The Coilfang
Needless to say, I felt on top of the world – so high up in my good fortune I was looking down at Teldrassil at my feet. I was slowly becoming a more established druid, confident in my newfound mending abilities, earning a stable wage working for the Cenarion Expedition, and with a female that would make envious most males. Things could only go for the better from this point on. I would make certain of it.
My Shan’do had allowed me a few days off to return to Darnassus and gather a few belongings before returning to Zangarmarsh. We were going to be guides to a small troupe of botanists from the Expedition into the coves of Coilfang, right under the marsh lakes, with no less than Qerrathien and another of her unit serving as escorts. The coves had already been emptied of the naga incursion for the most part, we didn’t expect them to return until they have gathered larger numbers – should they have ever decided it was worth to fight back for those caves – but we still took the precaution to ensure we had combatants and guides in case we ran into complications. I rummaged through my belongings with fervor, growing more frantic and nervous when the one thing I was looking for was not appearing. It had to be here, I knew it! I safekept it for so long I would’ve been damned to have lost it now in the bowels of my coffers! The item in question was a small pendant in the shape of a silver crescent moon with a teardrop diamond held up by the lower tip – gaudy and horribly out of style in this day and age – that once belonged to my mother. How did I acquire it? Years back I was in the market of Darnassus, just purchasing some fruits and meats, when I overheard some adventurers discuss about northern Ashenvale (now called Felwood, even then) and the deplorable condition it was in. I wasn’t moved at first, I knew full well the state of the forest and how it was considered incurable and outright dangerous. Some native elves still remained there, my mother included, and so long as I heard that the village was still standing I assumed she was standing as well. I never really did gather enough courage to return to my mother, or even send a missive to her. Wasn’t certain why; I missed her, but I had been independent from her for so long that it would seem conflictive to try and reconnect with her when I was certain she was so deep in the sorrow for the loss of her mate that I was secondary to her priority – maybe even already forgotten. It didn’t seem reasonable to burden her. But the adventurers’ words eventually did confirm that Felwood and all its townships had been lost to the corruption of fel magics. And I sighed deeply, returning the fruit I had absently picked up before and held in my hand with no intention of purchase. I returned home and saddled my saber, then took a boat from Ruther’an Village to Darkshore, and from Darkshore rode into Ashenvale – a trip that took almost a day by saddle – and eventually stepped into my old home territory. I was with my thoughts the entire time of the trip and I had come to terms with what had happened in Felwood and what that meant. My mother had kept her promise: She had waited for a man that would never return.
A couple of druids, both elven and tauren, that were establishing an outpost close to the border helped to guide me back to my home village by pointing it on the map. Long story short, I had found my mother and wrapped her in the sheets of a bed she probably hasn’t slept on in years (fel energies has unsightly consequences when in long exposure to the skin), hoisted her over the saddle and slowly made the long trek back through Ashenvale, Darkshore, the Village, and through Darnassus into Teldrassil where I buried her in Dolaanar and still remains to this day. From her I kept the pendant – the small jewel as beautiful as I remember her.
Eventually I found it and hurried back to Zangarmarsh, only waiting a day further before the entire troupe was ready and we ventured into the Coilfang. The venture itself was uneventful; there were hardly any true dangers other than the occasional bog’rok crustaceans protecting their newfound territories. The botanists could work with ease. The entire time I kept eyeing Qerrathien, strong and beautiful in her armor, and offered smiles whenever she looked my way. My hand kept resting atop of my shoulder bag, knowing the treasure it held within. The botanists, satisfied with their research for the day, were picking up their materials and collecting the last bits of samples, and I took the opportunity to lead Qerrathien with me under the false pretense that I wanted to explore a bit further. When I knew we were far enough from prying eyes I slowly took out a small bundle wrapped in a silk cloth and opened it in front of her, revealing the pendant within its folds. Even to this day I can’t remember the words I uttered to her, my mind racing with all the possibilities she could react to this present that my lips moved on their accord. But the response had been positive and accepted my proposal to have me as her mate. I was so blissful that I paid no attention to the detail that my Shan’do – ever aware that I’m usually up to no good – was at the far end of the inlet, barely visible over the curve of the wall that lead into the passage.
Qerrathien was my mate – in my mind, the first of many as I had an intention of establishing a pride as my father did – and even if the Legion were to sever the world in half at that point I would still be certain it would’ve been the best moment of my life.
Dolaanar
Our errands in Zangarmarsh had ended and my Shan’do and I returned to Darnassus for some well-deserved rest before we were sent out to our next errands by the Enclave. He and I remained in our barracks. I noticed that in those days he seemed more distant and reserved; his mind and attention worlds away with a blend of aloofness and slight sorrow. He moved in the usual manner and speed when he had to, but there was a sense of detachment – as if he were controlling his body from elsewhere, like those small tonk tanks from the Faire. I paid no true mind to it. He was old; it must’ve surely been some minor ailment in association with age. I was a mender druid, but even I couldn’t mend how time affected a body.
I was sitting by the foot of my bed, studying with a heavy tome at my lap while my Shan’do spent the umpteenth hour at his chair at the window. His voice was so unexpected that it startled me and I almost didn’t hear them – he had asked me about my name. I told him as I know; somehow confused he asked something he knew already. He continued asking me questions about my past, and it unnerved me. He had never showed any interest in me other than when I erred since he loved to enforce discipline. His prodding continued even to my mother and that was when I felt offended. It was hardly his concern. That was my mother, my past, and it had no relevance to my training. My Shan’do took no notice of my offense and even was audacious enough to ask to be taken to her burial place. I conceded on the request that if I were to do that he would be satisfied enough to never have to ask me again. So we saddled the sabers and took the ride to Dolaanar, up to her grave.
He approached the small mound, marked with a simple symbol, and remained at its side for so long that I didn’t even notice Qerrathien sneak up on us. She had seen us from her small outpost in Teldrassil and decided to check on us. Though I was happy to see her I was more concerned with the motives of my Shan’do, somehow convinced this was going to end up with me assaulting the old elf due to his impudence. To my surprise he closed his hand over his eyes and shuddered a soft sigh – crying so softly I couldn’t even recognize it as such at first. He turned around, overlooking me and offering his full attention to Qerrathien, speaking about that pendant and noticing how he thought of it beautiful when he saw her wear it in the Coilfang cove. With a chuckle he mentioned the detail that it was the only one ever made – a special commission. At first I was under the impression my Shan’do had once been a jewelcrafter and had been the one to craft the pendant, but his next words shattered my impression, my thoughts, and my world.
“The pendant is as beautiful as the woman who wears it, just as I had thought when I offered it to my mate.”
The pendant he gave to his mate. The pendant that my mother wore.
Gwylt Duskwhisper, my mentor and Shan’do, was my father.
Duskwhisper Requiem 