It had been a week or so since the Crossdeep Clan had left Stormwind Port for Kalimdor. Not more than a day or two had passed after settling down in Darnassus before they heard that Auberdine (and much of Darkshore) had been ransacked by Deathwing. It took some doing to convince Rii-nee (and Tuan!) to stay in Darnassus with Terrothanes, Eli, and Theluin, but in the end, Rii-nee only allowed her brother to go if he took a companion with him. Aaron volunteered, wishing to learn more about the lands and the people that took in his kinsmen, and perhaps to help shed more light onto the strange case of the clan’s missing patriarch: Archdruid Pterneldan Crossdeep.
~||~
Saphrit and Aaron dismounted their Hippogryphs at Lor’danel, slowly taking in the reality they had stepped into. Survivors were still trickling in, battered and worn from fleeing up the coast through a gauntlet of enraged water elementals … and judging from the number of bodies being dragged into the outpost, some of the refugees didn’t even survive the trip north. Worried and wounded civilians packed Lor’danel’s inn, many wringing their hands or praying to the point of tears as they waited for word from missing or injured relatives, and there was heard the occasional cry of grief when bad news was delivered.
Saphrit looked around, recognizing faces among the displaced citizens, and gradually learning more of the fate of one of his An’da’s most frequent ports of call. The young dragon paladin practically grew up walking and flying along the long dock and into town. Auberdine, during the time he spent wandering the world with his adopted father, was as close to a home as he could imagine, and one of the few places that openly accepted him in spite of his draconic heritage. To hear that people that he had come to accept as extended family had perished in the wake of Deathwing’s ‘triumphant’ return – it was safe to say that it was hard for Saphrit to process, especially given his tender age. He could remember walking the beaches and documenting anomalies with Gwynneth Bly’leggonde, or learning more of Kaldorei culture from Thundris Windweaver, all while waiting for his adoptive father to finish re-provisioning for their next port-of-call or running errands for the locals. Now, people he grew up knowing as mentors and friends we gone, killed in the wake of the cataclysm his An’da had seen coming years before.
For Aaron, the grief here was more palpable than the grief shared by all Gilneans. From what he understood, these were a people that had shared life together as friends for thousands of years, and to have it all torn away in a terrifying instant was something Aaron knew he would never be able to fathom. Yes, Aaron knew that his past was tragic, but the tragedy here on these dark shores dwarfed all of the drama that was his own.
Hearing tale after tale of harrowing escapes and terrible loss, Saphrit and Aaron eventually found themselves standing at the bedside of Volcor, the hunter-master of Auberdine, just as he was breathing his last. The night elf was whispering desperately in asking where his companion, the great white Thistlebear Grimclaw, was. As if on cue, a frantic roar was heard at the outskirts of the outpost and a massive ball of muscle and white fur barreled into the inn and right to Volcor’s side. Tenderly, the old bear buried his velvety-white muzzle under Volcor's hand and whimpered like a worried dog. The hunter-master smiled as he saw his dearest friend one last time, and then he passed on from this life to the next.
Another adventurer followed the bear into the inn, just as Volcor drew his final breath. While the young adventurer was upset that Volcor had still died from his wounds, there was some solace in knowing Volcor died happy. Saphrit offered to perform Volcor’s last rites for the young adventurer and for the priestesses caring for the ailing survivors, as he had watched Volcor teach Rii-nee how to hunt and how to make and keep animal companion. The young paladin was not looking forward to telling Rii-nee the sad news that her mentor had perished.
The young adventurer thanked Saphrit and Aaron for being an example in expressing kindness, and left the inn with a few silver coins as reward for finding Grimclaw. Saphrit and Aaron, on the other hand, were left at a loss as to what they were to do next. They sat in the outpost’s makeshift tavern, considering their options and the gravity of what they had been witness to: Saphrit knew that Volcor had been a trusted friend of Archdruid Crosseep, and they had been counting on the hunter-master to pull though and lend them help in finding and confirming the whereabouts of the old wolf druid, but with his passing came a greater setback – where to turn to now?
… right then, one of the Sentinels of Lor’danel approached Saphrit.
“Master Crossdeep?” she asked. Only a former resident of Auberdine would have addressed Saphrit with that title. Most any other Night Elf would have referred to him as ‘the old wolf’s son’ or as ‘human’ in an effort to aggravate him.
Saphrit looked up at the sentinel with eyes still steeped in thought. “Yes?” he asked, his voice distant.
“I was to inform you that there is a small camp outside of the Ruins of Auberdine that has requested aid, Master Crossdeep,” the sentinel reported, trying to remain sober, but the hope was very clear in the timbre of her voice. “The Rangers of Lor’danel have asked me to find if anyone were willing to volunteer on Lor’danel's behalf.”
Saphrit blinked, becoming lucid again upon hearing the request. He paused before answering, leaving Aaron and the Sentinel to wait for a definitive say.
It didn’t take long. Saphrit nodded, and the sentinel smiled, both in relief and in quiet joy. “Thank you, young Master,” she spoke with a slight curtsey. “I will send word to the Rangers straight away. There should be Nightsaber transports waiting for you at the post’s southern bridge once you're ready to go.”
Saphrit gave the sentinel an assuring grin, a silent thank-you, and sent her on her way.
Aaron adjusted his hat after the sentinel left, and sat back. “Well, Master Saphrit. It seems charity must be getting in the way of the reason why we came here.”
The dragon paladin just gave his companion a sideways glance and turned his glass of moonberry juice in his hands. “Charity is just part of it, Aaron,” Saphrit spoke, lifting the glass for a sip. “I’m not wishing for our presence here to go to waste, either. Heading down to lend aid may just open up a few more doors for us.” He drained the glass and reached for his coin purse. “Think of this development as a lead, Aaron.”
Aaron nodded in understanding. “You practically grew up there, as you have so candidly told me at Volcor’s bedside. So, I am assuming, that it would make sense that if there are any clues to be found regarding your father’s location, it would be in Auberdine.”
“Exactly.” Saphrit left a few gold coins on the inn’s counter, put away his coinpurse, and stood up from his chair. “I’ll need to gear up and start getting our supplies. I suggest you do the same, friend.”
Aaron only responded by toasting his wineglass in Saphrit’s direction. “Of course. Cheers.”
((This post was originally written by TheKittyLizard))
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