Warcraft: Darnassus
Year 25, Day 6
It was late by the time we finally made it to Darnassus. Our trip through the Emerald Dream was slightly shorter this time, but we traveled at a much more leisurely pace so it still took nearly two hours to travel from the dragon’s valley to the part of the Dream that corresponded to our destination on Azeroth. Though considering that our destination was on a whole different continent from Twilight Grove, it was still much, much faster, not to mention safer, than if we’d tried to travel by sea or air.
Along the way, Ysondre––who looked to be in somewhat higher spirits than she had been before––regaled us with the surprisingly short history of the city. For a race as long-lived as the Night Elves, it seemed strange that they had decided to make a settlement that was only a few years old their new capital, but perhaps that was simply my human sensibilities speaking. Or maybe I was just missing some important details––Ysondre was only scarcely familiar with the situation herself.
From what I could gather from Ysondre’s stories, it seemed as though the Night Elves had a very dispersed way of life, their population spread across a vast swath of territory. Thus, the capital city was more of a hub than a colossal population center. Not to say that there weren’t a lot of elves living in the city, but they were much more like my wizarding kin––spread out across all of England in small clusters and individual homes with a handful of major population centers––rather than the muggles with their incessant need to build enormous, filthy cities for themselves. Thus, since their previous hub had been destroyed in battle, a new one had been swiftly created and settled.
And in any case, though the city did not have very much history, that didn’t make its story any less interesting. Darnassus was apparently built in the crown of Azeroth’s youngest world tree, Teldrassil, which had been planted and grown to full size by druids over the course of a few measly weeks. The mere idea of such an undertaking was rather daunting, and spoke volumes about the capabilities of the night elves’ spellcasters.
I had been curious about how one built a city like that––I’d been imagining a plethora of bridges and perhaps even buildings built directly into the trunk of the tree––but the reality was honestly much more interesting. Apparently, when Teldrassil had been planted, there had already been some number of people living on the small island that had been chosen to house the young world tree, as well as a number of historically significant ruins and natural features.
Had the druids simply continued with their work, that would have all been buried under the tree’s rapidly expanding roots, something that was deemed acceptable but not desirable. Then, one of them had an ingenious idea. Since they were already planning to rapidly accelerate the tree’s growth, why not guide it further.
Instead of planting the tree on the surface, they’d done so deep underground. Then they'd directed its branches to grow outwork like roots, digging through stone, clay, and soil while the trunk remained all but nonexistent. Only once the branches had finished growing did they allow the tree to rise into the sky, carrying much of the landmass it had grown beneath up into the sky on its vast branches.
The end result was a patch of earth complete with a lake, rivers, hills, and all the ancient buildings of the island held high above the ocean, cradled in the branches of a tree several times larger than the island it had been grown on. Furthermore, it had accelerated the city’s development, as the elves didn’t even need to wait for Teldrassil to finish its growth before they could start building.
The other source of the city’s rapid construction were the elves themselves. They were very motivated and between their magics and their centuries of experience, they were able to construct the city at a truly tremendous pace. The entire race was far more united than wizards or muggles and with a common goal to work towards, they could achieve wonders.
Unlike our last two destinations, the city didn’t have a permanent portal into the Emerald Dream. It was simply too new. Fortunately, that wasn’t all that large a hurdle for someone of Ysondre’s age and capabilities, particularly since the city did have a large population of druids that could visit the Dream in their sleep and was built on top of a world tree. The impact of even a young world tree like Teldrassil could clearly be seen within the dream, giving Ysondre a clear location to aim for.
It took her several minutes of focus, but eventually Ysondre slashed her hand through the air, her fingers dancing with emerald green light. In its wake, the Dream seemed to tear and Ysondre dug her fingers into the gap and pulled it open until it formed a portal large enough for us to walk through single file.
We swiftly streamed through the newly created portal and then Ysondre herself passed through, pulling it closed behind her. There was some minor confusion––we’d apparently appeared in some sort of private grove that wasn’t open to outsiders––but our draconic guide dealt with that swiftly enough. As soon as everyone realized who exactly they were dealing with, Ysondre was able to settle the agitated-sounding druids with a few words.
When I’d realized that it was well into the night, I’d initially assumed that we were going to go find somewhere to stay and then explore Darnassus in the morning, but it turned out that wasn’t the case at all. The Night Elves were nocturnal by nature, and though many did sometimes work on a diurnal schedule for the sake of interacting with the other races of Azeroth, they greatly preferred to sleep through the days and the city only really came alive after the sun had set and the moon was shining overhead.
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In hindsight, that should have been rather obvious. They were called Night Elves after all, and worshiped a goddess of the moon, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind initially. Probably because most of the elves I’d met so far were either druids or, in the case of the ones I’d seen in Stormwind, lived in a human city.
It was rather amusing to realize that my extremely late night yesterday was coming in handy. It was late enough that usually I’d be starting to get ready for bed by now, but instead I was still wide awake and full of energy. My legs were a little sore from walking around so much these past few days, but other than that I was eager to begin exploring the city.
Our first destination was the Temple of the Moon, the center of the Night Elves’ spiritual life and their seat of government. The temple was an enormous and awe-inspiring sight. Built on top of a small lake, it consisted of four circular buildings with domed glass roofs surrounding a fifth, much larger building with an even bigger dome, all rising from the clear blue waters of the lake.
The entire building was made from enormous bricks of pale white stone and intricately decorated. Bridges of the same pale stone connected the buildings and led from the shore to the central structure.
Despite being only a few years old, the temple had a majestic, ancient air around it. Strategically placed vines grew along the outside of the building, the stone was smooth and rounded in places as though worn by centuries of exposure to the elements, and it vaguely reminded me of some of the ancient temples constructed by Greek and Roman wizards in centuries long past.
Ysondre led the way towards the temple, only for our group to be stopped at the entrance by a young-looking priestess dressed much like the ones I’d seen in Val'sharah who stepped into our path. She smiled at us politely, but I could see a hint of distaste behind her placid expression. “I’m sorry, but I am afraid that outsider visitors are not currently permitted within the Temple of the Moon. Only the goddess’s faithful may enter.”
Ysondre stared silently at the priestess. The priestess, like most night elves, was tall, towering several inches over me and my summons. Ysondre however was even taller than she was, and my draconic guide did not look pleased by this interruption. She bared her teeth, and the air around us shivered with the weight of her gaze.
“Little Tyrande is expecting me,” she growled.
The priestess held her ground, bristling in indignation. “Take care in how you speak of the high priestess!” she declared imperiously. She wrinkled her nose, “Your kind is not welcome among the Kaldorei.”
Ysondre blinked slowly, then looked down at herself––an odd-looking action with how she was still wearing her blindfold, not that it seemed to obstruct her sight in any way. Then she snorted. “Little one, I was ancient when your kind first looked up at the moon in wonder, and have worn this form since before the world was sundered. I will not change to please your puny sensibilities.”
The priestess didn’t seem to know what to say to that, floundering briefly in confusion. Eventually, Ysondre took pity on the elf. She snorted dismissively and I could imagine her rolling her eyes. “Go, fetch someone with sense. We shall wait here.”
The priestess fled and Ysondre turned around, rubbing her forehead. “Sometimes it feels as though my kind spends too long Dreaming and not enough time in the waking world. I’d all but forgotten about this whole nonsense.”
“Oh?” I asked curiously.
Ysondre waved her hand dismissively. “Once, long ago, the Kaldorei were unparalleled masters of the arcane. Their obsession called the Legion to Azeroth, and, though they were repelled at great cost, the Night Elves have since disdained and shunned its use. Only the Quel'dorei continued to practice those magics, and in time their skin turned as pale as my own. I thought myself clever when I chose this form. I looked like the elves, and yet stood out amongst them.” She sighed heavily. “And now it causes me no end of trouble.”
“Huh.” That was certainly quite a story. Even knowing just how old Ysondre was, it was still sometimes hard to wrap my head around what exactly that meant. She was so old that there had only been the one type of elf when she’d first decided to shapeshift into one, and since then new elves that resembled her at-the-time unique form had arisen. I doubted that it had been a fast process.
“Indeed. It is…irritating, but less so than the effort required to acclimate myself to a new, permanent form. The first transformation is easy for my kind, but changes to it are troublesome.”
A few minutes later, a pair of priestesses followed by an enormous striped cat with two huge fangs extending from its upper jaw emerged from the temple; the one we’d spoken with earlier and a second dressed in a slightly more elaborate white robe.
The second priestess regarded our group coolly. “My junior sister tells me you have been causing trouble outside the Temple. Visitors are welcome in Darnassus, but we ask that they compose themselves with good manners and courtesy while they dwell among us. Kindly leave the Temple grounds, or I will be forced to call the sentinels to remove you.” As though to punctuate her words, the cat behind her stretched languidly, showing off its razor-sharp teeth and claws.
Ysondre rubbed her face. “I am Ysondre. Tyrande is expecting me.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “The High Priestess is otherwise occupied, and I doubt she’d want to meet with riff raff like yourselves. This is your final warning. Remove yourself or I will––”
She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence. Magic flared and I hurriedly took several steps backward as Ysondre’s body expanded. To avoid crushing us and potentially destroying the bridge, her body appeared within the lake, water spraying all around us as she grew to her full size.
Ysondre leaned forward, her huge green head almost butting against the priestess’s chest. “I am Ysondre,” she growled, “Your High Priestess is expecting me.”
The situation didn’t last much longer after that, and I had a feeling that the poor junior priestess was in for a rather unpleasant few months.