#eleneill

Alorinis did not need to yell or issue command, his forces already knew what to do under his leadership. The thrum of dozens of bows sounded behind Alorinis, arrows filling the air around him as they rushed towards demons. Some of the demons fell back to a defensive position, organizing into a semblance of safety. Some of the demons fell to the ground, bodies dissolving to ash. The Grove Wardens did not need to hear the command to charge and push the attack, Alorinis’ tactics were understood by each of them intimately. Bows were traded for swords and spears, formations shaping as they moved forward to attack the demons. Alorinis did not wait for the formations to be made, knowing his forces would be at his heels.

Greensmith’s hardened bough slammed through the shield of the first demon among the defense, leaving the demon open for the punch Alorinis threw at its face. The axe of the demon next to it raised up and slashed down at Alorinis, caught by the blade of a warden’s spear. His forces coming on in full against the demons left Alorinis able to go after his primary target, the Shivarra.

The blades of the Shivarra slashed through the air, crashing into the study body of Greensmith as Alorinis shoved back at the demon in hopes of sending her off balance. A quick back step put the Shivarra on balance again, swords swinging low and stabbing forward in an attempt to wound Alorinis’ stomach. Greensmith came down, pressing against the top of the blades. Normally the move would have just directed the blades towards Alorinis’ legs, threatening to cripple him or worse, but Alorinis’ legs were no longer on the ground. As Greensmith had come down to press on the swords, Alorinis had begun to roll forward and send his feet into the air as he propelled himself into a flip forward. Both of his feet snapped out, colliding with the Shivarra’s face and separating her from her swords. Alorinis’ stomach curled inward, his chest rising up to continue his roll towards the Shivarra. His gauntlet, shaped from the same tree that had given him Greensmith, sharpened as his fingers extended forward like a spear. His arm rushed forward, weaponized fingers puncturing the skin of the Shivarra’s long neck and tearing through the opposite side.

Demonic anatomy did not dictate that the original denizens of the Twisting Nether required things such as air to breathe nor a neck to inhale with, which the Shivarra could have used to her advantage with the ranger trapped by his arm lodged in her throat if her opponent had not been Alorinis Bloodarrow. A youth spent among demons and learning about them and a life time fighting them had given him the experience to know that a demon did not die solely by cutting their throat, so his stabbing of the Shivarra’s neck had not been the deathblow but rather the opening he needed. Natural energy began to flood out of his gauntlet, stored there during his time on Azeroth in preparation for the dead world of Argus, and poured into the demon’s body. Fel and Life were not opposites among the natures of magic, but nor were they powers that easily melded. All too often they fought and battled by habit, the stronger power overcoming the weaker and devouring it. As Alorinis poured in the wealth of magic stored in his armor he could feel the fel of the demon being overwhelmed, destroying her physical form and returning her to a spirit of the Twisting Nether.

His arm retracted as he stood up from what remained of the demon’s body, just the head of the Shivarra, and observed his forces. The small force of demons had been easily overwhelmed in the chapel, piles of ashes and left behind armor scattering the floor. Some of his forces had been wounded, but he saw none dead among the assault; always good news to have none dead. His eyes turned to the south, beyond the walls of Antorus, to where he knew Eleneill had been leading her contingent, and wondered how their luck had turned.

The demons are dyin’ in herds before us, they won’t last the day, if that. Eleneill said telepathically to Alorinis, as if she knew he was thinking about her. There’s more runnin’ to the north, trying to board one of their ships, I’m thinkin’. Want to go take them out?

I will send my forces to join your own, and I shall join you soon after, my love. Alorinis thought in reply, turning to signal to the wardens.

“Move out and join forces with the Queen of Storms to the south. Prepare your attacks made for distance and boarding maneuvers, as you will be assaulting Legion ships,” Alorinis ordered to the forces, which began to immediately gather into formation and leave the chapel.

“Without the Fel the Shadow shall consume you,” hissed a voice from behind Alorinis.

Alorinis spun around in shock, Greensmith’s leaves fanning out to form the shape of an axe, preparing for an attack from an unnoticed assailant. Instead of a new enemy Alorinis found an old one, the head of the slain Shivarra looking back to him. The creature was holding fast to the last threads of its connection to the plane of the living, seeming content to mock its killer before returning to the Twisting Nether. Alorinis relaxed his grip on Greensmith and knelt down besides the head, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You are not the Fel, demon. You are only a poor practitioner of the magic, who has used it in the following of a deranged Titan to bring genocide upon the worlds. The Fel and Shadow will survive past you, but those like you who use it to bring war will be removed. Your legion will fall into disarray as your leader is jailed, and your kin will flee back to the Twisting Nether as the chaos reigns,” Alorinis replied with a derisive snort.

“We will return to the Twisting Nether, to those who we worshiped before our Master came to find us.” A sinister smirk crept upon the Shivarra’s face, “She among them. Meanwhile you and your kin will be set upon by terrors you can not fathom, and you will die for it. We shall only watch from the beyond, laughing in knowledge that you have brought this upon yourself.”

Alorinis offered only a roll of his eyes, standing up from the floor of the chapel and turning to the doors. He would follow his plans to rejoin the forces of The Grove and secure the rest of the stronghold before turning to the ships to return home. The warning from the Shivarra of a worse enemy on the horizon faded from his mind quickly, but the words regarding where the demons would return to in the absence of Sargeras left him concerned. Visions of statues from his childhood filled his mind along side the concerns of certain enemies growing more bold and dangerous. Matters he would have to remain concerned with.

Eleneill had been the first of The Grove to respond to the threat of the Burning Legion, riding out into the Foothills with her force of Storm Guard, she rebuked the first of many invasions that crept closer to Quel’Thalas. Following her example Alorinis had risen the remainder of The Grove’s forces into action, moving them forward to establish War Camp Elbethon, named after the tree that served as home to the leadership of The Grove. Brought together the power of The Grove was impressive, but still tiny compared to a force such as the Burning Legion. Alorinis had not let that deter them, using the advantages of their homeland to bolster the forces with him. With the citizens of The Grove hidden away in protected positions across Azeroth alongside a small percentage of his force, he had been able to call the majority might of the Grove Wardens to his side; thankfully he had been joined by the personal forces of some of his overseers, such as the Storm Guard, the Blackguard, the Good Clerics, Hand of Belore, and Flameriders. The other overseers had called for their personal forces to remain with them in defense of the civilians, but Alorinis was grateful for that as he would rather have his Grove Wardens at his disposal than defending civilians.

Even with the forces at his command, battling the invasions had been difficult. House Blackdawn and House Dawnstorm had been able to give them magic users to combat the Burning Legion at their most basic level, the fel magic they utilized, but the progress had been slow. Together they had been looking into ways to create barriers and other defenses to prevent the Legion from physically entering such spaces, their progress had been positive, but time hadn’t been on their side. The Good Clerics, alongside their overseer Speaker Sialon Del’nethar, had been providing the largest part of healing matters for the force, and doing their best to control the flow of soldiers afield and at rest. Together with the Storm Guard, the Blackguard, and the Hand of Belore, the Grove Wardens had been successfully rebutting the Legion invasions at each break.

He, Eleneill, and Adrya had spent many nights discussing the motivations of the Burning Legion. They all had experience with the forces, Adrya especially, but they found themselves confused more than not. The Burning Legion had advanced their invasion capabilities. Ships flew overhead. Structures rose from the ground in eruptions of fel and metal. Demons poured out in waves, coming until their portals could be destroyed. The problems had been in seeing the pacing, as if the Burning Legion had been holding back, waiting for something. They had suspected they were waiting for a full assault, when the whole of the Burning Legion would pour into Azeroth, but it hadn’t come yet. Still they debated. At the command table they were joined by the other overseers, the Warden Supreme, and commanders of personal forces. Together they debated more, trying to discern what the Legion intended. Still they were left with questions.

They had paid attention to how the world around them had changed. The Horde and the Alliance saw changes to leadership, changes to people. The orders that paid no heed to factions had risen again in strength, fighting beside Horde and Alliance alike; even Dalaran had returned to its neutral standing and moved to Karazhan, with the absence of Lady Jaina. Each piece of news brought details to them, but still they found questions. They had been like the rest of the world, watching and reacting, but not learning enough to predict.

Alorinis sat at the command table, fingers laced together as he watched outside of the tent. Soldiers flocked across his narrowed field of vision through the flaps. Supplies were carried, beasts were being herded, and wounded were being moved. Placing themselves along the border of Quel’Thalas and Lordaeron had served well for the purpose of defending against invasions, but not well in terms of their next phase of operation. Before him, on the table, laid a simple notice that had come from Quel’Thalas and changed everything.

Alorinis had prepared for War Camp Elbethon to remain for months or years, making a stand against the Burning Legion. It had turned out to be weeks before news from Dalaran had made every force change direction. When the news had reached their camp by way of a Thalassian courier, the command table had been full. Some argued against the orders, believing their best was served at defending the border. The rest had retorted that it was their duty to follow orders, and they could not risk leaving the forces without their support. In the end the three had decided, and when Alorinis, Adrya, and Eleneill agreed on a matter within The Grove, it was law. They were breaking down the camp and boarding ships, bound for the Broken Isles. There they would come to combat with the Burning Legion again, but now be seeking some artifacts called the Pillars of Creation. Alorinis did not know what these were, but he knew that Dalaran believed them crucial to the effort against the Burning Legion.

These Broken Isles were a new terrain, that was what bothered Alorinis the most. Near the border of Quel’Thalas they had the advantage. His soldiers knew these hills and plains like they knew their own names, they were prepared for any eventuality here. They were close to home, and better prepared to fight. Now they would be away from home, beset by new challenges. They did not know the inhabitants of these islands, nor the conditions of them. Draenor had been a war torn land with primal energies abounding, it had strengthened Alorinis and his forces, so entwined with natural energies. He did not know how the Broken Isles would be.

A gauntlet covered hand reached up, scratching against his cheek. The living wood against his skin felt natural now. The armor had served him better than expected against the demon army. It had been crafted out of living wood harvested from the great tree Elbethon where he had built the Emerald Palace, and it teemed with natural power that reacted valiantly against the fel energy of the Burning Legion. He had brought along the crimson and gold armor he wore as a representative of Quel’Thalas in war, but had elected against it in favor of his new armor. He would keep it in case it was needed, but for now his living armor served better.

The camp had grown more bare since the hours they had received the notice. The forces were gathering together and creating a caravan to the western shore of the Eastern Kingdoms. There they would join with the forces of Forsaken sailing to the Broken Isles, though aboard their own ships, and prepare again. The landing would likely be a tough battle, but they would soon establish a base camp alongside other forces. Dalaran itself had been talked of moving closer to the shores as well, which would provide the forces with an excellent location to center around. Alorinis did not intend to repeat the mistakes of Draenor, striking into an unknown territory without established base camps and preparations. He would enter the Broken Isles with The Grove at his command, and if he found the situation to grow desperate, he would again call The Dawnfury Concordant to command.

It was hours still before an attendant entered the tent, the colors of The Grove marked over his vest. He had come to begin the break down of the command tent, but was prepared to wait if the Grovekeeper needed time. Alorinis didn’t need more time, it would alone serve to delude him. He left the tent and allowed the attendants to begin breaking it down, preparing it for storage on their flagship that he, Eleneill, and Adrya would board. Coming outside was a bit of a shift. The camp was nearly empty now, they had waited last for his tent. Soldiers were scarce, what few remained were making way to join the caravan that already stretched to the horizon. Eleneill and Adrya had gone ahead with the soldiers, preparing the ships and organizing the people. Alorinis had stayed behind to draft a letter to be sent to his people in hiding, telling them to prepare to return to their homes, and of the hope they should keep as they returned to normal lives. The invasions would end likely when they reached the Broken Isles if the information from Dalaran was correct. He had ordered his Farstrider battalion to the border as a preventative measure, but if no invasion had broken for a solid week, they would notify his people to return to their homes. They would return to a normal and safe life, while Alorinis continued his normal and dangerous kind.

He rose up from the bed and pushed open the carriage door. Dellingr was the first to greet him, the enormous stormwolf giving a gruff growl in hello, and jerking its maw to the other wolves that had accompanied them on the trip. Members of the Pack taking to the Shire for extended time, some of them growing too old for the hard north, others just needing to switch out from their groups due to fighting or being ousted.

The air is cleaner here, Mate of She who is Mine. Where have we come? Alorinis looked to the quizzical stormwolf with a grin. "Quel'Althellien, a home to many of our exiled kin, and much of Eleneill's remaining family." The stormwolf sniffed the air greatly, sparks of lightning slinging from his nostrils with the intake. I like it here. "I am sure you do," Alorinis replied.

The carriage had come to rest before their house in the Shire, a comfortable home, albeit smaller than their manor in Grizzly Hills. Alorinis did muse to the idea of asking Eleneill to move here permanently. It would be closer to Quel'Thalas, and the children could be around more people. "Maybe one day," he said with a shrug as he moved to the door and made to push it open.

It swung open without his force, the air before him clean and empty of any creature to perform the act. Lower down though, it revealed the man. "Master Bloodarrow!" The high pitched voice squealed, extending a stubby hand forward for the Elf to shake. Alorinis grinned, taking the hand in earnest and shaking it firmly, "Verstallus, you act as if you have never seen me. We were at the manor last month," he laughed as they broke hands. "Well, yes, sir. But you've never come down to the Shire with the whole family before, it is just exciting! You can see all the work we've done, oh I hope you like it. I tried to follow your instructions." Verstallus began to rattle on, but Alorinis laid a hand over his strange haircut. "I just told you to lead it, Verstallus. So long as you wear that ring you had the idea for, I think you are fine." Verstallus blushed, showing off the ring across his middle finger with a grin and nodding. "Very well then, if you would follow me, sir. The Fellowship is awaiting you. Don't worry about the Mistress Eleneill, when she wakes the servants will help carry all your belongings inside."

"What? I ain't staying here while he gets to meet people!" A sharp voice broke through the carriage, followed by smaller gasps and pops of sound. Eleneill's sleep ridden head poked out of the window, staring from Alorinis to Verstallus. "I'm his wife, I get to come too!" She nodded, moving to pull her head back inside and then stopping, "And I got family here. This place is mine more than his." She snorted and moved back inside. She exited the carriage with a gaggle of children swinging around her and following her slowly, eight children beneath the age of five all were following her. "Oi, you!" Eleneill said with a pointing finger at a servant who was near the door. "You're now the nanny. Take 'em in, clean 'em up, feed 'em, and put on their nice clothes. We'll be back in an hour or so." She nodded to the man who did not move, clearly confused as he looked from Verstallus to Alorinis. "Oi! They ain't in charge here, I am! Get moving! Sick 'em!" Eleneill said the last bit to her children who as one charged at the man with their tiny legs, laughing as they hugged around them and the man accepted his new position with a snicker.

"Let us go then, my love," Alorinis said with a laugh, giving the feisty woman a kiss which she made no moves to let be short. Verstallus blushed some more, fiddling with his necklace for a moment and nodding. "Right, this way," the half-Elf said as he started to walk around the carriage. "We have nearly a full Fellowship now, but I am still looking for proper members. I am not fond of some that apply, though the openness of the town has attracted more like me. Half-Elves that is, not always Gnomish ones." The squat man prattled on as he lead the couple on the short walk from their home to the actual main home of the Shire. 

The taller and more elaborate house definitely had been redone. Verstallus' mixed heritage showing across it as cogs and gears mixed with arcane sparks and marble spheres. "But, I hope you approve of the ones you meet." He lead them through a short door, nearly scratching Alorinis' head, and up some winding stairs. "Verstallus, why did we use the kitchen entrance?" Eleneill asked, looking perplexed. "Oh... I just always do. I can reach the door handle there." Eleneill barked out a laugh, smiling at the half-Elf, "Oh Titans, I do love having you around, Verst."

The finally entered a large room, with a circular table at the center, dotted with people who all rose as Alorinis and Eleneill entered. Their eyes darting from his flaming crown to her wolfish arm, it was hard to miss the couple. Their eyes looked over the group, sizing up and inspecting each person. By the storm, look at that one. She's gotta be half giant. Eleneill wordlessly said to Alorinis, his own mind replying in kind. He did say the land had attracted more halflings, but look, your cousin Robin is here. Alorinis nodded his chin towards a smiling Quel'dorei, waving at the two enthusiastically. Huh, cool. Eleneill replied as she waved back. They moved to the seats Verstallus pointed out to them, two large chairs on a raise dais above the table, as the man took his own seat at the table.

"Allow me to begin the introductions." Verstallus spoke up, standing on his chair and barely passing the heads of most of those around the table. "Lady Antiel, Mistress of the Arcane Circle, bearer of the Magic Ring. She ensures the magics of the Shire are kept under check, and only put to positive use." He denoted a short Quel'dorei woman who was giving a great deal of effort to keep her eyes on the couple and smile, fidgeting the whole while. "Lord Robin Sunsword, Watcher of the Pack, and bearer of the Fang Ring. He keeps to the well being of the Pack stationed here, and accurately keeping their numbers during and after hunting season." The comment made Eleneill bristle but she nodded nonetheless, her eyes roaming across the few remainders at the table. "Captain Urgok Stillwhisper, Captain of the Isenguard, and bearer of the Shield Ring. She leads our military force for the Queen, and does an amazing job of protecting the Shire from poachers and other enemies." Verstallus denoted the large woman they had early guessed to be half-giant, who gave a small grin at their stares, "She is half-Ogre," Verstallus cut in at the stares, clearing his throat. "And lastly, Mister Delthil Brewhammer, Master of Agriculture, and bearer of the Plant Ring. He coordinates our creation of exports and trade for the Shire, and helps keep our contacts with Ironforge due to his father's heritage there. And of course, I handle the gold and such that comes through for such ventures." Verstallus returned to his seat, smiling up at the duo on their large chairs. Is this suppose to be our throne? I don't like it. Eleneill shot at Alorinis, quirking a brow. He shook his head, agreeing to her statement and smiling back at the group. "I am glad to see the Shire is in such capable hands. It makes it much easier for Eleneill and I to make this trips for pleasure rather than business."