Returning to the Field of Battle

[Annalira Delshannon]

(( This thread originally contained a *ton* of screenshots, but my webspace was too full to keep them up any longer. If you want to see them, let me know ))

Winterspring, Week of the Full Cold Moon

Two green eyes.

Rolling over onto my back in the hammock, Arsaelan flops his great furry head on my chest, peering at me with his great green eyes. I stretch, sitting up and scratching his ears. On the rope perch above my head Taleh ruffles his feathers and hoots softly. Apparently, it is time to get up.

Feeding the beast and the bird, I get some hot oatmeal and a mug of tea from the innkeeper. Everlook isn’t the most hospitable place, but at least the Goblins are willing to feed you for an appropriate price. The communicator at my belt crackles softly, and the voice of an old friend comes through. He and I have not gone off rampaging on adventures as much as we used to, but today… well today will be different.

Many years have passed since the battle at Hyjal, years that I, like many of my kind, have used to move on – not looking back to the past but moving forward and forging our own futures. I remember a little of the battle, the first days of the fight only. I did not see the destruction or hear the splintering as Nordrassil consumed the body of Archimonde. A shattered shoulder and broken ribs sent me off soon after the battle began – I heard of the destruction later, from the haven in Moonglade.

Today, however, Mammond tells me that I can return there, that he knows the way – that I can see the mountain, even what is left of the World Tree. Strangely, I find that I both want to go back and see it and want to tell the young warrior that there is a blizzard and we will go some other time. But sometimes you know you should do something, even if part of you is frightened.

And so we set out to the south, Mammond and I, early that morning. Taleh perches on my shoulder, ruffling his wings and enjoying the ride; Arsaelan pacing along side my Stormsaber, his ears twitching and enjoying the run.

[Angoleth Isera'Duna]

The run through Darkwhisper Gorge is… treacherous. We hide all our armor, fearing discovery, switching into grey cloaks and brown leathers, hoping to blend into the landscape and avoid detection by the demonic vibrations there. The taint of Archimonde has come to this place, and the danger is very real, but we manage, and scale the steep cliffs on the mountain side – far to the south and west now.

Mammond has been here before, and he is patient with me as I coax Thanil’dar up over some of the steeper slopes. The great Stormsaber trusts me, but not always his footing.

I can just make out the tops of the trees before we begin our descent – and my breath leaves me for a moment as I greet the ancient beauty that has managed to survive here.





The craggy mountain pines scent the air lightly while off in the distance an eagle cries – shrill, on the wind. The breeze plays with my hair, whipping strands of it out and above my head. And we press on, down the path that leads toward Nordrassil.

Slowly, though, the air grows thick, and then ashen. The sky above me takes a deep hue of amber, and we approach the destruction of the first line of defenses. The edges of the valley have regrown – trees are there, and ferns – but the center of destruction is still barren and waste. Green ooze bubbles where water ought to have been.



This was the town where I was stationed – this… emptiness. The preparations we made here were no match for what was coming. The demonic force ripped through our defenses like they were made of twigs. It was here that I was wounded, that I lost a wolf and part of my being. I wonder if I will hear again the howl that has haunted my dreams, as Ramnil is crushed under the onslaught, unable to reach me before I fall.



The path winds through the remains of buildings, but there is not much here that is recognizable except for the torn hinges of a set of gates leading out of this valley.



From the looks of things, the forces of the invasion did not take much effort in ripping through them and continuing upward.

[Angoleth Isera'Duna]

On the other side of the gates, I am greeted with the breathtaking trees once again. The corruption here did not take hold except where the fighting was fiercest it seems. Many souls, perhaps, still living in unrest in the ground.



I am astounded at the foliage here as well – little ferns, usually delicate plants, litter the landscape and flourish.



The path here is winding and steep. Mammond’s horse is surefooted and knows the way, and Thanil’dar and I follow close behind. The warrior looks at me sadly, pointing off the edge of the cliff to the valley below.



We climb down to get a better look at the cave – reminiscent of the hellish entrance to the Lair of the Black Dragon Onyxia. The way is blocked with great teeth of stone but the portal inside suggests that something must live there. I fear that it is another terrible dragon.



As we return to the path, Mammond tells me that the next destroyed village is ahead. I never saw this village in the days of the battle, but I know that there was a thriving trade there in between the lower and upper cities – a waypoint if you will.



The destruction here doesn’t seem to be as… vicious, though it is complete enough. Some of the buildings have survived, but there is little or no regrowth in this area.



As we press onwards, I am greeted with perhaps the most breathtaking view so far – an ancient waterfall passes under the path and falls down to a lake below. The water is crystalline, though the waterfall does not flow anymore – long ago this was but one point on a great river that flowed down and was a center of trade, complete with a full canal system. The destruction above must be terrible, to have stopped the flow of this river.

[Angoleth Isera'Duna]

We wind our way up the path, over the bridge where the waterfall has left traces in the rock, and up over the next hill. Immediately the air is filled with choking ash again.

www.amar-prestar.org/images/wowstuff/hyjal16.jpg

((this is a panoramic, so I'm linking it so it doesn't make the screen all wonky))

[Angoleth Isera'Duna]

I have to wait a few moments here. The weight of death in this place is so strong, as I sit on the ashy dirt – nothing has survived, only emptiness and the wind on the walls of the crater.



Mammond waits for me, as I wrestle with myself. He says that we must press on, that what is ahead is worth the ride, that I must not fall prey to the echoes of the past. Arsaelan comes and places his head in my lap. Scratching his ears, I begin to feel the warmth and strength of the great cat in my hands and I find that I can continue.

At first, I see nothing but destruction, and then over the tips of the hills…



But nothing can have prepared me for the view from the little gate as we walk into the valley of the World Tree.



There, at eye level, is the destroyer himself – or what is left of him. Half of a great skeleton hangs, macabre, from the roots of Nordrassil. The great plates of armor have wedged the remains of Archimonde there, nearly at eye level from the path, a constant reminder of the invasion and the sacrifice of the Elves.

Mammond and I ride down the edge of the valley, following the ancient path that has led us here to what used to be the center of the world. Life is here, and trees. Eagles call to one another in the crisp mountain air. But Nordrassil is nothing but a great tree now – the vibrant life of the Elves is gone, and with it the immortality that we held for so long.





Slowly, I convince myself to creep up under the roots of the great tree. Mammond is there, his horse drinking from the clear spring that has welled up underneath. Even with the horrid skeleton there, the water is pure and very cold. Looking up, the view to the branches is blocked by the suspended ribcage of the ancient demon.







The road ends here, where there are no towns, no villages, no thriving vibrant center of life. A stark reminder of the world that is now passed out of existence – a way of life that the tainted Teldrassil cannot capture.



Sitting there in the grass, watching as Taleh swoops and darts, looking for a rabbit or a squirrel, I realize how fortunate I am. Rarely now do I even remember the pain in my shoulder, the haggard breaths on the caravan out of these mountains and down to the healers in Moonglade. My shoulder is functional except under the greatest toil, though the scars will never go away. Arsaelan lays next to me in the sun, purring – a true companion. I have three now, the lion Arsaelan; the wolf Elyas; and Rinna, silly bat that she is. They hold parts of my spirit as Ramnil did in ages past, though I have never had a companion torn from me as he was.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up into the face of my friend. Mammond smiles sadly down at me, squeezing my shoulder.

“Come An – we must go. Dwelling in the past will only make the present more difficult.”

And so we ride off, back towards Everlook. The day is darkening quickly, though sleep will be long to come this night.