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The jade Mogu, Zhenwei, turned out to be exactly as chill as Laronar had hoped. Despite being made of jade-green stone, Laronar's herbs did affect his mind with their potency, and that made their conversation all the more interesting, as the casual nature of the druid caused the construct's information to flow more freely from his ancient Mogu mouth. The only issue was that his memories were not crystal clear recollections, but rather educated guesses based on what images he had left in his damaged memory. Whatever magic powered his thoughts, such as they were, had clearly degraded with time.
Skilled a magic wielder as he was, Laronar had no Azerothly idea of how to fix the creature. He sat down with a huff of effort as he finished peaking at the runes that seemed to work as his brain and consciousness. Some of the lines had degraded, but he was able to fix those, it was the spellwork that had eroded to time that he simply did not understand how to fix. Pandaria's magic runes might as well have been another language.
"I am sorry, my new friend." He rumbled, joining the creature in the dirt as he sat comfortably in it. "Whatever made you knows magic beyond my skill."
Zhenwei chuckled, a grating noise that shook his ancient body. "I am Rajani…or, I was. In my time, those Mogu who served the Highkeeper took that clan name, and this appearance. Do you know of the Titans, scion of the Stormclaws? Do you know of thy Makers? If you did, you would not attempt to match their mastery of the Arcane."
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Laronar's brow furrowed. "I…know a bit about them…" He said carefully, suddenly more wary of the Mogu. He'd had a few conversations with the magi of Dalaran about them, back in Northrend when Ulduar had been explored. The genocidal Titan-appointed caretaker who had apparently been planning to 're-originate' all of Azeroth had been stopped, but there were far worse evils waiting to be found and killed in that Titan complex. Evidently there had been a being akin to that which had slept under Ahn'Qiraj in the bowels of Ulduar, but Laronar had arrived too late to join the raid to end it. Apparently, the battle had not gone nearly as smoothly as his own, and its foul influence had not been contained like C'thun. It was that very influence that had, according to the magi, likely corrupted Andrassil back before the Circle had been forced to break it, creating Vordrassil.
Despite Zhenwei's friendliness, he knew some Titan constructs had a tendency to attack those who denied that the Titans were their makers, but Laronar knew who had, supposedly, made him, and his kin, and even this far under the ground he knew the Moon Goddess was watching.
"I believe my kin were forged by a different power…" He said, choosing his words carefully, as he packed another bowl of herb for them to toke on, "But as I understand it, the Titans and their…Pantheon, are long gone from this world."
Again, Zhenwei laughed again. "The powers that forged you, are not so different from those which forged me, Night Elf…but you are correct. Your Goddess heavily warped and changed that which was brought forth by the Ordering of Azeroth. Though the Titans may have physically departed, I do not doubt that they still watch this world…in some capacity. It is more important than you know. I would know of your days upon this world, and the eons I have missed since last I was functioning."
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What followed next was a companionable conversation that mostly had Laronar describing the exploits of his long life. The reason for his now slightly fading immortality, how he'd acquired his natural powers, and the state of the Kaldorei as a people. He even told Zhenwei of the Dream, and the powerful consciousness he had felt and communed with the deeper he'd delved into that realm. That, had the Rajani quite interested.
"The World's very Soul…" He rumbled in awe. "To think you and your…Shan'do have contacted it in such a manner…she must find your calling a worthy one…the Stormclaw could not be in finer hands." With a grunt of effort, the jade being rose to his leonine feet. A smile cracked his odd but not entirely unappealing features. "I believe it is time you learned to wield it. With such a connection to Nature and its power as you have…you will likely have a much easier time of it than your ancestors. It will need some work, however…tell me, do you know of the current status of the Mogu? Of Lei Shen, the Thunder Thief?"
"I do not…" Laronar answered, tossing the ash in his pipe away, and packing it up. "But I believe I know someone who does. He uhh…may be a bit hostile towards you at first. Let me head up before you…I will explain that you are not like the other Mogu." Zhenwei acquiesced, and they ascended from the ancient barrow back to the surface of the world.
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One cloud message later, and Master Thunderfist had arrived. After greeting him, and being asked what he'd discovered, Laronar said, "An ancient Mogu." Understandably, Thunderfist tensed at his words, but the druid quickly continued, "They're not like those you know, though. Zhenwei is its name. He is made of jade, and claims to be…erm...Rajani. A servant of the Titan Highkeeper assigned to this part of the world, and he's assured me he is not an enemy of the Pandaren. Indeed, when he fell into stasis, your kind were quite young as a race still, apparently. He hasn't formed an opinion on you, yet."
Thunderfist's expression was unreadable, and might as well have been a cliff face for all the expression it showed. "Summon the…Rajani, then. We will see if this Mogu is truly as you say…you do not know them, Stormclaw. They are deceivers and liars, thieves and oppressors. Everything they had, they took from others. I expect yours will be no different."
Laronar frowned at the monk. "I would expect better than prejudice from someone of your line and status. I may not be familiar with the Mogu you know, but I believe this one is genuinely old enough to be…built different."
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Thunderfist once more had a look on his Pandaren face somewhere between constipation and consternation. "Fine. I will…reserve judgment. For now. No more, no less."
With a sigh, Laronar descended into the barrow, and then moments later, returned with Zhenwei. He was tall, green as jade, and had what he was hoping was a friendly smile on his carved leonine features. Thunderfist was not amused. He crossed his burly arms, weapons in their own right capable of reducing the jade Mogu to dust. "Aside from its coloration, I see no difference from any other Mogu I've faced and destroyed."
Before Laronar could respond, Zhenwei spoke with his deep rumbling baritone. "Greetings to you, Master Thunderfist. I know a student of the White Tiger when I see one. Your teacher and my Highkeeper were once allies, if not friends. Many times did the heavens of Azeroth thunder with the clash of their sparring blows. It was truly a sight to behold. I understand your hesitance to accept one of my kind, but know this: I am not sworn to the thief, Lei Shen."
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Thunderfist's brows crashed together, his eyes still full of mistrust. "Our records of that age are…suspect. I wish to hear what happened from you, Rajani. Our histories claim your clan answered directly to Ra-den. The Highkeeper. How did a being as low and base as Lei Shen steal a Keeper's power?"
Zhenwei frowned, then. "I…have forgotten much, but not even time could remove that knowledge from my memory…many ages ago, as the servants of the departed Titans continued to Order the world…we felt a pulse of great magic and power. It was suffused with memory fragments belonging to the Pantheon itself. Over time…Ra realized that the Titans had somehow perished."
Laronar chimed in, then. "Sargeras…the Burning Legion. They must have defeated them…" The druid quietly wondered what that meant for Azeroth, and if the Legion's next invasion might not be their final one.
Zhenwei nodded sorrowfully, and even Thunderfist stayed quiet, as though they'd been sequestered, the Pandaren did know of the Legion's first invasion, though not in great detail. The Zandalari Empire had thankfully been a buffer between the Well of Eternity and Pandaria, and had drawn much of the demon's focus in that darkened age.
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With a heavy sigh, Zhenwei continued. "The Highkeeper…fell into a deep depression. Yet the Mogu continued our assigned tasks. For ages we toiled…until the clans began…changing. Many of the Mogu were turning into beings of flesh instead of stone, and the infighting among my kind had grown out of control. Yet Ra did nothing. This occurred…if my chronometer is correct, fifteen thousand years in the past." Both the elf and Pandaren's eyes widened, as Zhenwei continued, as if that span was entirely normal and not nigh incomprehensible to a mortal being. "Much happened in this era…the Pandaren, Jinyu, and Hozen appeared, and settled in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. A group of Dark Trolls settled along the shores of the massive Arcane font in the world's center, and began wielding its great power, and…Lei Shen confronted the Highkeeper, beneathing the Thundering Mountain. For weeks, he tried to ascertain why Ra had fallen silent, and eventually, realized it was not apathy that afflicted him, but despair. My kin and I watched as the warmonger's words finally stirred Ra into action, and he showed us, all of us who were present, the remnants of the Highfather of the Titan Pantheon…Aman'thul himself."
Laronar and Thunderfist were spellbound by this point, utterly enraptured by the Mogu's words. "Lei Shen decided that if Highkeeper Ra would remain depressed and inactive, he would take the Titan's mission upon himself, along with his power. He incapacitated Ra with a cowardly strike, and stole his power for himself, dubbing himself the 'Thunder King'. He used the Highkeeper's power to forcibly unite the Mogu clans, and their Necromancer rulers under his fist, and it was at that point, that I left. The Rajani decided to hide, and seal themselves away like Ra-den. I chose differently. I was concerned about Trolls being anywhere near the Well of Eternity, but I found the newly raised Kaldorei in service to the Moon Goddess to be strong of character, and spirit. At least in the beginning. For over two thousand years I worked with the Highborne of the Kaldorei to help them wield the Arcane to a degree rarely seen in Mortal races. The desire to understand the Arcane, and expand their minds to their fullest potential, saw them rise in terms of power. And your Goddess' Night Warriors saw them secure the majority of Azeroth under her unrelenting light."
Zhenwei sighed, heavily. "It was doomed to fall apart, as Empires always are. Those with power elevated themselves above those who had none, and the arrival of Azshara changed your people's focus from bettering themselves, to bettering Her. All you did, was now done in Azshara's name, and all that most Highborne cared about was how important they were to your beloved Queen. And yet her allure did not appeal to all of you. Some few centuries before you told me you were born, Laronar, your ancestors sequestered the Storm Claw away, as artifacts with natural, primal power became nothing more than tools for study, that eventually ended up as piles of semi-useless dust at the feet of your Enchanters. I vowed to protect it, should someone manage to find where it was hidden. None ever did. Until you, that is. A direct heir to those who once wielded it. This is no coincidence, you finding me, Laronar Stormclaw. I hope you appreciate that."
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Laronar eyed the weapon again. It fit perfectly around his muscular arm and fist, though the materials it was made of were old. He examined each of the five long black metal claws that went over one's fingers, effectively turning a hand into a claw. On the knuckles and near the wearer's wrist were circular openings that were still empty. The ancient elven runes he couldn't decipher were carved around the base of the larger circle, and most of the top side of the weapon was covered in fur as black as his Cat Form's. The whole thing was bound together by ancient and remarkably durable black leather, likely from a mighty beast. After fishing around in his bags, Laronar did find some socketable gems for the weapon, but they didn't seem to fit. Finally, he spoke.
"A weapon like this will need maintenance, after thousands of years of disuse, and I can think of only one Blacksmith who would be eager enough to work on something this ancient for…a reasonable price. Zhenwei and I will journey to Ironforge."
Thunderfist nodded at that statement, as the druid leaving freed him up to do whatever it was master monks of Xuen did in their free time. "And the others? Your Druids?"
Laronar held up a tiny piece of arcane paper, Dalaran's solution to making the Message spell long range and more than a scant twenty or so words. "They will be staying to train with Xuen, once whatever is going on in that…Vale place…is sorted out."
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Zhenwei's eyes glowed brighter upon hearing of the Vale, and after Laronar explained what he knew of the situation there, the Rajani seemed eager to at least look. Thunderfist, obviously, would accompany them to his people's most sacred space because they were 'just letting all the Outsiders in now, apparently' and indeed, they were. Two large clans of Mogu had seemingly circumvented the Vale's formerly impregnable defenses, and now the Shado-Pan, who were stretched thin even during peaceful eras, were slowly falling to the fierce warriors and their numbers. In their desperate hour, the Golden Lotus, revered keepers of the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, had turned to the Shado-Pan, the Horde, the Alliance, and even random adventurers to help them drive back the Mogu's assault.
Laronar and Zhenwei wanted to join in to defend this holy example of nature, but Master Thunderfist stopped them. "You two must see to restoring this weapon." He had said, "It is the duty of my kind, to protect the Vale." And with that, the Pandaren Monk had proceeded to literally fly into the battle below the Golden Lotus's terrace, completely ignoring the large height from their base of operations to the ground. With a boom of thunder, the Pandaren Monk began leaving a trail of Mogu corpses in his sparking wake.
Deciding to leave then, an avatar of Xuen himself stopped them. "I am glad you have found your family's weapon, Laronarrr." He rumbled, both present and distracted by whatever else he was doing. Laronar had to imagine that splitting oneself into multiple places and processing all of them at once would tax any being, even a Wild God as ancient as the White Tiger. "Before you go…I will once again empower your family line with my blessing. Wield it well, in defense of our World, as you have done for over ten thousand years."
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Laronar held up the weapon then, and with a thundering roar that drew the attention of the Pandaren and adventurers near them, all eyes went to Laronar's raised fist, as blue-white lightning surrounded, and coalesced upon the ancient weapon. The central circular socket, surrounded by elven runes, became filled with either a gem encasing lightning, or a magical, sturdy covering that was keeping Xuen's power contained within the weapon. He tapped the completely transparent shield and found it sturdy, and unlikely to break.
"Our enemies shall learn to fear your lightning, White Tiger." Laronar promised. "For the defense of Azeroth."
Xuen nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Go, then. Repair the Storm Claw. Learn to wield it, both in your Elven shape and your feline one. Pandaria will endure these trials with, or without your aid." The sparking eyes fell on the Rajani, then. "Take Zhenwei with you…his knowledge will prove useful, in the wars to come."
Laronar and Zhenwei shared a look, and then gave the Ancient a deep bow. "Fight well, until we meet again, Xuen." Laronar finished, and then in a spark of electricity, the shard of the White Tiger returned to his central form. Laronar had noticed the blessing had shrunken the avatar slightly, but he also had a feeling that Xuen, and only Xuen, could awaken the power of his family's heirloom after being dormant for so very long. Sharing another look, Laronar nodded at Zhenwei. "Come, my friend. To Ironforge."
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Several Weeks Later…
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Much had changed, in the Dwarven capital. Where once the Bronzebeard Clan had undisputedly ruled with an iron encased fist brought upon any Dwarf that dared to oppose their line's King, in the wake of King Magni's ill-timed communion with the earth, and subsequently turning to diamond, Queen Moira had come to power. Or attempted to. He had, actually, seen the final cementing of this process the last time he'd been here, inviting the Dwarves to participate in the summit in Darnassus.
Now, the union of the three clans was much more obvious, and slightly less tense. There was no shortage of enemies to fight after all, and the Dark Irons were now officially members of the Alliance, too. As was the Wildhammer Clan. The most obvious example of this change, was at the gates. Normally, Laronar would've just flown in through the gryphon entryway, but Zhenwei's surprisingly heavy form had greatly slowed their journey. Now, an obstinate pair of Dark Iron Dwarves was barring them, for no other reason than they could. They had the barest sliver of authority, and seemed perversely amused that their antics were stalling and irritating a 'knife eared tree hugger' like Laronar.
The ancient druid was more than done with their antics, and had even considered bringing his new weapon out, but he did not yet know how to hold back with it, and murder was probably not the first act Xuen had intended his blessing to be used for. No matter how satisfying ripping out the throats of these flame worshiping imbeciles would be. Many of the Dark Iron still openly paid homage to Ragnaros, despite his assault on Hyjal, and his 'gift' to them was evident in the tips of their smoldering beards and glowing crimson eyes. They burned with the same fire Fandral's had, and that, atop the jeers, insults, and general obstinate attitude was grinding Laronar's last nerve. To his eyes, they looked very much like his enemies, but he kept his cool and remembered where he was.
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"Oi, mate! Can ye hurry et op!? Ets been twenty farking minutes!" A Bronzebeard guiding an ale cart behind Laronar and Zhenwei's tall forms called out. Laronar let the trader go ahead of them as he let the cold air of Khaz Modan cool his rage, off to the side of the line. Only to have it flare to life again, as he saw the guards let the dwarf through without so much as glancing at his fully loaded cart. They'd gone through his own entire set of bags, twice, emptying their contents as they'd done so, twice, and that had taken most of the last twenty minutes.
The snow crunched loudly, as Laronar's large feet forewent silent padding for once, and simply smashed through whatever was under his clawed boots. "Seriously!?" He shouted at them, barely suppressing the snarl in his voice. "You didn't even question him! What happened to that 'heightened state of security'?"
The fatter and more obnoxious Dark Iron went back to leaning on his admittedly finely forged greataxe. "Och, well, y'knoo, we let'im through on account uv 'im not being a feckin' fruit munchin' tree hugger!" The pair of Dwarves burst into laughter again, and the rest of those waiting behind Laronar and his silently watching Mogu ally groaned. Zhenwei had once held a high opinion of the Earthen, being that they were fellow Titanforged. Now, on the slopes of their flesh-cursed kin's greatest city, he had a glimpse of just how far they had fallen. In this part of the world.
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Finally, Laronar pulled rank. "I have had Enough of this farrrrrrce…" He snarled dangerously. His right arm, the one with the Storm Claw, moved imperceptibly fast, across both dwarve's necks, and for a moment, the onlookers thought he'd finally just cut their throats, but as they reacted laughably slow and drew their weapons, Laronar smirked down at them, their guard tags, names and all, dangling from his beclawed hand. "Dagrud and Donnovan. And of course you're related. Very well. We shall see what Agent Graddock thinks of the sheer incompetence and Racism his main gate guards have displayed."
"Yoo jus' attacked Guards o' Ironforge ya knife-eared bastard! Yer not goin' anywhere!" The fat one, Dagrud, probably, shouted at him.
Donnovan, to his credit, at least knew who Laronar was talking about, as he said, "Ahhm, Dag, we shou- we should prolly get back to et…"
"Raise yer weapon ye coward! He's-" Laronar didn't hear the rest of the dwarf's spew, as he signaled for Zhenwei to await him and the hooded Mogu answered him with a nod. Laronar then transformed into an irate looking owl. His feathers were puffed out in response to the anger the Ragnaros tainted spawn of the earth had incited within him, making him seem larger than he was, and with an ear piercing shriek that echoed his rage through the mountain chain, he further cursed the Dark Iron's lineage, power-flapped upwards, and through the gryphon port with frightening speed.
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His first stop, was SI:7 Agent Graddock. A dwarf handpicked by Shaw himself to assassinate Moira when she had tried taking over Ironforge, he now served as a Rogue trainer for Ironforge, and a co-captain for the guards, namely to add intelligence and scouting efforts to their heavy armored firepower. Naturally, Laronar had a feeling his closeness to SI:7 had been kept obscured, as much as it could be, and he was likely using his position to keep Shaw and Stormwind apprised of any more inter-clan chaos from the Dwarves. Laronar apprised him of the situation at the gate, which made the stoic Dwarf's countenance darken.
Not one to miss a chance to verbally slaughter a pair of feckless Dark Irons, his arrival at the gates was met with the Captain of their shift, and an alerted company of armored Dwarven warriors. It wasn't exactly hard to find a Night Elf in Ironforge, and in the end they didn't need to. Once Laronar elaborated on their antics to all present, he did take more pleasure than he should have when the pair of guards were informed of his many titles, their ashen skin paling with each one. Sometimes, clout was useful.
The pair ended up going to speak to Moira for their insults to a vaunted ally of the Alliance, as Graddock had called him. It amused Laronar, as to his wizened perspective, he'd barely helped SI:7 at all, but his service had been ongoing for almost half a decade, which was longer than many agents apparently lasted, in a spy organization. Thanking Graddock again, Laronar retrieved Zhenwei, whose stone composition fascinated the Dwarves, and made their way to Hjaldi of the Wildhammers.
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Upon greeting Laronar, Hjaldi immediately took note of the Storm Claw on his hand. "Ahh, now I see why ye've come tae me, Laronar. This weapon…has great power, an' I 'aint talkin' about tha' Blessin' from Xuen, though that is addin' to its potency. Nae, this relic is…deeply tied to the Primal powers of our world. Somethin' you Druids don't much dabble in."
Laronar bowed his head to the Wildhammer Shaman's wisdom. "We dabble in more than enough, I think. We have to leave some mysteries for our Shaman friends to uncover. What exactly can it do, Hjaldi?"
"May I?" He asked, and Laronar nodded, taking the familial relic off of his hand, and passing it to the meaty grip of the dwarf. He nodded, murmuring what Laronar knew to be a basic Identify spell under his breath, but alas, that one was not in Laronar's repertoire. He made a note to try to find a scroll for it when he next visited Dalaran. His last purchase had greatly filled his memory gaps with regard to his Mage Hand, and Identify would be quite useful.
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"This is…ancient…"Hjaldi helpfully said, "Older even than you, an' yer a livin' relic!" Finally, he answered Laronar's question. "This relic is mightily tied tae the element of Air. Et'll make et's wielder faster than yer average lad. Stronger, too. Et seems tae…well, at full power, et'll infuse yer muscles with the power o' the Storm." One of the Dwarf's bright, almost beady eyes glinted from behind his massive nose. "Wit this on yer paw, I reckon ye'll be livin' up tae yer name, Stormclaw."
Laronar nodded patiently. "I see. I figured I would, given its monicker, and ties to my ancient family members. Can you repair it? Make it…compatible with modern weapons? Usable, again?"
Hjaldi gave the Night Elf a look he knew only too well. "Oh, aye can do tha', but oi'll need some…materials. An' it won't be a short list, either. Ye'll have tae gather them wit'out question, in the exact quantity I tell ye. Think yer up fer tha'?"
Laronar's face was a monolith. "Just give me the list, Hjaldi."
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Almost immediately, the Wildhammer shaman started gleefully writing, scribbling rapidly on what was evidently a magical piece of paper that just kept expanding to meet his needs. Laronar's eye only twitched once, but by the end of the list it was reaching the floor. "Some o' these ye'll have tae get from smiths an' crafters. Others…will be harder tae find, an' loikely guarded by some nasty beastie."
Laronar sighed heavily as he looked through it. "Some of these ingredients don't even appear until almost next year…"
Hjaldi nodded. "Aye, should take us 'bout a year an' a half, by my reckonin'." He tore off the ore section of the list then. "Oi'll handle the minin' on Stormwing. You can get everythin' else." Hjaldi gave him a classic shit-eating Dwarven grin, winked at the internally grumbling druid, and then waved as he turned into a fierce black owl and power-flapped away. Normally, such a list would make him procrastinate, like Hjaldi no doubt expected him to. But this was a unique circumstance, and Laronar was feeling motivated. Zhenwei had expressed an interest in connecting with the Dwarves, so he had agreed to stay as a kind of honored guest and advisor to the Wildhammers, while Laronar went off solo questing.
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Despite his list of absurd reagents, Laronar had gotten the Wildhammer smith to make the Storm Claw combat ready, more or less. It lacked the power it once held, but being ten thousand years old meant Laronar knew well what was required to empower his relic. The power of other relics. Khaz Modan had no shortage of such things, though they would not give as much as what he would no doubt find on the Broken Isles. They were, quite literally, drowning in ancient magical relics whose power was just going to waste, polluting the sea. Thus, Laronar made his way through the Dwarven kingdom, occasionally stopping when his sharp owl eyes noticed something below, that usually led to a cache of stuff.
Calling it treasure, would've been too generous. Most of it was trash, though trash Laronar expected would get him some much needed gold, if sold to the right vendors. Faced with a relatively calm sea, the Archdruid had a swift flight to the Isles. As he entered their airspace, the ever present arcane tomb of what was once a large portion of Suramar still glowed in the distance, but something was definitely new, and off. Some one, or some thing, had raised the ancient Temple of Elune, and he used his superior owl senses to investigate the new mostly shattered shore below him, perching in the same statue-bowl he'd once chilled in, before meeting Liu Lang.
Aside from a few sea creatures, he didn't spot anything of note, and while he was tempted to enter the Temple, pillaging the artifacts of the Sisterhood would probably not do him any favors with the Goddess. Thus, he resisted poking that particular bee hive, and moved on across the shore.
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His finds were immediate, and bountiful. Mostly, he found glittering coins, age old treasures, and mementos of an era long past that still glittered with traces of power. All of these, went to empowering the Storm Claw. Naturally, some of these ancient chests were guarded by beasts, monstrous or otherwise. The most notable of which, was a dragon-like being that seemed to glow with the very power of storms, and was not a standard color of the Dragonflights loyal to Alexstrasza, being somewhere between blue and purple. It didn't speak, either, despite his attempts to communicate, the dragon shot lightning from its maw first, and took no questions.
Laronar didn't hesitate, as he found the drake was rather young, at least compared to the span of years of the dragons he was more familiar with, and the two had an epic duel atop the peak of a mountain, as thunder boomed and lightning surged with each of their attacks. After gaining some of its former power back, the Storm Claw had manifested on his Cat Form by granting a pair of sharp metallic claws on his fore paws that were not at all dissimilar to what the Fangs of Ashamane had granted him. They felt different, of course. Lighter, mostly, but with time and gathered power, he had a feeling his family's heirloom would prove their equal. He also fully intended to get his patron to bless the weapon as well.
Nothing granted power like slaying a beast though, and as he finished the fight by tearing out the storm drake's neck, he plunged his right paw, the limb in his elven form that was sporting the Storm Claw, into the beast's heart. His fur stood on end, likely looking quite comical as he had the weapon absorb the dragon's power, and he stared in disbelief as he shifted to his elven form, and took a measure of its potency. The dragon, along with the sizable horde of empowered loot it had been guarding, significantly raised the 'level' of his artifact, to the point that he deemed it worth bringing to Ashamane.
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Upon taking his Flight Form again, Laronar noted his owl talons were once more encased in razor sharp metal that occasionally sparked with the white blue lightning of Xuen. Something strange also occurred, as he flapped into the air. He felt much, much faster, and found that with minor effort, he could control the winds and storms that almost perpetually surrounded the Broken Isles to radically increase his flight speed. This, garnered the attention of the Mistress of Flight herself, though her manner of speech was radically different than the last time he'd heard Aviana. After the assault on Hyjal, she had lost much of her joyful nature.
"You have awakened a new power, Stormclaw..." She said with a hint of amusement and obvious intrigue. "I would see how fast your new abilities can take my gift to you."
Unwilling to disappoint she who had given him wings, he surged forward, and his form's inner eyelids slid shut by reflex with the sudden jump in speed. With a shriek of pure joy, Laronar rocketed through the Vrykul-filled areas of the Broken Isles, soaring down and then up the cliffs around him as he got a feel for flight at this kind of speed. All the while, lightning surged around him, and as he felt it peak, he surged forward in a spinning spiral once again, aimed up the side of a rather large mountain in this case, before he opened his wings as his momentum started to fade. It was hard to see things, even with his ridiculously superior owl sight, flying at these speeds, but he did hear a roar that sounded all too familiar. Rotating his head as he descended the other side of the mountain towards the Unending Ocean, Laronar spied a much larger storm dragon, this one likely female, whose hide was scarred with the proof of a long life. He heard Aviana giggle in the back of his head, and then knew he'd been set up. Flying that fast, with power like this, had been all but a guarantee to draw the matriarch's ire.
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She outsized him by several orders, and yet flew as fast as he did, when such a thing should have been physically impossible. As her large sparking face pulled up beside him, Laronar had to keep the owl's fear in check. Yet, instead of snapping him up, she flashed him a grin with her toothy maw, and roared. Realizing they were already at the ocean's surface, Laronar's dark owl eyes widened, as he felt her, somehow, using the power of their flight, the storm, and their closeness to the 'ground' such as it was, to propel them further, without losing height or momentum. She rumbled, and nodded at him, and then Laronar used his own power, namely that of the Storm Claw, to do as she had.
The massive storm dragon arced their path back towards the Broken Isles as fatigue threatened to set in, her wings pumping easily, steadily, and repeatedly as she ascended as many times as she pleased. For his part, Laronar found that the most difficult to do, and maintain his speed. Yet, though it cost him speed, he did eventually just shift back to a normal flight style, gain an absurd amount of altitude, and then shoot after the storm dragon. She seemed amused by his struggle, and as she landed on a rather high peak bordering Stormheim, Laronar felt himself being summoned.
As he landed, he walked, somewhat awkwardly as an owl, towards the dragon, shifting shapes as he did so. Her sparking eyes narrowed, yet Laronar did not responding to the growl that accompanied her next words. "Kaldorrrrrrei...a Druid, then. Your kind...should not know of Stormriding."
He raised up the Storm Claw, before she decided to just atomize him with plasma and be done with it. "I acquired this skill recently, thanks to this. An ancient family heirloom, tied to the power of the storm."
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Leaning in, the massive matriarch sniffed the claw, and glared at him. "You have run afoul of one of my sons...and recently."
"I have." Laronar said, knowing there was no point in lying, as he had experienced having a superior nose, and knew she would trust her senses over his word. His 'fellow' mortals had a tendency to lie. "He fought bravely, but in the end, I was stronger."
Air, foul and hot and charged with static washed over him, coalescing around the Storm Claw. "You are not of these peaks...and yet you understand our ways. Because of this...I will grant you a boon. I will empower your weapon...with true blessings..." Laronar heard a distant, distracted snarl in his head, but the smirking dragon opened her sparking maw anyway, washing the ancient weapon in the breath of the Thorignir.
Frowning slightly, Laronar glanced at the weapon, as the energies of the dragon and the tiger, despite being similar, were very much at odds. "Thank you...Matriarch." Laronar said, guessing at how her kin viewed her. Slowly, they had poked their curious heads from the various caves around them, yet not moved to strike the strange storm-favored mortal. Looking towards Val'sharah, Laronar felt another being of power calling to him. "I will not forget this kindness." Laronar said to her. "Know that you have any ally in Archdruid Laronar Stormclaw...for whatever that is worth. If ever you desire my aid...just head for Val'sharah and...cordially ask for me. Now if you'll pardon me, great and wise drakes of the storm, I must depart."
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He bowed low, and then met the matriarch's gaze. Even then, he got the impression she wanted to simply snap him up, and keep his toy. Thankfully, the other various blessings from powerful entities gave her pause. Swallowing the kilt he wore, would undoubtedly mess with her stomach. With a nod, she let him go, and with a single powerflap, Laronar was off again, rocketing through the skies.
As he left Stormheim, it became slightly harder to maintain a consistent speed, but he was going so ridiculously fast that it simply didn't matter. As he dove towards Ashamane's Fall, he realized the next challenge with this method of ridiculously fast flight: branches. He was skilled enough, this time, to not surge into one, narrowly barrel rolling past them, but he knew it was a matter of time, and that he would need to practice. As he had that thought, he landed at Ashamane's altar, winged flared to kill his momentum, claws sliding across the soft ground as he came to a stop, he heard Aviana once more, in his skull. "Find me later, Laronar Stormclaw. I will teach you to properly wield these new gifts...and all it will take is a few Glyphs!"
Glad the Mistress of Flight was seemingly rhyming again, or in a good enough mood to do so, he promised he would, eventually, come and find her at her shrine in nearby Highmountain. He also knew the latest incarnation of Kota would want to learn this method of flight as well.
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As he returned to his elven shape, Laronar frowned again, as he sensed the continued turmoil within his artifact. The arrogance of the dragon and the pride of the tiger would not settle, and he could feel the weapon thrumming on his hand.
"You have gathered too much power too quickly, my Stormclaw." Ashamane purred, as she manifested before her alter, lying down comfortably on the grass, the picture of casualness. "Place your weapon upon my Altar. I will...tame the storm...and make it serve it's newest master. You."
From behind them, Laronar heard the voice of an old friend. "I would think you would want such a powerful weapon for yourself, Ashamane." Thaon Moonclaw said, in his charismatic baritone.
Ashamane let out a huffing sound. "These blessings shall serve Laronar, and Laronar serves Me, Thaon. Besides, I do not require trinkets to use such power...but you Mortals are so very limited, and thus must resort to these kinds of items." Her tone might have had slight mockery in it, but Ashamane knew very well how powerful the mortal races were becoming, now that the best of them had started just layering on trinket after trinket, magic ring after magic ring, and acquiring more and more armor from each foe they defeated. Some of the Ancients were wary of letting them have so much power. Others, Cenarius and Ashamane among them, chose to trust in the mortals who helped defend their world, many of whom had done so for as long as Laronar, if not longer.
Orange energy surrounded the Storm Claw, and a pair of lightning bolts surged around the weapon, seeking dominance. Where they sparked, druidic runes appeared on the blades, containing the volatile power, and focusing it. Eventually, she managed to get the pair of opposing forces contained and circling each other in a balanced spin that greatly enhanced the weapon. Donning it again with a nod from Ashamane, Laronar's eyes widened. The sheer amount of power was now much more noticeable, and significant, but he knew it would need more, in addition to Hjaldi's materials, if it was going to be a Legion-killing weapon.
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"What will you do now, my Druid?" The panther asked, and Laronar smirked at her.
"I have some...gathering...to do. And then, I need to find Storm. It's long past time I got him back in shape." Ashamane chuffed again, and cryptically wished him luck, before vanishing into the aether again to 'take a much needed nap'. Thaon, and the other Moonclaw Druids swarmed him then, eager to see his family heirloom, and before long, he was demonstrating its lightning based power on target dummies set up within Ashamane's Fall.
While shooting lightning bolts was fun, Laronar eventually tried something different. Taking his Cat Form, the other druids marveled at his claws, and their similarity to Ashamane's Fangs. He showed the Moonclaws then, what the Stormclaws had long since mastered, and as he applied his bleeding, rending slashes and followed them with a vicious wound-widening bite, he found it was enhanced by his weapon. Filled with a ridiculous amount of energy, Laronar went into what could only be called a Frenzy, ripping the dummy to shreds as he slashed at it six consecutive times in the same attack, the final blow of which removed its straw head with a flash of claws and lightning.
Impressed at his power, Laronar eyed his handiwork, and quietly wondered just how much further he could push it.