Grim Views

The guild hall was often quiet at night, except on full moons it seemed. Activity could be found at nearly all hours of the evening, though tonight it appeared as if most had retired for the evening or were out and about elsewhere. The halls were darkened and the only sounds where the steady stomps of Awatu's hooves on the stone floor. He tried to be quiet, but it is rather difficult to be soft-footed when one has hooves. He had resigned himself to the fate of staying the night inside after checking into his seldom-used office for any paperwork that still needed to be done. Perhaps his least-favorite part of the job was the occasional paperwork. Typically mundane notes regarding property taxes, property damage, and property missing. Being the head of a rather diverse organization of thieves, soldiers, arcanists, madmen, cuthroats, fanatics, and Goblins did have the downside of occasionally piling up a lot of dust needing to be swept under a rug.

So, heaving the fifth sigh of the evening since entering the halls, he came upon the door to his office, unlocked the two locks, disabled a rather weak magical seal, lifted the door slightly off of a broken hinge so that it would not get caught on that one damned high cobblestone, and entered. Nothing of great importance was ever kept in this office, despite the status of the current and previous owners. It was really just a room of rather boring and mundane books, ledgers, scrolls, quills, ink, and stale air. All of the information that could be found inside was rather inconsequential or simply common sense to anyone with half of a brain. It also served as a repository for the mail amongst the officers. Most of it was junk, but at times something interesting or useful would find its way to the small desk. Small for a Tauren, anyway.

Sure enough, there was a small stack of sealed envelopes and scrolls on the desk. Tightening his lips into a grimace and lighting some of the lanterns along the wall, Awatu steeled himself for one of the most daunting challenges ever placed before him: sorting the mail. Charging headlong into Ironforge? Easy. Battling hordes of Mogu, mantid, and yaungol? No problem. Balancing a tax ledger and sorting through personal mail? Earthmother help him. It was not that he found reading and writing difficult, even on such tiny paper. On the contrary, it was one of the first things he learned when he studied the Orcish language. Reading and writing were actually some of his favorite hobbies during the sparse amounts of downtime available to him. It was just so abysmally DULL to balance the coffers, taxes, claims, and anything else that found its way to this ill-begotten room of horrors and ink.

He sifted through the scrolls and envelopes, sorting them into piles that he could tackle individually. Starting with the largest pile and working down to the smallest had always been the easiest method. Luckily there was not much and he could be leaving within the hour if nothing too complicated shows up in the numbers. He had just begun sorting through the scrolls when he found one that made him freeze. Every other piece of paper and parchment were left forgotten as his eyes widened at the small leather scroll bound in a black length of vine. He knew what he held without even needing to open it. Someone had died, which was not all that uncommon. But this was not just someone. These were the traditional scrolls sent between Tauren tribes to announce the death of family. And now, Awatu was puzzled. His family had already passed, so why would he be receiving an invitation to the funeral? Untying the vine and unfurling the scroll, he read what was written in Taur-ahe.

Elder Awatu of the Stonespire,

It is with deepest sympathy that we inform you that, under the Light of Mu'sha, on the eleventh night of this cycle, Ithawasa of the Wildmane passed in his sleep into the eternal embrace of the Earthmother. His remains have been elevated upon the scaffold nearest his dwelling in Camp Mojache, as per the customs of the Wildmane. As one of his next-of-kin and a tribal elder, we of the Wildmane ask that you attend to his funeral rites along with his remaining relatives.

Wildmane traditions will override Stonespire traditions. Any Grimtotem relations will not be tolerated. We hope your understand.

In sympathy, blessed by the Eyes of the Earthmother, Elder Kym Wildmane.

The Wildmane Tribe is a widespread tribe, having traveled from the now-lush hills of Desolace to the frigid forests of Winterspring. Originally descending from small clans in Desolace, they were driven out by the centaur clans near Maraudon. Over time, they mingled with other tribes and spread across the continent of Kalimdor. It was not until recently, with the support of the Horde, that Shu'halo grounds have been reclaimed. However, many Wildmane had found new homes across the land and did not feel the ancestral pull to return home. They remained where they had been settled for many generations and were content to write a new chapter in Wildmane history with the bountiful prospects of the Horde to support them.

Ithawasa was one such Shu'halo, preferring to remain with his closest kin in Feralas among the Runetotem and Swiftstrider tribes. He was reclusive, keeping to himself on the edge of the wilds in the deep hills. Some were concerned for his safety with ogres and bandits skulking through the territory, but he was a Druid of the Wild and a swift death would come to any who threatened his humble tent.

Awatu reflected on these facts as he flew towards Camp Mojache. His destination was still a long distance out and he would not be reaching it before An'she's rising. He may even miss the ceremony. No effort to hasten the pace was made. He had little desire to be part of another funeral, especially someone he only marginally knew. Were there that few Wildmane left that they were calling in loose family relations for mourners? Unlikely, but he remained puzzled as to why he was asked to join. Ithawasa was family, but only barely so. Mosty through old tribal unions that persisted for a few generations. Some manner of great uncle twice over. Perhaps the family lines recrossed at some point? Questions will be asked of Elder Kym on his arrival.

The edges of An'she's rays arose on the horizon, marking the landscape with stark shadows in the fogs of early light. A brief stop for rest and breakfast and soon he will be out of The Barrens and over the still-flooded Thousand Needles. With the wind at his back, he would reach Camp Mojache by dusk and see what manner of death had befallen his kin.

Elder Kym was already waiting when Awatu arrived. She held her staff close, the many feathers adorning it giving the impression that it was purely ceremonial and not suited for combat. She wore no armor, only the loose linens and hides typical of a Seer with many beads, feathers, and baubles hanging from strands of leather. Her hair, like most Wildmane, was a light color mottled with greyish-tan spots and markings. She watched with a neutral expression as Awatu dismounted and motioned to greet her.

"We welcome your presence, Elder" she said with a short bow. Awatu gave her a respectful bow, but said nothing further. He moved past her towards the outskirts of the camp, heading for the burial grounds where the body was likely being kept. She fell into step just behind him, her eyes staying fixed on him as he walked. "I know this must be troubling for you... Very few mourners have come to see his spirit off. We are pleased that a few of his relations could travel out this far." It was only troubling for him for the simple fact that he was, more or less, obligated to show himself. He would have rather sent a bundle of flowers in an urn of oils than show up himself, but being an Elder for this ceremony held greater weight than normal. A ceremony that he knew Ithawasa would not care for. The old Druid would have preferred to be buried under a tree and be done with it. Of course, with the rise of the Scourge not long ago the Shu'halo have taken to burning the remains of the departed to avoid any necromantic occurrences. This made the whole burial process a complicated and sensitive affair with ancient traditions to ensure the deceased remained deceased.

Awatu did not glance back as he spoke. "How did he pass?" Kym bowed her head. "We believe it to have been age. It was simply his time to join the Earthmother." In these times, a natural death was very rare. Awatu had half-expected an Ogre raiding party, a group of bandits, or a tree falling on him as he slept. For the old Druid to have simply gone to sleep and not wake up was actually somewhat shocking.

As dusk fell, the darkness under the heavy canopy deepened. Awatu held a a hand out and a small yellow flame appeared, bringing much more light than its size should have produced. Kym's staff glowed faintly as a light-blue orb settled on the end. "I did not know you were a Sunwalker" she commented. Awatu ignored her attempt at small talk and continued walking down the road away from the camp.

The remainder of the walk was kept in silence, with Kym growing more uncomfortable with her companion's quiet demeanor. Was he distressed by the death of kin? Was he annoyed at the old Druid, or even herself? She simply fell into a quiet walk behind him as her fourth question earned no response. It would not be long before they arrive at the burial grounds and she gathered that Awatu was weary from his travel. He would not doubt prefer to end his duties for the day until tomorrow when they can put Ithawasa to rest.

Awatu, for his part, was glad when Kym finally stopped asking questions. While rude, he was only interested in commencing with the ceremony that very few cared about so that he could return to where he was needed. His mind drifted into recent happenings within The Grim and what he will need to do in the future when the totems that marked the edges of the burial grounds came into view. He did not stop and passed over the threshold, lighting a torch along the way with his magical flame. Kym hesitated and considered telling him to stop and show respect, but simply sighed and followed him in.

Stopping near the center, Awatu looked up to a tall scaffold built out of wood and bamboo, upon which rested the bundled remains of what was most likely Ithawasa, Druid of the Wild. Carrion birds had likely taken away most of the flesh, but some would still cling to the bones. "The Bonepicker will be by in the morning to remove the remaining flesh. Once he is done, we will burn the bones in the fire pit and wrap the ashes in hides. He will rest here, in peace" Kym said, bowing her head as she ended her explanation. Awatu knew the process in and out, and bit his tongue on a rather rude comment to interrupt her. She was only doing her job, and he would let her. He removed a small bundle of flowers and herbs from his pouch and set them alight on the torch. He waved the flaming bundle through the air, the thick smoke wafting through the stiff understory air and with it the scent of spices and incense. The bundle was tossed underneath the scaffold where it would smolder and burn for a few more hours. The smell would keep away any animals that seek one last chance to rummage through the corpse for any bit of meat left.

A few prayers were spoken, some elaborate gestures made, and Awatu turned to leave. Kym nodded in approval, and followed suit. The torch was snuffed out and as they left the burial grounds, Awatu spoke. "Did he have any heirs? A will for his kin?" Kym nodded. "Most of his belongings will go to his granddaughter. Your cousin twice over, if I have been told correctly. She was the only one who desired to learn the way of the Wilds from him, so she spent a lot of time with him during these past few years." Good. He would not need to arrange for the transportation of the old Druid's belongings to Bloodhoof Village. This cousin will likely be at the ceremony tomorrow, and she will likely have many questions for her new-found relative. Awatu withheld a groan at the prospect of mingling with some youngling calf with questions of her extended family.

((Wow, well written. But he likes celebrations? Could have fooled me!))

Lilliana wrote:((Wow, well written. But he likes celebrations? Could have fooled me!))

((A funeral isn't really a celebration one would become excited about.))

Awatu wrote:

Lilliana wrote:((Wow, well written. But he likes celebrations? Could have fooled me!))

((A funeral isn't really a celebration one would become excited about.))

[[ One could make the argument that if anyone was going to, it might be the Commander of The Grim! ]]