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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Creativity Forum --> Personal Creations --> Art of Yanamari
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    Messages in Art of Yanamari
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Karma: 36/1
171 Posts

Siol, continued

What can be said of our elders? They have seen the turning of the seasons and years as a string of events without numbers or scripted dates. Mother always forgot. Everything. Something specific, like a smell or area could dredge up something in her noggin when I was young. But these days, I fear speaking with her. Not so much forgetting as remembering. Perhaps I should have left her to the dark of not knowing. I can be such a fool. ~ torn page bound with others, found in Forest Song's rubble by Draenei salvage team

The war of snow and stone remained eternal. Despite the wetness of flake, or age of rock, the path ever southward would not be lost. Some magic remained from ages long lost to keep it this way. And yet, change made its mark as only the tips of broken arches and buildings could be discerned from the deeper drifts. As if the land hungered...or the legacy of Kaldorei simply wished to disappear form the landscape.

The world tired from the toil of existence.

Bounding through the drifts, Sauno stopped often to wait for the others to arrive. Either they were patient or simply dragging paws to keep from the destination. Whatever may be, the constant lagging back gave a crease of annoyance to her brow. Should I pry?
"We arrive when we will, not when we must." The words seemed a whisper, but harsh in edge of finality to end the girl's agitation. Siol watched the pommel of her saddle, moving in tune with the clip and clop of her talbuk's gait. If only it would slow to a stop, or turn abruptly. Giants once roamed the area, taking the land the Kaldorei scouts once ruled. Perhaps they would find a reason to way lay the travellers.

When the stag and cats stopped, she knew the moment past. Too late to turn without seeming foolish, the elderly eyes moved slowly from the shined pommel of saddle, following the blueblack stones of road, ending upon the crags of the gorge. A place no snow fall nor flower would lie. A land fevered from an illness of possession.

Everything was wrong.

"Theo--" The word died in her mouth, bitter as lime gone to rot. He was not with them. No longer. When? Her eyes clouded as the answer came. The choking of smoke as they sat among fires, planning with others. They despised the interlopers and defilers now embraced as allies in the war to come. Too long had she warred; hatred as fiery as love in her breast. They shared no tender moments before the finality. No one ever thought truly death awaited. That was for beasts hunted for meals and the races not graced by Elune's light.

"Elune's light shone so brightly. Your hair, it glowed. Glow..." Her voice trailed off as her fingers twitched. Some sound beyond the gorge of rock grinding and falling matching the memory of his arms twisted strangely, a cloven hoof upon them, her throat was raw...why? Screams. But his or her own, she could never remember.

A twitch captured her fingers again. The shiver running along her arm until something grasped her. The movement was fluid. Without thought, she drug the enemy to the snows, puffs of white gathering in her vision. Something choked for breath, clawing at her arms, scratching her face. Siol snarled, seeking a weapon yet finding nothing. Her teeth. Ripping the throat would work. Even they needed air!
Fur rippled in place of flesh, and the huntress was tumbled as easily as a child's doll. The bear of shaggy grey and luminous symbols of the circle pinned her into the drifts.

"CALM, SIOL! I am Sauno. You are here. Not there, not then. Peace..." They both coughed, unable to meet the other's eyes.

Turning, crawling about on hands and knees, Siol sought the stub of firebloom. Sticking it betwixt her teeth, she sought a long, hard pull. "I have a feeling, this was a bad idea, Sauno." Falling back in the snow, arms flailed to her sides, she simply heaved smoke tinged air.

Watching the gorge, nose twittering with scents, the bear nodded. "Now you tell me..."

There was comedy there, somewhere. Siol laughed.

* * *

Case: 243
Patient: Night Elf 34 or 134, Siol
Illness: Lunatic from the battlefield, the usual

She has burns, cuts, breaks. Oh fel. Give her something to just shut her up. Three red. Two blue. And a mallet to the cranium. I need out of this outfit.
~ patient notes from the medical journals of Dr. Olivia Thurston, Medivac four, Hyjal

They lost their mounts somewhere in the first turn of crags. Battleworn, but not battle weary. The stag charged and died. For a moment, the bleating could have been a battle cry. Siol did not have time to notice.

"Just like then, fel guards. Always the fel damned guards." Landing hard behind a boulder, Siol turned to Sauno. Gold and green filled the hollow they lurked in, the magics of her kind to heal and mend. Pity, they never work well enough.
The moment of healing light, the glory of nature rushing as something molten and gentle in her veins made the world almost painful to return to. Sauno missed her chance for the dream. So many did. Every spell cast became a bitter acknowledgement of the world she was stuck in. "Do you think he made it?"

The huntress tilted her head, long ears flicking to hear. The grunts of demon greeted them. "Fel guard." A scrabbling of stones. "Fighting." A long series of screeches and cries that sounded as wind driven too quickly between fissures of ice or a baby twisted up tight in a blanket. "Shar."


Siol glanced back at Sauno, hair a halo pale and silvered about her head. Memories waited. She could not let them pounce. "Shar."

Grasping a horn from with a pack, Siol yanked free a gargantuan piece of mail. Something of the eyes seemed dead. Sauno shook her head, fanning that hair, her father's gift about her head. Were those tears in her eyes? " there has to be another way."

"Give me my ammo." The helm slid home, catches making contact with the rest of her armor. The set almost complete. It took a year to remove it the last time. So many things sacrificed for it. Not from some strange enchant. Only Siol's wretched stubborness and deadly aim.

The eyes flared into lurid green life.



Siol lifted her gun, sliding home a line of bullets that gleamed like quicksilver.


The screeches began turning far more shrill.


Sauno never got to three.

Siol was gone, slipping into the mists of their kind, to take careful aim. The moments so quick became slow. Vision slipping past the boulder, the dust of their long dead hazing the air, the claws and whipping tail of her raptor companion, she spied it. The shot rang out to land hollow and thick.

Another, and another, slid free from the chamber as a beast given reign to dine and kill. Each blast rocked the creature back a bit. Just the openning the raptor needed to slide teeth and foreclaws deeper within the chitenous armor, the braiding of muscle. They both sought the heart. Wherever it may be.

Someone was screaming. Nearby. Death was coming quickly now to the demon. Siol should seek the survivor. The haze became thicker, darker. She returned again. The battle front of demonic filth faultered. No one knew why. But every one of the Kaldorei fell to their knees. They knew. The clarion call could be felt. Dismay filled them for being cheated this chance to fulfill every dream given by Cenarius. Joy cascaded beyond it for the end of the suffering.

The others laid in honor and prayer. Looking to the skies. Seeking some wisdom in the marked moment. Not noticing the first twinge of true pain to wrack their bodies. But Siol did not fall and stay. Someone screamed. She had to find them.

The pale locks laid in a river of sweat and blood. The silver dappled in hues like the horses hides of the humans. Spotted, gleaming, yet far too red, too wet. His eyes closed. Life had been slipping from him from a wound. She laid him here for tending. Words had left her, not kind but hard. She would not stay with him, but would fight on in his stead. The horn claimed him. He. Hers.

But these tresses, so like his, did not lay flat but shivered. Eyes clearing within the helm, Siol finally left that past for the present. Her fingers twisted and curled in the hair, turning a face upwards. "Daughter...forgive me."

Goodbyes had been said.

Posted on 2008-02-14 at 18:14:10.

RDI Staff
Karma: 36/1
171 Posts

Siol, final

Case: 243
Patient: Siol
Illness: damned looney

I keep sending her away. She keeps coming back. Have to ween her off the blue ones, too addictive. Seen it before, but not like this. The elf gets nothing from it, just pops the damn pills, keeps getting the shakes. Damn elves, no idea what this does to the system, or symptoms to watch for. But she started talking. I'm a doctor, not a priest or bartender. I wish she'd go away.
~ patient notes from the medical journals of Dr. Olivia Thurston, Medivac four, Hyjal

One moment, she felt warm, cozy and safe. Images of wandering a house, the scents of cooking, the smiles of friends roamed her thoughts. The next, she felt cold and bent painfully. Something dug into her back, seeking her spleen. The world exploded in stars as her eyes cracked open.

Siol had run off. Again.

"Mystic threads of...ow...nature come...gah...and grant my damn head peace." The green gold glow filled her hands, sharp and strange. The pain subsided, but could not leave Sauno. The spell never worked right when she cursed. "Unholy fel, I can't believe I let her get away." Gingerly, she sought the spot behind her head where the huntress clunked her. "What did she smack me with? I don't recall a rock or stick."

Rising from the dust, clarity returned as blood flowed naturally again. Running fingers from her temples to her cheeks, Sauno stared into the distance. "She called me..." Flesh gave way to fur in the quickness of a falling star. Paws dug into the rubble and parched ground, following the remnants of demonic chains, binding remaining from their journeys back to the abyss that spawned them. Without the trail, she would never find Siol.

Deeper the twists and turns took her, causing hackles to rise of their own accord. The air here remained hushed, waiting. The way of the dead had always remained shut. The druid could only hope Siol had not found the key.

* * *

The pillars stood against the darkened past, a testament to the travesty that had visited, considered the gorge a nice place to stay, and thus made a home. Siol ran her gloved hands over the worn ridges of sigils. Histories painfully documented since the fall, to teach, to provide. Here, the battles that flared in cities. The line of words followed by accounts of burning skies and forests awakening in a strange, unforgiving way. The Kaldorei had lifetimes of guilt and trespass to atone for.

Yet in the next phrase, that would speak of the sundered nights, a thick nail had been driven deeply. Chains tattered and twisted snaked from it. The weight of metal links dreadfully strong. What once was bound had broken away as a wild cat from a tangle of yarn. Simple. Powerful. Yet the other thoughts crawling through her head, the lessons learned in Nagrand, spoke otherwise.

"Even the damned use their own in dark vigil and ceremony. Evil consumes itself. It knows itself." Tapping the nail with her gun, a sudden feeling prickled her skull. Twisting, she fired a round. Keenly had he grasped the barrel and turned it away before the mark was made.

His eyes bore into hers, harder than she could ever hope to be herself. Braids of pale green wrapped tightly about each other, forming knots, much like the etching into his armor. "Moon." Did her voice waver?

"Leaf." He needed to say nothing more. Tones and meaning laid in his stance, her nickname among them, the way he glowered.

"I should know better. But damn, I need to see it for myself." She tried to pull the gun back, knowing the heat of it must sear his hand. Siol may as well have been trying to tickle an ogre for the purchase she made.

He nodded.

"But the way is shut. Always has been. Does that mean I shouldn't try?" She did not watch him. She felt the nod.

A growl threatened, roiling in her gut. She hated knowing they were all right. And she was the idiot fighting still for no good reason.

"Do you ever return to your true home? Stand among the pillars and archways? Dream of seeing your mother and father in toil as you went about duties?"

Color drained from her face. She breathed thanks for having her helm on. "No."

"This is no different. He would be upset to find you here."

Huffing, Siol relented. For a moment, Moon seemed shocked. His left eyebrow moving ever so slightly.

"I don't have any more wars. The Circle hasn't needed me for a time. Many come to their aid. Darnassus has dozens rising to aid. For once, I don't know what to do."

"Do nothing."

They stared at each other for a time. Slow grins etched along their faces.

Gravel and bones skittered at their feet as a barreling ball of fur arrived. Leaping from paws to feet, Sauno faced the elders. Hands found her hips, anger swam in her eyes, and indignate seemed appropriate for describing her mood.

They just stood there before Sauno, grinning, hanging out like a couple kids around the pools of Astranaar.

"What took you so long? We're leaving."

In unison, they snatched up glow stones to travel away. Sauno simply looked rooted to the spot, ears dropping in confusion. As they disappeared, she just snorted. "Return. Seek. Leave. Come along. What am I? Their servant? GAH!"

And so that's when I decided to return. Not so glorious, but well enough. Perhaps you have some things needing tending? Books lost or scrolls to track down? Just, no more furbolgs. I've had enough of those wars to fill two lifetimes.

Did you hear, Larion? The draenei have been digging and researching Forestsong. Seems they are felbent on rebuilding the place. I wonder what they'll find.

You destroyed those letters..didn't you?

~ Letter from Siol the Leaf to Larion of Darnassus

Posted on 2008-02-14 at 18:15:31.

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