Warcraft: Darnassus
Year 25, Day 7
A single glistening tear gathered at the corner of Tyrande’s eye and trailed slowly down her cheek, leaving a wet trail along her pale purple skin. “Oh poor Velinde,” she whispered softly. “I had hoped you had good reason for your disappearance, and these are not the tidings I had hoped for.”
She reached down and carefully lifted the scythe, twirling it expertly in one hand before laying it back down on the table in front of her. I had reflexively reached for my wand in case something happened, but it seemed that Tyrande had everything well in order. The dark-green magic of the scythe reached for her as she touched it and was brushed aside by a gentle streak of moonlight.
Tyrande looked up, a sad, almost wistful expression on her face. “Last I heard, this artifact was in the hands of Velinde Starsong, one of my priestesses and an experienced sentinel as well. I fear the worst has befallen her.” She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “Another sister lost to us, and for what.”
“We didn’t come across any night elf bodies while we were searching for it. She could still be alive.”
Tyrande sighed again. “Perhaps. Until proof is found, I will pray for her safe return, but I fear the worst. She would not have cast such an artifact aside if she had any other option available to her. And with Worgen, well,” she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes once again. “A lack of body is no proof of anything.”
Agh. A depressing thought indeed. I wasn’t sure what was worse––to be torn apart and eaten by one of those creatures, or to be transformed into one. From what I’d seen from the Scythe’s blueprint, the curse of the worgen was in some ways even worse than the lycanthropy I was familiar with. It was a permanent transformation, not something that only occurred once or twice a month, and the ways of managing the affliction were even more onerous.
The fact that I’d so thoughtlessly touched that blasted thing with my own bare hand was probably going to haunt me for months. It could be safely handled with the correct knowledge and expertise, but one moment of carelessness could render the wielder just as cursed as the worgen the scythe allowed them to command.
There was a chance that I, as a non-Azeroth native, was in someway resistant to its influence, perhaps my aura and other magical defenses had shielded me for long enough to break contact with the scythe, or maybe I’d just gotten extremely lucky, but there was no way I was going to be that reckless ever again. From now on, no touching mysterious magical artifacts without examining them first, and probably testing them on one of my less-useful summons like Mercury and Counter Vertigo first.
“In that case, I would offer my deepest condolences.”
“Thank you, Hydrys. I will have to pass along the news to the other sentinels posted in Ashenvale. At least this offers some element of closure––more so than a simple sudden disappearance.”
I waited silently as Tyrande drummed her fingers on the edge of the table we were sitting around, her nails clicking softly against the polished wood. After our initial meeting, she’d led us to what was clearly a private section of the temple, with us only encountering a small handful of priestesses along the way. The meeting room we were using was small, but well appointed and comfortable, even if the furniture was clearly designed for people with somewhat different proportions from my own. I’d left most of my companions to explore the temple while Kent, Glynda, and I met with Tyrande and Ysondre in private.
Eventually, her fingers stopped and she once more picked up the scythe. Then, to my surprise, she extended her arm out towards me, holding the scythe out across the table. “The Scythe of Elune is a dangerous artifact, both to its wielder and those who stand against them. However, if properly mastered, it is a powerful tool. I caution you to not grow dependent on such borrowed strength, but perhaps it will be able to help you in the future.”
I blinked. I had been half expecting for Tyrande to confiscate it as a holy relic. Perhaps offer me some sort of payment for it, a finder’s fee of sorts. However, that had been a price I was willing to pay in exchange for first-hand information about the scythe and its abilities since I already possessed a Blueprint of it and wasn’t going to poke the original with a ten foot stick.
Having her just hand it back to me was rather unexpected, especially after her story about its previous wielder. Still, I wasn’t going to turn it down. Cursed artifacts of such power were not exactly something you just found lying around most of the time, and I could think of a handful of instances where having something like it on hand could be useful. Plus, it would look fantastic in a heavily warded display case in the library, and it was innately magical enough that its mere presence would be able to power the wards protecting it.
Tyrande clearly noticed something in my expression, because she smiled and carefully set the scythe back down into the box from which she’d removed it a few minutes earlier. “You seem like a responsible young man. I myself would simply return it to the Shrine of Mel'Thandris where my beloved locked it away, but such artifacts are made to be used, not hidden. And I imagine it will be far harder for those who wish to use its powers for ill to find it if it is in your hands.”
She spread her arms out to the sides in a graceful shrug. “Perhaps it has fallen into your hands for a reason, or perhaps this is all simply a whim of fate. In any case, I am confident that my dear friend Ysondre would not be so pleased to associate with you if she thought you were the sort to carelessly unleash the banished worgen upon the world. May it serve you well.”
Well then, fair enough. I closed the container and made sure the latches holding it shut caught. “I thank you for your trust, Tyrande.”
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Tyrande hummed softly in response. “I do believe my dearest Malfurion did compile some notes about the Scythe’s use before it was put away. I’ll have someone look into the matter. I don’t know how useful it will be to a non-druid, but perhaps you’ll be able to extract something of value from his notes. I fear for all his many skills, clear and comprehensive note-taking was never among them.”
Ysondre, who had mostly stayed silent so far, content to lean back in her chair and sip slowly at the wooden goblet of sweet-smelling wine that Tyrande had poured for her, let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a choked laugh. “Very true!”
Tyrande turned and raised a single perfectly shaped aquamarine eyebrow. “Not that you and your Flight are much better.”
For the first time since I’d met her, Ysondre looked slightly bashful, looking down into her cup. “Writing books is strange and unnatural,” she mumbled.
“The Blues and the Reds both manage it well enough.”
Tyrande turned back towards me. “Now then, I believe this is about a good time to end things. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Hydrys, and I look forward to getting to know you further. However, I would like to spend some time catching up with my old friend. I invite you and your companions to enjoy the fruits of my people’s labor these past years. I will send one of my priestesses to escort you to ensure there is no repeat of this evening’s unpleasantness. She’ll be able to take you wherever you wish to go.”
We exchanged polite farewells and then Tyrande called for another priestess to escort us from the Temple. At Zatanna’s request, she was happy to give us a small tour of the building along the way, but eventually we passed back through the central hall and onto the bridge where we’d had our earlier altercation with the overzealous Sisters.
There were a lot of things I wanted to do in Darnassus. We’d passed by a bustling marketplace on our way to the temple, and I had no doubts that the city would have at least one or two libraries I could peruse. I was still interested in finding one of the local arcane mages to add to my collection, and the giant-cat riding guards patrolling the city looked like capable and experienced warriors.
However, I was also very much impressed by the fact that this place had apparently been put together in a measly few years despite looking like a city that had been around for decades if not centuries. I’d also seen the way that Zatanna’s copy kept shooting glances at all the statuesque, purple-skinned elvish women, and I had no doubts that the original would be just as interested.
Furthermore, I was really starting to miss Torbey. I hadn’t thought about my old house elf in a while, but his presence would have made building my new home in Zatanna’s world a breeze. Even if these elves weren’t nearly as capable in that way, I had a feeling Zatanna would be far more pleased by the potential replacement and there was still a lot of manual labor that needed doing that I was getting really tired of. Especially since I had a feeling I was going to need to do some expanding to my original plans judging from how many Blueprints I was starting to accumulate.
I had better things to be doing than making furniture, putting in new floors, and putting up wallpaper. There were better uses for Glynda’s time than the cooking and cleaning she’d taken upon herself. And I didn’t want my dear, pregnant Zatanna exerting herself any more than was absolutely necessary.
If our guide was confused by my request, she didn’t show it. She patiently listened to me as I outlined my priorities, nodded, and said she’d see what she could do.
Our first stop was a tavern. We were all getting rather hungry and I was interested in sampling the local cuisine. After our meal, I paid one of the workers––a very pale-skinned elf with shining blue eyes, probably one of the ones that Ysondre had been confused for––five gold coins to sit down and relax for a few minutes while I made a Blueprint. She’d been an excellent waitress, had promised that she also knew how to cook and clean, and Zatanna had spent the better part of our meal ogling her chest. I would have been slightly concerned if I hadn’t seen Zatanna staring at me the same way while I got dressed in the mornings.
After that, we headed to one of Darnassus’ many gardens. Just like the Temple of the Moon, the entire city was built with the natural world in mind. There was an abundance of trees, vines, flowers, and all sorts of other plants scattered about that would have never been allowed to grow half as much in any city I’d visited before. It was odd, if beautiful, and took a lot of hard work to maintain.
It took our guide only a few minutes to track down one of the gardeners and, with her assurance that I was an honored guest, the night elf in question was happy enough to accept a few coins for ten minutes of her time.
Our next stop wasn’t really something I’d planned, but I was happy with how it turned out. We were on our way to our actual destination when we passed some manner of entertainer whose music caught Glynda’s attention. The night elf in question was playing something that resembled a flute, her eyes closed and her head rocking from side to side as she played. There was a small harp standing upright on the bench beside her, and a small magical creature that looked like a mix between a lizard and a butterfly was flitting around her head.
There was a small cluster of other people listening to her play and a basket by her feet was filled with a mix of silver and copper coins. Glynda silently gestured towards the elf, the question obvious in her eyes.
I shrugged. Why not? I’d been meaning to do something nice for Glynda. We waited for her to finish her current song, and then a soft word from our priestess guide and a flash of gold secured us a few minutes of her time. Some of the other listeners looked annoyed by the interruption, but no one seemed keen on saying anything when a Sister of Elune was involved. The order was clearly very well respected by the locals.
Finally, our last stop was at the very edge of the city. While the center of the city already looked rather ancient, the fringes were another story entirely. The area was filled with the sounds of hammering, sawing, and flashes of magic. Watching the elves work was genuinely quite impressive. They were perfectly coordinated, precise, and moved with the sort of confidence that could only come from experience. It took some shouting and convincing, but eventually we managed to pull one of the overworked-looking women aside.
She was a lot more skeptical than the others had been, but eventually the promise of money––and a healing blessing––won her over. Like with the other three elves, I ended up creating a generic Blueprint, just like I’d hoped.
I was in high spirits as we headed back towards the center of the city and the accommodations that had been prepared for us at Ysondre’s request. These new blueprints were going to save me so much time and effort going forward. They may not be powerful wizards, but not having to do housework was going to be magical.