pronouncedly warm to the touch; almost as though she’d just come from some fireside. Her robes were even warmer to the touch, heated from within, “But refreshments are always welcome!” With a casual gesture, she waved for the shuttle to park itself out of the way.

It was of course, completely automated; the cruise ship carried hundreds of thousands of various landing and sports craft stacked like cordwood in various hangars, for its passengers to explore a system at their leisure, though Talacna had yet to let anyone use any such craft here – hordes of tourists wasn’t a very good way to make contact with anyone.

Arshaw didn’t comment on the ‘accident’ Theramira mentioned, except to note down what relaying such a story said about this elf and her culture in general – Serrah, however, did react, rather more familiar with the giant cats.

“I suppose you should have an introduction, I’m Arshaw Mîraglariel, minister of the eternal necrontyr empire of the C’tan, and this is Lady Serrah Moonsilver, a leader of our Kaledori community…”

Serrah nodded, “Only a very small community, in comparison to you,” she said.

Both found the warning about young hunters a little alarming, though, Arshaw was unsure if it was a joke, while Serrah merely raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that,” Arshaw said, in answer to the warning about magic, “We understand entirely. I have no magical ability whatsoever, and I’m sure Serrah will take heed of your warning…”

Location: Auberdine International Airport
Who: Sentinel Theramira Whisperwind, Sentinel escort

Theramira nodded to the introductions. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. You will have to excuse me if I am not familiar with the C'Tan; I do not pay much attention to what our space program is up to. My concerns are usually centered more on what happens on the ground."

The woman smiled as she started to lead them down the path. Two attendants, younger elves who appeared to still be of schooling age, joined the group, carrying baskets full of fruit juices, cheeses, fruits, breads, and a few meats. The girls were dressed alike, in dresses patterned after leaves with purple flowers mixed in. They each offered their baskets for treats to be taken from, keeping quiet.

"I would be very interested in hearing about your community. We lost a few to other worlds during the last days of our fight against the Burning Legion. And it's unknown how many may have been scattered among the stars when the original Well of Eternity exploded," Theramira explained.

The sentinel could only smile at the touch, touching back. Her skin was slightly cooler, though the armor was warm from the general temperature. The elf herself was apparently quite comfortable in it, moving with an ease of one who'd worn armor for years.

The forest itself proved to have a rather constant breeze, with branches and grass swaying in the wind. The air itself carried the scent of flowers, ever-present throughout the Night Elf-controlled areas, and of musk. On occasion the rare shouting match could be heard from the forest, usually consisting of arguments over someone nearly getting hit with an arrow, though those quickly quieted down. Other noises to assault the ears was birdsong that seemed to almost always be present, the buzzing of insects as they flew by, the snoring of the occasional napping bear that lay beside the road, and even the calls of nightsabers that roamed freely through the lands. Owls and other birds of prey could also be seen, flying about on hunts or various duties that carried their attention.

The road itself proved to be a dirt path, well-worn over the centuries, lined with lanterns. On occasion a lantern would be decorated with tiny necklaces, each one having a tiny silver quarter moon on it. Theramira would pass by some with only the occasional glance, though she would stop near others and rub the occasional pendant, her eyes distant for a moment, before continuing on.

"Tell me a bit about your community?" Theramira asked.

Serrah reached up absently to tug on her dark blue hair, which hung to the middle of her calves, away from an ear, as she thought about home, and what the sentinel had to say. Possible, she thought, but she was old, very old, and didn’t remember any mention of such a thing. So, perhaps. Blinking with her glowing eyes for a moment, she smiled, wondering how best to describe her home for Theramira

“In short, there are some seventy thousand of us, predominantly forming small communities in the forests of Menelmacar, an old and powerful nation on the planet Earth, who’re very similar to us in some ways – we’re not the only forest-dwelling community, though one of the more reclusive ones. We also have a few scattered islands here and there, where we’ve more open settlements, that do most of our trade, but still, nothing like what you have here.

I don’t necessarily think we would be a lost colony,” Serrah said, “though I could be wrong, and it’s certainly possible, doubtless that’s a matter for historical analysis. We’ve encountered other races, too; the C’tan rescued several million elves similar to your Sin’Dorei from an undead plague, a few decades ago. They were on a distant world, also possibly one of your colonies, and they tend to be rather less reclusive than we are, but also less independent of other cultures.”

Serrah stopped talking for a moment to try some of the food offered by the young elves, nibbling appreciatively and smiling at them as she walked, “They operate without a Well of Eternity per se by using a number of smaller duplicates in places with correspondingly weaker power. They also use a few other tricks and trinkets,” she added, mindful of not saying too much, “though in some cases, they ignore such precautions,” she said thoughtfully.

Arshaw, meanwhile, paid more attention to the food, nibbling on pretty much everything; it seemed more exotic to her. Like almost all C’tani citizens, she had a suite of implants that monitored her bloodstream for poisons and toxins, filtering them at an astounding rate, so she could eat most everything organic without fear.

“I believe the ones who do so are mostly those who follow careers that harness that potential really do so,” Arshaw said, “such as those involved in the hunting of rogue magics… If you’re interested, I’m sure we can find some. There are, as far as I know, several hundred Quel'dorei on the Talacna right now, but other than Serrah, no other Keldorei.”

“Very reclusive,” Serrah said, with a smile.

“If I may ask,” Arshaw said, “those pendants, are they for some kind of communication?” She smiled, “And on a broader topic, could you tell me a little about your own peoples? I find that a first-hand account is always better than a book!”

Theramira almost came to a standstill at a name she had not heard in a very, very long time: Quel'dorei. Not even the high elves, as few as there had been, had referred to themselves by that name in the presense of their cousins. It was a name not used anywhere on Azeroth these days.

"It would be best if you do not use the name 'Quel'dorei' around any others. There's a long history behind the name and why it is not generally spoken of except in studies of history. It is also a topic on which I am not allowed to explain. It's also best not to question those who are; they tend to be short of temper, even with the young, when one investigates too much," the sentinel cautioned. "They tend to be those who were alive during the time when the reason why happened. The High Priestess may be willing to explain more."

Finally, turning, she answered the last question, "The pendants are in memory of the dead. Eluneyasa was in a civil war not that long ago; the land has healed and the cities are repaired, but our populations have not fully rebuilt themselves. These pendants serve as a reminder of the mistake that caused the war and the people who died needlessly over a simple mistranslation. Still, our population is rebuilding. It will just take a few years before we are at full strength and the world's cities are repopulated again."

She then paused a bit, considering the rest, before saying, "The main thing to know is that our society is a lot more divided than it once was. For most of our history, the Temple of the Moon was the center of our government, even when it was moved. Then, a few centuries ago, a druid named Staghelm tried to usurp power for himself. His attempts failed and he was severely punished. But the damage was already done, and even now Darnassus has two governments. The Temple of the Moon still controls most aspects of the nation, including the space program, so the druids do not have as much power as they wish.

"Otherwise... As you can see, we try to live in harmony with nature. We have spent millennia making sure our impacts on nature are as negated as possible. We have not been as totally successful as we wish, but we are still the most ecology-friendly of the peoples on our planet. Which makes it sort of ironic that Durotar has had the least ecological impact, despite their total disregard for the environment.

"Perhaps the most important thing to know is that we're all believers. Whether it be in the power of Elune or in the spirits of nature, we believe. We've seen ample proof of their existance. And we continue to find proof even now, even with the changes that have happened. And..."

Theremira paused, seeing they were now entering Auberdine. "And I am not really qualified to talk on it. The High Priestess can tell you more. I am just a military woman; much of our society is beyond my focus."

Auberdine itself was, from the very start, obviously a busy city. Groups of blood elves, draenei, orcs, and tauren could be seen scattered throughout the throngs of night elves. A group of murlocs could even be spotted, heading towards the docks while arguing constantly with their quite-annoyed sentinel guide.

Sentient beings were not the only ones moving around in the city. Deer, bears, nightsabers, cats, dogs, chickens, fairy dragons, large moths, dragonhawks, owls, and gophers were but a small portion of the creatures that could be seen moving around. Near one particularly tall tree stood a dryad, modesty provided only by the green hair that streamed down her chest, with hooves that stamped in excitement as she eagerly told an interested-looking pair of night elf women about a rabbit. Tree-like shapes, moving around in the shadows, could be spotted at the edges of the city. Meanwhile, anywhere one looked they could spot the glowing balls of green light that were the wisps, who were often circling trees or moving about the town on their mysterious errands.

"Welcome to Auberdine. Of our cities, this is actually the smallest; our communities in Ashenvale and Teldrassil are much larger," Theramira said, before motioning for the pair to follow. "You don't want to get lost. The guides have a habit of adjusting their prices upwards by how lost you look and not all of the paths lead where it appears they do."

Theramira had not commented on the part about lesser moonwells among the C'Tan elves, though she had looked interested before the part about the Quel'dorei had come up.

Serrah found it curious; in her experience, the ‘high elves’ had adopted the old term for highborn (as much as she found the phrase distasteful herself) as the name of their race. Clearly the dialectal difference here was quite pronounced in that respect, “I see. I will make sure that is passed on to others too, thank you for your advice,” she added.

Arshaw blushed, that was perhaps the most embarrassing mistake of her career.

She had not guessed, from their placement what they were, although the necrontyr had any number of traditional pendants and jewelry commemorating their dead. Their tradition had, for countless thousands of centuries, been to compress the mummified remains of their dead into diamonds, sapphires and other precious stones, imprinted in their atomic structure with the identity of whom they had been. The more advanced, and later ones, were imprinted with holographic journals, pictures and diaries. It was at the time, the most lasting form of any kind of preservation. But while the descendants at times wore such jewels, and the rest of the time they were kept in most secure vaults and tombs. The necrontyr had started wars over the looting of such places – even in the recent past – so much did they value these relics.

There was, to her mind, something incredibly understated about this; the necrontyr commemorated their dead on a grand scale. She had stood on ancient worlds under decaying suns, whose entire surfaces had been covered in vast monuments. They were barren worlds whose crater marked surfaces had been denuded and transmuted over centuries by the work of thousands to make breathable atmospheres, and incredible world-spanning pyramid-ranges of limestone and obsidian, by her ancestors.

Indeed, they had (to other races) an almost ghoulish respect for memorials of all kinds. Even the most hated and abominated enemies would be interred with respect on distant necrontyr outposts, preserved for all time. Disrespect of monuments was one of their most ancient taboos.

Even though the modern culture from which Arshaw came had few taboos, its respect for the dead was still very much intact, even though the religions to go with the funerary cults of her ancestors lived only in history books, even though she had said it without malice, she was still briefly speechless at the transgression.

She was glad that Theramira had kept talking; it allowed her to compose herself a little, “I am profoundly sorry for any offense I may have caused with my ignorance,” she said; sounding immensely contrite.

Forcing herself to relax, she had to briefly re-play what Theramira had said; she’d not actually been listening, taking a few long moments “Well, we have always tried to live in harmony with nature, to some degree,” she said. However, now she was speaking of the wider state she represented, and not just her own species, whose beliefs on such matters were quite different from most elves’ (and for that matter, the indifferent attitudes of stereotypical humans).

“Thank you for your insight, in any case,” Serrah said, taking over from the slightly taken-aback necrontyr quietly amused that she was meant to be the professional, “and may I complement you on the architecture of this city,” she said. As they walked, Serrah, along with her subdued companion, eyed the demon-like Draenei, the Tauren, and the few ‘fish-men’ Murlocs she saw with distinct curiosity, “we look forward to meeting its leaders,” she added, smiling.

On a whim, removing a silver bracelet with several large sapphires wound into its complex shape from her wrist – the work on it intricately decorated in strange, brushstroke lettering. She passed it to the nearest of the young night elves, who had been so diligently carrying a rather large fruit basket, “A gift,” she said, “or a payment,” she added.

Not to be outdone, and feeling a little contrite, Arshaw leaned on her staff, and removed an disk of bronze, elaborately inlaid with mother of pearl from one of her pockets, holding it by a long chain.

“It’s a timepiece,” she quickly explained, showing the other girl how it opened. “It automatically displays time according to the rotation of the planetary body it’s on, and with the best guess as to local time – you adjust it like so,” she frowned, all the features of the little device would take too long. She held it up before her face, accessing it by means of delicate electronics inside her mind, and adding a standard language package for Darnassian to the little machine. She then lightly touched its face, making a few lines of green Darnassian text appear in mid-air; the operating instructions, defining how to use it as a compass, route tracker, timer, and countless other things. “Not as unique as Serrah’s bracelet, I’m afraid,” she said; all the jewelry she wore was either greatly sentimental, or functional.

Theramira nodded. "It's... Like I said, it's a sore topic with us. With a lot of people, actually."

Then, Theramira smiled to the apology, obviously misunderstanding it. "Don't worry. You have committed no offense. I was just warning you to prevent you from bringing the name up again."

And then, Theramira nodded to Serrah. "You will meet one. The druid leader doesn't actually hold diplomatic power; in fact, he doesn't hold much power at all. He is just annoyingly efficient in being a pain in the side."

The sentinel paused, watching as the pair gave the gifts to the two children. She could only smile as their eyes went wide, the pair nodding, bowing in thanks, and then running off while chatting excitedly. The sentinel knew the pair would be the envy of their group for months and hoped they wouldn't abuse it.

"That was very generous of you both," Theramira said. "If I remember correctly, one of the pair is talking about becoming a priestess and the other a druid. I am certain they will incorporate those items into their outfits for their positions. It's not unusual among my people."

Then, as the woman turned to lead them on, she found she had to stop as a cat came over, rubbing itself against her legs and purring. Rolling her eyes and huffing out a laugh, Theramira reached down to scratch along the feline's back and giggling at how it arched before turning and butting her head with its hand. Then, with the cat acting as a forward guard, the woman started to lead the pair towards a ramp leading down into the older part of the city.

"The cats were imported from Quel'Thalas centuries ago. Despite being invaders to this land, they have integrated themselves quite well and can be found throughout much of our lands," Theramira explained as they descended. "And the cats are far from the only ones."

The inn itself proved, as the trio entered it, to be quite open along one wall, allowing a perfect view of the sea beyond and, along with it, the bear cubs that were currently playing upon the docks, chasing each other up and down them and nearly running over a pair of sentinels posted to keep watch on them several times. The mother bear, meanwhile, was enjoying a meal of a fish she had caught, all the while obviously watching her cubs at play.

The inn itself had the main room transformed, with seating around the bar moved away from it and a quick table dragged over. The table matched the general wooden pattern of the rest of the building, though it was also covered in charts and graphs. The floor was bare wood, with the occasional bear rug or other form of animal skin draped over it as carpetting. The occasional passerby could be seen glancing in curiously, though the sentinels posted at the doors kept them away for now. Meanwhile, standing near the table and talking with what was obviously a humanoid rabbit, was Tyrande.

"I understand your concern, and we shall deal with it shortly," the High Priestess said, patting the rabbit's arm. "I have a couple dozen young archers who need experience in a foreign land anyway, so this will do them some good. But, please, try not to overwork them with collecting eggs; I would never hear the end of it."

The rabbit laughed, saying, "Thank you, Priestess. We will enjoy having your people join our own in this endeavor. I shall now leave you to your other business.

"Sorry about that, but the duties of running both Eluneyasa and my own nation both often interrupt at inopportune times," Tyrande said, turning toward the alien visitors as the rabbit left. "It's been months since I've had time for a bath I could take time to enjoy.

"Anyway, we have two choices. We can stay up here, but we cannot expect to keep this building entirely to ourselves; people actually use this place. Or we can head into the tunnels below and use a room I had prepared there. Both offer their own advantages and disadvantages. I would offer the local hunter's hall, but it has a problem with stray cats wandering in and out of it all of the time. I'm sure you can figure out what a disruption they can be."

"Priestess!" an archer announced, rushing into the room. "I have a message from our outpost in Shattrath City."

Sighing, Tyrande asked, "Can it wait until this meeting is done? And how old is the message."

"It can, Priestess. I was told it must get to you and you only, no matter how much time it takes. And, it's only a half-hour old," the archer replied.

"A half hour? You made excellent speed in getting here. Please, rest and restore your energy. I will cover your food and drink while you wait," Tyrande ordered, before looking back to Serrah and Arshaw. "As I said, both have advantages and disadvantages. I can guarantee that the underground is stable and not without its own beauty, but it doesn't have the loveliness of an open view of the ocean."

Theramira could only smirk, knowing that Tyrande would pick the least important items on the list to bring up first.

The site of the meeting was quite puzzling; Arshaw didn’t meet people in what seemed to be a pub, but then, she reflected on the talk of a civil war. Even then, as the nations on this world had apparently been divided not long ago, even without a war, there might be issues over ownership of public buildings. So, she simply shrugged and accepted it.

The necrontyr woman instead looked around with curious interest, her shimmer-black eyes taking in everything around her. She was naturally capable of seeing a little way into the ultraviolet range of the spectrum, and with assistance, could perceive other kinds, but right now, she was merely looking around her unaided.

She found much to like about the place, and it certainly wasn’t what she would imagine as an inn, built on a whole other scale, far grander. More of a large hotel’s lobby She raised an eyebrow curiously at the rabbit-creature the high priestess was talking to, she didn’t recognize it from any of the briefing materials.

It wasn’t too surprising, however, in the experience of her people, the higher the amount of magic in a nation, the great the dimorphism. There were differences of course, depending on the style of magic used; the Menelmacari had many strange powers, but comparatively few intelligent species. This was obviously closer to the other end of the graph, however. She had wondered at the Wisps, though Serrah was quite familiar with them, she had never seen one before.

As she was asked about moving, she smiled, “Oh, this is fine,” she said after briefly reintroducing herself and her companion, looking up above her; perhaps the building was designed to accommodate different sizes of individual? You could probably get an iâramlug in here, he’d not even have difficulty getting through the doors. “Quite a bit grander than I was expecting, in truth,” she said.

She glanced up at the messenger who came in, making a note of the lack of ceremony with a degree of approval. There was a proverb in her home nation; Live informally, play formally – which was to some foreigners at least, quite strange.

Serrah looked expectantly at Arshaw, who smiled, “Of course, it is a most lovely view, and we’ve nothing to say that requires secrecy – indeed, the ship we arrived on is a public vessel,” she didn’t mention its distinctly military escort, “with peoples of half a dozen nations on board. We are quite open with most of our doings, unless you would prefer it otherwise. And we're quite fond of cats too.” she added with a playful smile, "It's amazing how many worlds have cats. A very successful species."

The place, indeed, was built big. The ceiling of the main room alone was higher than necessary, even given the size of some of the native species, and the staircase leading upwards was definitely bigger than necessary. It was only as a very large owl came flying through, stopping to dive and steal a piece of meat from behind the counter, that the reason for the extra height was revealed.

"Shall we have a seat?" Tyrande asked, ignoring the innkeeper chasing the bird around the room. "And, please, try to ignore some of the distractions. The daily chaos around here is part of life everywhere within Darnassus.

"I would have had you meet with us in our capital, but there's an issue with landing space... the tiny place we have for landing there is barely big enough for two or three of our animals and is positioned badly for expanding. The dock there is more expansive, but still not conducive to allowing a ship such as your's to land and badly positioned for dropping people off at. It was chosen centuries ago for defensiveness, when the threat of invasion from other powers on our world existed, and hasn't been changed because, well... Our capital city is positioned inside a giant tree. At least, I think it counts as inside... It's a strange arrangement.

"Oh, wait, my manners! I'm sorry, it's not often I have to introduce myself. These days, it seems everyone knows and you take that a bit for granted after awhile. I'm High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, leader of the Temple of the Moon and primary leader of Darnassus. I'm also, in essense, the leader of Eluneyasa as well. The other nations have some say, but in the end they look to me to make the important decisions."

By this point the innkeeper had recruited two of the sentinels from outside to help her with the owl. The trio could be seen running around the room, waving brooms in attempts to get the bird to drop the stolen meat. Theramira could be heard stiffling a giggle as she watched, though she did not move to help just yet.

"One of the questions I must admit I have is how you found our world. I know we've lost a few probes through the years as we've continued to explore, but I do not know of any that carried the coordinates of our homeworld," Tyrande continued.

"There's also Serah," Theramira said, ducking a broom as the owl flew by her. "She did send out those books..."

"I forgot about her," Tyrande replied, with the tone of her voice suggesting this may have been on purpose. "Yeah, I can see how the location of Azeroth would have gotten out. If you are here to collect restitution, we can direct you to her last known location."

The three pursuers of the owl finally gave up, leaning on the bar and panting, holding their brooms tiredly. The owl dropped the meat on the counter and landed, before a flash of smoke and feathers revealed him to have been a transformed male night elf. The other three, giving him a dark look, began to whack him with their brooms, chasing him from the building as their assault upon him continued. Laughter could be heard echoing from outside, while Theramira was giggling and Tyrande was obviously struggling to keep a straight face.

"As you can see, life doesn't stop here even for me," the high priestess said with a mirth-filled voice, her hand waving to indicate the events that just happened. "Anyway, would you like some refreshments? I think I can get the innkeeper to stop with her sweeping up of feathers and get us something to eat."

Arshaw sat, gathering her golden robes about her legs as she did so, casually laying a forearm on the table, drawing on it with her fingertip, a perfect circular pattern.

Serrah sat down next to her, smiling as she did so. Serrah nodded knowingly as the woman explained her clerical status,

At this point, she leaned back, watching the owl flying overhead pursued by a trio of night elves. It was extremely frivolous and silly. That said, it wasn’t entirely beyond the norm of her own people, or those they lived with – there had been one dining room on board Telacna that had, last she’d seen, been hijacked by a group of young men who had been holding some kind of contest involving using bread rolls for mock-athletic games.

“Indeed. Serah,” Serrah said with a little smile, “We received one of her books. Was there meant to have been some kind of damage mechanism attached to that?

“It was shot at one of our farming colonies’ greenhouse domes. Fortunately, not one of those that was actually home to anyone at the time.

“I can only imagine that the idea was for it to decelerate, with magic, or some kind of parachute module, perhaps?”

At this point, they were both distracted by the spectacle of the owl turning into a man. Both knew better than to gape, but it was still quite unusual. While several cultures they knew had people with such ability to change shape (indeed, several key leaders of the empire were most expect) neither had ever actually seen it used for practical jokes.

Serrah giggled outright, Arshaw merely gave a smile at it, and turned her attention back to the woman opposite. “Certainly we have no desire for restitution or retribution,” she said, guessing that it was actually normal for these books to hit at speed.

Meanwhile, Serrah quietly ordered something that seemed appropriate and traditional for both of them.

(OOC: Apologies about the lack of orders on the refreshments. Couldn’t think of anything specific. And about the general brevity of this post.)