The Druid Drogan Uddersbane waited for a very long
time, until the sun had begun to rise again in the east and the cold,
dry night of the Shimmering Flats ended. The party had long died down,
leaving a rough litter of gnawed bones, empty bottles, the occasional
abandoned tabard, and footprints in the sand.
He sighed.
The Sharpened Quill was no more. Rifled with internal conflicts it
had finally pulled apart, it's seekers, guardians, captains and more
drifting away. It was a great shame. Many had not wanted it, but the
end had come. The path had been walked, and now nothing was left but
footprints.
Perhaps they would meet again. But he doubted that. His own path,
he knew, lay back to Hyjal Summit, the wild green groves that had
called to him since childhood now dangerously overrun with demons.
Others would return to the red Outlands, plague-wracked Lordaeron, the
steamy southern jungles.... or the cold, dark underworlds of which he
had heard whispered. It was, he considered, a necessity. As the kodo
may, by chance, encounter a panther, a hyena, and an Ashenvale bear in
peace at a watering hole, all such alliances were, by nature,
transitory. As the Earth Mother heaved her children danced and
fluttered, leaves in a red Kalimdor autumn.
Soon the sun would reach it's apex, and with it the heat of the
day, near death for any living creature in this vast bowl of sand and
mirrors. He knew it was time to leave.
He shook the sand from his huge frame as he stood, stretched, and
looked out at the tips of bluffs just visible in the horizon. In the
pre-dawn light a variety of small animals emerged from their burrows to
forage. Light on his hooves so as not to disturb them, he made his way
through the remains of the party and picked up each discarded tabard,
one by one.
With that done, he carefully packed his knapsack, and began to walk north.
Subject: The Parting of Ways 
Mon 10 Mar 2008, 00:10
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