HEROIC REALMS

As she had many times before when things quieted down, Laurelin sat within the confines of the druid circle pondering her thoughts. Something had occurred that might seem insignificant at first glance to others, in fact she had tried several times to push any thoughts of the occurrence from her mind as just that, but they continued to re-emerge and demand her attention. For as long as she could remember, she was taught to live and breath hatred and mistrust of the drow. Every ounce of them evil, every bit cruel, every breath just one step closer to achieving their goal... extinction of her own kind. Of course her travels here in the Northlands have proved this to be true time and again. Early on in her time within the Stronghold, plans were discovered that revealed their intention to attack her beloved homelands. Fortunately, thanks to the diligence of her new friends and the Klor's guild itself, such plans were thwarted.

Even now the Drow had set themselves upon the path of war with the elves once again. Orcs at their behest, had raped and pillaged the sacred trees of the Silent Wood so that the shadow elves might find swifter passage across the seas. Dark hearts were thirsty for blood, gambling so much in their haste, that carelessness revealed their nefarious plot to those who would seek to stop them. For her part, she had no doubt that once her deeds were discovered, vengence would come swiftly. Stark and Ancalime had already suffered the first wave of their wrath, simply for buying our people time. It would not be long before they figured out they were double crossed yet again in the corruption of their coveted Shadow Horn and the druid fully intended to face the brunt of their wrath alone.

When tragedy of such scale hangs in the balance, one becomes so desperate for a solution... that they pay little mind to the consequences they will surely face. The Ancient dragon warned her of her peril and still she willingly accepted her fate, determined that her inaction would yield more dire consequences than those that would in time befall her. So long as she drew breath, she could not turn a blind eye to those who remained in the peaceful woodlands of Farlenia. Strange to think her father raised her to be just as wary of the High Council and their devoted followers as she should be the Drow. They were a tad arrogant, and self important when one first met them, but after spending more time amongst them discussing the impending war, she discovered something she had not expected. They were Elves just like she, who struggled to find their footing in the much wider world beyond. They carried the same burdens, the same regrets and the same sorrows of times long since past... and yet in their own way, tried to make the world a better place than the one our ancestors left behind. She wondered if when Lothoren returned to be told the grave news she had to tell... if she would find him different for her failure. She liked him... enjoyed the brief time they spent in Farlenia together as well as within the Stronghold. It was her hope that perhaps together they could help bridge the divide between the reclusive elves and those she had come to trust here. It would make a grand alliance to be certain. Their vast knowledge of things could surely help answer the many questions that had arose in the wake of events here in Elescirt... but alas, the druid had a sinking feeling any hopes of that might be extinguished.

Still, this was not the center of her quandry. What had unsettled her more than anything was her reaction to Moon's death before her eyes. Without even thinking about it, she could hear her father's voice in her head, praising the death of yet another dark elf... regardless of the aid he had just offered. To him... and many that she knew, even an extension of good will from a Drow was little more than bait in a trap. A small offering for a large debt to be collected that no elf could bear to pay. She had until recently shared these prejudices, and in many cases such did hold true... but not in Moon or Ash. Yes ... Moon was different, as was Ash... and presumeably Shade... but nonetheless, even with all the evidence presented... Her father would have scorned her decision to sit beside him in silent prayer, as he passed on to judgement after sacrificing himself for another. His ire would increase ten fold if he knew she had bowed before Moon in acknowledgement of his undeniable aid against Arzerack that surely tipped the scales in their favor... Even if he was told it was the will of Laroon of herself, he would find a way to discredit his deeds as nothing more than deceit. Old scars seldom faded, and for a time she wondered what of the Drow had wounded her sire so deeply.

As she reflected inwardly, she knew some of her stalwart hatreds had faded. All that she had learned had begun to turn malice into pity... disgust into sorrow... and fact into doubt. We as a people had shunned the Drow instead of embracing our fallen bretheren. Turned our back upon them, rather than bend our every energy and whim to help them in their plight. It had become clear that in their twisted endeavors to reclaim the shard of immortality... they sought only to be what we were. To be absolved of the grave errors in judgement of their forebearers... to be whole once more. Did she not willingly aid the Awthorns in their endevor to achieve the same? Ash... Moon... Shade...even Ickathon are the embodiment of that single hope. Laroon herself had compelled them and us alike to come together in her grand design. Yes... our purpose was fulfilled... we have, with the cooperation of each in one way or another felled the champion of Torom that had drawn the tears of our beloved goddess... but was that all in her benevolent being that she had hoped for? If so, then why did the task require elf, human, drow, awthorn, tryclopse and various creatures alike to work in harmony to achieve such a goal? Was she trying to bring us all together again? Was this the true meaning of her message? Is this why when quarrels erupted between townfolk after the battle she had found a voice to insist upon peace between them all?

Perhaps this is what Ickathon meant when he explained he too felt the sorrows of her own heart. Perhaps... if she could convince Lothoren that the loss of the blade leant in good faith was minute in the grand scheme of things... she could begin the task of bridging divides... beginning with those she held most dear. The time had come to reunite those who were once brethren... the time has come to bring the Awthorns and the Elves together once more. If anything it was a start... so much more could be gained than lost... and if succeeded... there was no telling where it could all lead...it was a good start.