A Return "Home"

[Immermnemion Dawnbringer]

((To understand this story fully, you should read Immermnemion's biography first.))



       Having to scale back operations in Northrend due to shortness of bodies, Immermnemion returned “homeâ€

[Immermnemion Dawnbringer]

      Immermnemion had plenty of time to think on his way to the settlement. Adabar knew the way, the loyal steed needing little direction from his master. The climate was mild. As the travellers penetrated the Thalassian Pass, Immermnemion's mind wandered to memories from around a year ago, though his destination was orgininally someplace else...









      The young judge trotted into Hammerfall, accompanied by his escort. He knew the greenskins did not care much for him, but they obeyed well enough.

      The futility of these errands cannot be visible to me alone; surely the captain will see it as well.

      Sent as a courier - a courier! -, Immermnemion dismounted his charger within the settlement. The beaurocrats in Silvermoon had questioned the necessity of the Ghostlands needing a judiciary at all while Immermnemion was away. Upon his return, he found he'd arrived just in time to pull the strings necessary to possibly save his position. It probably shouldn't exist, but he would not give up his influence so easily. Unfortunately, his contacts couldn't do everything; he had to make himself seem an indispensable asset to the upper councils. One of the members in his favor suggested he be a herald of sorts for a time to gain some interracial ties - something his people as a whole greatly lacked.

      His guard already dispersing, the denizens of the forward base who were outside focused on him - though they knew of the alliances, Blood Elves, in presence, were still alien as allies to many of these people. With a sigh as he walked to the medical "center," Immermnemion knew he did not come as the bearer of change.





      "No reinforcements?! You cowards will be the loss of the territory. Our farms are raided constantly, and our patrol losses grow daily!" shouted the Orcish captain. Indeed, his people's unavailablility to assist in Arathi was quite underwhelming, even to the judge. The land was rich in resources, and in addition, the choke point of the Southern bridge would be a potent asset to control. Alas, the commanders apparently felt solid troop deployments to the North were far more critical. While there was wisdom in recognizing the threat in the Scourge, so many organizations had sprung up to fight them, they would meet resistance enough.

      "We feel your plight, captain. However, scouts' reports indicate a similar situaion for our enemies here: They are focusing on the North; not much new blood has been seen in their forces." The accuracy of the report was visible enough firsthand as his retinue had moved through the zone; no Alliance expansion was visible. Even if they wanted to, Immermnemion doubted their manpower to hold their claims - it would be a poor tactical move to stretch themselves thin. "The lack of forces to advance on either side will force a stalemate. Though it may be frustrating, you will hold your position."

      The captain paced in anger as Dr. Victor spoke, poorly with his rotting jaw. "Justice Dawnbringer, our abilities here to sustain the troops are limited. In time, our forces will dwindle, and we will be vulnerable."

      "As is our ability to send them, Doctor. We have great faith in your abilities here. Their aptitude to fight is likely strained as well - it will be a matter of deterrence until support arrives, though it pains us to say none is scheduled to arrive for now." The same useless message every time.

      Watching the medical staff working furiously, Immermnemion felt a pang of sadness about the whole situation. The coordination between parties in the war was poor - concentrated efforts were rare. These costly stalemates were far too common. Watching a wounded soldier die at the end of the room - due to the overworked staff or severity of the injury - only built on his disposition toward the matter. What a waste.



      A mild breeze winded through the town in the late afternoon, refreshingly warm compared to the howling blasts in Northrend. "Not too different from a dragonhawk, you say?" Immermnemion spoke to the flight master of the small settlement to clarify how one of the beasts would handle - he'd never used one before. Part of his trip he willingly accepted was to act as an ambassador to the Revantusk tribe - a role he would happily keep. It had been too long since he'd seen his surrogate community; he was anxious to pay them the first visit since his departure years ago. He relished the thought of seeing Kul'dilev again. Saddling up, he was soon off. The animal strained a bit more than a dragonhawk did, but its powerful wingstrokes kept it aloft and moving at a good clip.



      Arriving on the beach South of the village, he walked his wyvern slowly down the shorline. The tribe wouldn't be able to tell if he was friend or foe from a distance - the Elven form meant nothing due to the betrayers of his people residing in the vicinity at the lodge, unfortunately. He didn't want to startle the guards. Sure enough, spearmen guarded the town's entrance with zeal. Immermnemion halted his approach when he was within earshot.

      In their native tongue, Immermnemion called to them. "Is that how you greet Immermnemion? I'll have to have a word with the elders...."

      "Immah!" One of the guards replied. Though it took him a moment to recognize the voice, he remembered it as Razka, one of the Trolls he'd befriended in his stay. Trotting his wyvern in closer, Razka closed the gap to him. "It's been so long, mon - ah be missin' ya!" Razka had gained muscle in the past years while Immermnemion had lost it. Entering the town together, the two caught each other up on a few past events. After his flier was stabled, Razka walked him up to the Elders' hut.





      Despite the kidnapping of the elder's husband while he was away, Immermnemion found little had changed with the village. No significant attacks had been attempted on it since the kidnapping, and their anglers performed their functions unabated. Though the Vilebranch, Witherbark, and Alliance outposts remained in existence, they kept on their side of the Overlook Cliffs. The elders - getting on in their years - were more than happy to have Immermnemion as an ambassador. Immermnemion had realized over the past years they had came to see him as a second son. They swelled with pride when he told them of his judgeship, and, in turn, offered to send one of their own to Silvermoon.

      "I thought you felt such use of diplomats was unnecessary? That's quite the change of heart."

      The chieftain responded with his classifying absence of heavy accent, "We be close to you. Immer. If you be in their rule, we be trusting you to make use of a messenger."

      In seeing how much faith the couple placed in him, Immermnemion was genuinely flattered - the first incidence in a long while. He could feel himself blushing as he quickly spoke. "I will see the position is not a lame one." He smiled back at their grins. Business was over. "Where's Kul'dilev?"




      Silence.




      Then, "We knew you'd ask about him..... we don't know."

      Immermnemion felt the blush quickly reverse, the blood now draining from his face.

      The matriarch spoke. "'e disappeahed all o' ah sudden un day, little ovah a yeah ago. Da best trackahs not be findin' 'im, but dey also not be findin' da sign o' any attackahs. 'is pupils also not be knowin' wat 'appened to 'im."

      Feeling weak, the young judge looked out over the ocean at the beautiful colors of the sky at sunset. He didn't see the beauty in them tonight. "What about Stra'tos?"

      "The Darkspear left us more recently. He stayed long enough to train some others in Kul'dilev's ways. There be a few apprentices in the tribe now," spoke the chieftain.




      Hearing little of the subsequent conversation as his mind was awash with memories of his missing instructor, he took his leave with Razka to go one of the places they used to frequent - the coast North of the waterfall. The water was as cold as he remembered, the grass as green, and the shadows the cliffs cast during twilight were just as awe-inspiring as they were before. At least some things didn't change. After the swim, Immermnemion and Razka huddled next to each other for warmth as they had years ago. Though Immermnemion learned the incantations for a basic fire in his years here and Razka surely had the survival skills to make one from nature, the two had always preferred each others' bodies instead. Immermnemion stared out over the placid water, and a silence ensued between them. Razka broke the ice.

      "Ahm sorry, mon. Ah know ya be missin' 'im - ah do too."

      Immermnemion replied in an even tone. "I know, Raz. I just .... I wasn't expecting it to end like this though."

      Feeling a tusk comb through his hair followed by breath on his head, Immermnemion knew Razka was looking down at him as they sat together. "Who says it be da end, mon? Dat tome 'e be carryin' around also be missin'. Maybe 'e just 'ad ta leave in a hurry."

      Not having been privy to this fact, Immermnemion turned to look up at Razka, his eyes wide. "His tome was missing too?"

      "Ya."

      "He was never without that book." His mind raced. Immermnemion knew the odds of his teacher being alive had just gone from ridiculous to realistic. "He's still with it, wherever he is. But why would he go so quickly?"

      Razka gazed back into his eyes, a familiar memory to Immermnemion. The Troll's lime hair was drying from the swim, it's natural volume beginning to return. He blinked, though he kept his sights on the Elf's eyes still when they reopened."Ah don't know, mon."

      His moment of hope was trumped by a realization of fear. "Someone wanted the tome." Immermnemion continued to think aloud. "They wanted it, tried to take it, but.... he wouldn't let them have it. So they had to take him along with it - or he had to escape."

      "Don' be getting worked up - ya don' know dat."

      "What else could it be, Raz? He wouldn't abandon the village." Immermnemion began to weep as he felt a wave of helplessness hit him. He didn't know how to help, and he didn't even know what happened so that he could begin to find out how - if it was even possible.

      Razka pulled him tight against his chest. "Doncha worry - it'll be okay, Immah."




      The Elf continued to cry.









      As he became aware of his surroundings again, Immermnemion realized he was also crying now. Adabar had stopped, seeming to worry about his master. After a moment, the two pressed on through the plaguelands. The visit now seemed bittersweet.

[Immermnemion Dawnbringer]

       Reaching the overlook cliffs, Immermnemion dismounted Adabar. Giving the loyal steed a kiss on the muzzle, he walked down on his own. The sky was overcast, the air unusually cool for this time of year. As the evening set in during his trip, he thought about those he knew in the village. Primal Torntusk had been a pillar of strength to the village for years. Her strictness and consistency held the Trolls together well, their position not being compromised to the Dwarves, but rather, ironically, only to his own people.

      As he rounded the bend in the path downward, Immermnemion noticed priest’s crown sprouting against the cliff’s wall. Such a tenacious flower. He squatted down next to it, the bottom of his cloak draping along the ground. It was already shutting itself off to the world for the evening, the petals turning up slightly at the edges. Though he found its golden color beautiful, most felt the thing a worthless weed. Immermnemion felt the Revantusk were much like the wildflower, not being appreciated for their character,  but instead lumped together with the rest of the tribes of discord, just another unsightly weed to be pulled. He wondered briefly if the matriarch or the flower had more days left among the living. Sighing in thought, he smiled down at the delicate piece of life before him, and, for a moment, the breath’s force caused the dandelion to oscillate, almost seeming to respond to him. Ready to move on, Immermnemion stood and continued to the village. In the nook on the leeward side of the cliff, no wind fueled the flower’s ability to respond.



      “Ah be glad jou be comin’ ta see me,â€