...you didn't REALLY think I was just going to leave it there, did you?
---------------
Epilogue
"AND YA FELL FOR IT TOO!" Vol'jin gasped between gales of uproarious laughter, clapping one hand gleefully against his leg, the other hand waggling a triumphant finger at the short, wiry, and decidedly irritated priest standing before him. "AH...hahaha...I can't believe ya went to all dat trubble leetle priest, ah really can't..." His voice trailed off as he broke into another fit of glee.
"...right. You got me. How very clever of you." The look on Swoop's face did anything but indicate cleverness on Vol'jin's part, but he wasn't paying attention at that point. She shifted her feet, crossing her arms and waiting for him to calm down. "The question I have, O wise leader, is why precisely you felt it necessary to send me on that kind of a goose-chase?"
Wiping tears of amusement from his eyes, Vol'jin merely shook his head. "Ah, t'wasn't mah ideah, priest. Jes'rimon, 'e said you were bored, in need of a leetle excitement, e's the one dat suggested it in dah first place-" The priest's expression changed from glowering to out-and-out murderous, and she was startled out of her reverie by Vol'jin's hand, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder, his voice gentle now. "Ah, priest. Don't be holdin' it against him. Ya are as good as kin to de Darkspeah anyway, 'ave been for a long time, longah than I probably know. 'e gave me an ideah of 'ow long though. Ya don't tink we'd be playin' tricks on ya if we didn't trust ya, do ya?"
Swoop glanced up at him, startled, and the leader of the Darkspear smiled then, and his smile was kind. "Tink of it dis way. Da cubs, dey only play pranks when dey really like each other. Same with any children, any tribe. Wasn't meant ta hurt yah, Swoop. Yer one of us, in yer own way." She nodded slowly in agreement and Vol'jin stood, turning back to the table of documents, maps and duties at his side. "Now den, priest. Go on, outta heah - I got plenty o' tings to be takin' care of. You be well."
The priest curtseyed, low and respectful, and walked out of the great building that housed two of the more honorable Horde leaders, contemplating that last bit of information, and as she walked, deep in thought, a slow smile crossed her features and she fairly skipped her way back to the main thoroughfare.
----
The deep and altogether loud and obnoxious snoring of a troll fast asleep broke the otherwise still air of the Drag, rhythmic and slow. A troll, fast asleep on a hammock high above the rest of the activity below, grinned in his sleep.
The yelp of his awakening was muffled however by a cool hand over his mouth and a surprisingly strong, if bony, body pinned him awkwardly to the now-swaying hammock, his eyes wide with terror, adjusting to the dimness and attempting to identify his attacker-
-and his body relaxed as he took in the form of the small priest, glowing eyes boring into his own, steadily.
"I suggest you keep quiet, Jes'rimon, unless you'd like half of Orgrimmar to discover you here."
She uncovered his mouth and was treated with a very lazy and very wicked grin. "Ah, you be back den? And was your journey as interestin' as de one dat brought you here, priest?" His grin faded as she pressed a dagger to his throat. "Dat's not very nice, priest..."
"Neither is sending me on a wild goosechase after a scrap of parchment that has no useful purpose whatsoever..." She purred quietly. "...now how about you tell Swoop why exactly you sent her after it, before something unpleasant happens."
His eyes widened further still. "Dah scroll? Ya mean ya got it? Give it to me, I'll take it ta Vol'jin maself, don't worry ah'll tell him ya were da one dat found i-" The pressure on his throat caused him to squeak in dismay, and then the priest sat back on top of him, pulling the dagger away and contemplating this information.
"Now see, Jes, this is where I'm confused. I already went to Vol'jin, and he said it was all a joke anyway - so obviously this scroll wasn't all that important. So how come YOU are so intent on having it in your greedy little hands?" The troll shook his head wildly, stuttering out excuses, and Swoop carefully placed one finger over his lips. "It doesn't matter, Jes. The scroll is gone."
"GONE?!" he gasped. "No, ya can't 'ave...gone where?!"
She shook her head. "It doesn't really matter does it? It was just a joke, right?" One eyebrow raised cautiously, and the troll heaved a sigh of defeat.
"Dat ting...dat ting could've fetched a very hefty amount o'coin, priest." He swallowed. "Very, very hefty."
Abruptly, the priest swung off of him, striding towards the ramp leading back into the Drag. "Doesn't matter, Jes. The scroll is gone. I can guarantee you, personally, that nobody's ever going to find it." With that, she left, leaving the troll to cover his eyes in dismay. After a moment, he sat up, staring across the dim lights of the Drag, expressionless.
----
"...gone?"
"Gone. I'm sorry, sir, but the...undead thing destroyed it. Scattered it to the winds. I guess it thought if it couldn't have it, nobody would." The lie fell from his lips naturally.
The Arch Druid's gaze was soft, his voice quiet. "They don't...think. They just act. Mindless, the lot of them."
"Sir?"
Staghelm waved a hand. "It matters little. Begone."
"I...I'm sorry, sir-"
"I said go." The druid stared openly at Staghelm, who was showing absolutely no expression or indeed emotion at all, which was unusual, to say the least. Nodding quietly, he crept out of the Arch Druid's quarters. While the actions of the Arch Druid were curious, he was not curious enough to risk Staghelm's wrath.
And in the quiet of his chambers, Fandral Staghelm stared blankly at one of many, many mirrors, and as he stared, he sighed, and as he sighed, one finger reached out to carefully brush a speck of dust from the glass, and in a voice so low that none could hear, he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Valstann. I've failed you again." His lips barely moved as he whispered the words. "I will have you back. I swear it. Though it takes...millennia..."
----
Deep underground, beneath the cool night air of Moonglade, hidden safely away in the deepest of the Barrow Dens, a carefully preserved corpse of what was once a young and sturdy night elf lie in wait, never moving, never breathing...
----
And somewhere far, far away, to the distant north, along a coast long-forgotten by most living in Azeroth, a tattered, aged scroll fell gently to the deserted sands.
Mostly deserted, that was.
A lone murloc pattered along the shoreline, in search of any remaining edible, non-contaminated food with little luck. His bulging eyes took in the scroll's descent, watching it fall to the ground, and he scampered to it, pausing a foot or two away, cocking his head and swaying side to side, considering.
Two moments later, the only thing left was a set of muddy prints, the echoes of wet and hurried footsteps, and what might have been an indentation of something once lying on the sand, slowly being washed away by the lapping waves of the northern oceans.
----
The great one, the Eldest, the wisest of Those That Were Left lay on a bed of soft seaweed, his breathing heavy, his eyes dim with age. One of The Few Left Behind scuttled into the room, bleating a greeting of utmost respect, and held before him a scroll, with trembling, slippery fingers. "Mrrrrgllllmrrrgleaaac!" - Eldest! I have found something of importance, sent to us from the Gods themselves! It fell from the sky!- He exclaimed, gulping feverishly with unbridled glee, and the Eldest stirred restlessly, laboriously sitting up, gasping for breath and taking the scroll with wizened, shaking hands. His eyes fairly bulged from their sockets as he took in the language before him, the recipe clearly legible on the deteriorating piece of parchment. He paused, then read again. And again. And after reading it yet another time, finally, he spoke.
"Mmrrgl." - Take me to them.- He intoned, beginning to rise, the young one hurriedly reaching to assist him.
And the two walked through the cavernous tunnels of the Dark Under The Ocean, their footsteps echoing coolly in the dim light, and as they walked, a few others saw, and they followed, and a few more, until at last the Eldest reached his destination, and upon reaching it turned to see all of The Few Left Behind huddled against each other behind him, watching in wary...hope.
The doors were pulled open, and he strode with more energy than he had felt in decades, into the still-silent cavern of Those Who Had Gone.
Chamber after chamber after chamber of bodies, cool and preserved in the depths of their home. Chamber after chamber of opportunity.
Eldest nodded, then turned to the hopeful, wondrous eyes of the remnants of his tribe.
"Mrrglemmmmrrrrrgla."
-Go, Young Ones. Go and bring Eldest this...morrowgrain. Bring it to me, and Those Who Have Gone shall rise and become Those Who Live Again...-
----
And on the shores of a land that once was glorious, splendid, golden and full of life, on the shores of a land now beaten by the very Scourge that plagued the southern lands long, long ago, the pattering feet of the Grimscale once more sent terror into the hearts of those that beheld them...
End