Mohryn's Tale

Fwew!!!! Man!! It's been a very long time but now I'm finally in a new place/home. I'm going to grad school for paleontology and teaching mineralogy and sed labs at the local university. It's weird to be grading...very weird but all in all it's been pretty fun. Well...here's the new site...a repository for old...new...good stories? Post your own in the comments if you like...I'm a fantasy nut as well as WOW but not a lot of time to read or do either at the moment! This story is the present looking back whereas the story will start near the beginning. Enjoy.

The candlelight dimmed further into the waning hours of another fruitless night. Many moments had passed since the last question had been answered. He had half hoped that would be the last account of an already old story. The wizened faces that greeted his wary gaze told enough not to keep his hopes up.

By the time his haggard footfalls carried him back to his room it was nearly sunrise. His room was plush…too plush… complete with its bookcases full of empty, vain knowledge to the half-heartedly made shrine to Cenarius. There was little left to do but to deny the comforts and unfurl the bedroll…to which he laid his staff beside.

“I see the council kept you late again.” called familiar voice from an equally travel worn elf in the room’s only chair. His green hair was fresh with the various leaves of the forest’s trees…still firmly planted between the threads of his matted hair.

‘If not on twigs they had at least found an equally earthy home…both rarely get a bath near enough to wash the dirt away’ thought Mohryn.

“They can never get around to the point of things can they? I have seen human women grow beards faster than they make decisions.” Quintis Jonespyre was always an elf quick with words and quicker with actions. It was a trait Mohryn found refreshing…

“There are matters still yet to be discussed. Evidently my story has not settled well with many of them…nor have my accusations.” Mohryn commented as he lit a fresh candle, snuffing the waxless wick out with a wetted finger.

Quintis yawned, standing slowly as to stretch out his tired muscles. “Well at any rate, Stonetalon hasn’t changed much…neither has the orc encampment to the south.” No sooner had he cracked most of the bones in his body than did he plop down on the plush bed.

Mohryn shook his head slowly, walking to the balcony of their room. “No…not much has changed…” He looked back to find Quintis already breathing rhythmically, deep in the throes of sleep. “No…not at all.” He walked back into the room and to his pack, withdrawing a small leather-bound journal worn with the passage of time. The pages fluttered through his searching fingers finally stopping on one of the last pages. His tired gaze passed along many of the words as they had so many times before. ‘Beware the complacency of knowledge…of power that becomes stagnant through fear of use.’ Heresy some had called those words…traitorous teachings is what it had eventually been termed.

He sighed, setting both his book and his body down. It was the same words waiting in the throats of those in today’s council. Would he too follow the path his father took? Branded as a traitor for sound teachings… cast to the outlands to save his family and his house.

‘No…not this time.’ The house of Moonstar had fallen long ago, soon after his father had disappeared. There would be no one to sacrifice for…no honor to lose.

Quintis’ snoring became too much. Mohryn, with a quick jab to Quintis’ side abruptly stopped a long, obnoxious snore…sending him into a series of snorts and mumbles of not wanting to get up just yet. He eyed the journal for a moment before taking it back into his hands.

“Just enough room for another story…” He said to himself. The nearby quill and ink was taken up and served its purpose. In the early moments of sunrise he began the story told to the council once again…

I am Evensong Moonstar, first and only son of the house of Moonstar. Here I write my story; next to my father’s…here I recount the betrayal of my family and the lie I now live…

He wrote for another two hours, recounting his tutoring under the Talon Den’s druid council and Rynthariel the Keymaster after his father’s banishment from Teldrassil. He wrote of how his father was betrayed and why… He wrote of his mother covering their trail from Darnassus to Stonetalon…of her death at the hand of orcs soon after. He wrote of changing his name from Evensong to ‘mourn’ and of remembering his father’s teachings of magic…forbidden. The words told of his path from the secrecy of the Talon Den to Feathermoon where he met Quintis…to Winterspring where the secrets of the Owlkin were found and to Azeroth where his alliances now stood.

He stopped with his friends…with the mention of Ascension’s guildhall. The path forked here. At the impasse of the present there were but two choices, his friends or his past. The last words he wrote stung him.

“I am Evensong Moonstar and though my story will not be told while I yet breath I carry the honor of my father and the memory of my mother…now long since forgotten.”

A separate note was written and tied to the journal that stated that it was not to be opened until his death. It gave an address in Darnassus to which it was to be sent. He bade Quintis a fare journey back to Feathermoon in between his now resurgent snores and began the long ride back home…his past behind him, his friends before.