As she rode upon the Hippogryph, Zarahi was lost in her thoughts. A short time ago she was fighting the battle against the Iron Horde. She was a lower level commander but her execution and tactics had been helpful on more than one occasion. Suddenly she was summoned by Hamuul Runetotem and Malfurion Stormrage to create a portal. Then told she was the one going through it. Now she was the one seeking out an ancient weapon? It was almost too much even for her. Surely there would have been another Druid more suited. But while the confusion stemmed within her, she would never say no. Zarahi would always do what she thought was right. If those around her deemed it so, then she would follow.
Landing at the Shrine of Ashamane, Zarahi overheard a discussion between two Night Elves. One was clearly not pleased with the other and walked away. The remaining figure tended to an individual at his feet who was wounded. It wasn’t often Zarahi channeled nature for a spell, but she did so this time without inclination. The person on the ground began to ease and the Night Elf thanked her.
“No tanks be needin” she said. “But if you can help me find Delandros, dat be good enough.”
She was surprised to find out that’s exactly who she was standing before. Zarahi handed over the signet. Delandros Shimmermoon accepted the blessing, and while he wanted to help he had more pressing matters to attend to. He pointed up to a Legion ship and explained they’ve been attacked more frequently with each passing day. Ashen were being captured. The Night Elf also feared his most trusted members may have fallen in the conflict. To make matters worse, they each carried Tel’andu seeds. When Zahari was clearly puzzled, he explained to the Troll the seeds were needed for a renewal ritual. The magic ward that protects the Fangs was fading, weakening over time.
Zarahi look around the land and then turned to the Night Elf. “If ya be knowin’ where dey headed, I be happy to go hunting.”
Delandros sighed. “Your assistance in the effort is most appreciated. The forests to the north were the last time they were spotted. But that was some time ago. If our worst fears are true, please see if you can at least recover the seeds.
Zarahi nodded and made a few preparations before heading out. Several miles from the village she discovered the significance of the situation. Legion demons were roaming the forest. Fortunately, they were not concentrated in what looked like patrols. She snuck up on the first one with ease and almost took joy in spilling Fel blood. The feeling faded quickly as she found a body nearby. Not far from his outstretched hand was a pouch. Zarahi had the blessing of the Loa. One pack of seeds had been found, and quickly.
Bounding through the forest, Zarahi searched. Each demon she passed fell like the one before it. These were clearly only initiates and nothing actually powerful. But they were still enough in numbers and strength to catch the Ashen off-guard. The screams of a Night Elf sent her in a western dash. She came upon a burning tree hut, and a man was being choked by shadow magic spewing from a demon.
“I will never surrender them! The Fangs of Ashamane will be protected, and these seeds will be with me until my dying breath!” The Night Elf kicked and struggled to break free. The demon grinned. “Very well.”
Zahari pounced, raking her claws into the shoulders of the creature. He fell to the ground, caught off guard, and it wasn’t long before her thrashing and raking cat form had left it motionless. When she turned to the Night Elf though, it was too late. With a heavy heart she sniffed out the seeds and put them with the others that she had found. That meant only one more pouch to find.
Zarahi prowled the Mistvale for the next several hours. All she found was more and more demons. And more dead Ashen Druids. But the last of the seeds was nowhere to be found. She feared her search would end without success. Zarahi sat, resting a moment after what had been a long day already. She closed her eyes and listened to the forest. Her feral temperament faded again, and the breeze flowed west. Looking, she saw another tree hut and made her way over. The door was ajar slightly, and inside was a Night Elf.
“Can I help you?”
Zarahi was surprised to find him sitting in his hut amidst all the chaos outside. “I be lookin’ for someone. Da door was open so I-”
“So you just thought you’d walk in and go through my things?”
Zarahi tried to apologize. |Dat not be it at all. With demons all around, I be just tryin’ ta find dem. Thought maybe dey was dead in here.”
Again the Night Elf snapped at her. “Well, as you can see I am clearly not. Will you be leaving then?” He looked back towards the door.
Zarahi was becoming annoyed. Demons everywhere and here this elf sat not only with his door open to trouble, but more rude than a Blackrock Orc in the process. She shrugged him off and then turned out the door, cursing. She took a few steps before turning into her cat form once more. She was ready to bound off when something stopped her. Something in the air. She sniffed and recognized the scent. It was in the blood she had spilled most of the day. And it was coming from the elf.
Zarahi did something she rarely ever did. Shifting into her bear form, she charged the door and slammed it open with her momentum. It broke apart and as the elf jumped to his feet, she leapt and went cat form for the speed and agility. She barely missed him, landing on a table that flipped over as she caught herself.
The Night Elf grinned. “I didn’t think two druids would be that dumb. But I will take pleasure in spilling your blood.” In that moment the Night Elf was gone, an Eredar in its place.
Zarahi bared her fangs. “Many bettah dan you have tried. But here I be.”
In an instance she was shackled with pain. She had felt dark magic enough to know it well. She recoiled in pain, but the spell seemed to stop. She knew it would be a moment before the next one. In the instance she shifted to bat and flew at the demon. In the close quarters she had no room to maneuver, just slamming into him with her wings and clawing at his face. The demon screamed and swung hard at her, knocking Zarahi away. She hit the wall hard and reverted to her natural Troll form.
The Eradar’s eyes widened. “A Troll?” He spat. “I will not only spill your blood, I will drink it as well!” He stepped slowly toward her, receiving nothing more than a scowl in return. “You are not worth the magic. I will take more pleasure in destroying you with my bare hands!” He reached down to grab her by the throat, and she used the moment to strike. Turning her head sharply she drove her tusks into his arm. One pierced it, and she painfully shifted back into a bear. Now she had the creature by the arm, in her mouth. With what strength she had, she charged hard and used him as a ram against the wall. Normally it might have been enough, but Zarahi had taken her share in this fight. She did the only thing she could think of. Calling down Moonfire they both screamed in agony. But eventually the demon stopped moving. Zarahi fell back against the floor in pain. She stared at the dead Eredar, swearing as she ate some healing leaves. They wouldn’t make her better but at least the burning pain would ease.
Once able to slowly move around once more, Zarahi looked around. The hut was like pretty much any other. A room with a bed, a window and a table. And now a great pool of demon blood on the floor and carpet. The rug had shifted in the quarrel, sliding several feet and taking some of the dirt with it. Enough that she could see something sticking out of the dirt. Barely, but it was there. She pulled herself over and dug out around it. A pouch, just like the other two. She now had all three. Wincing, she ate another small bit of leaves and got to her feet. She looked down at the demon once more before painfully shifting back into a bat and flying off.