Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

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Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Traelrin on Tue Aug 18, 2015 2:29 pm

Power, rage, fury. It all coursed through my hind legs thrusting me into the wilderness. The Wild Spirits had truly gifted us all; Stormrage had found it first, the Totem to unite us all under one banner, to empower our armies; the Spear of Druidism. The Pack Form. It was glorious. It was our saving grace. It was, simply not worth it...

Bounding through the forests of Ashenvale, side by side, Traelrin and his Father embodied their new Form as if it was the only one they had ever entered. It was unlike anything they had experienced since the War of the Ancients came to it's conclusion and the world was torn a-sunder. It was power in it's purest form.

Originally they had been taught to revere the Saber Spirit, it taught them both much of how to stalk your prey, stick to the shadows of the flora and calculate before you pounced yet now it seemed so lack-luster. Shan'do Stormrage had been deep in the Dream, his chosen Brothers circled him in their Barrows, the years since the War ended had been a learning curve for all who now counted themselves "Druid"; the Totemic Beasts they had chosen to follow had just begun to form sects within the community. The Claw. The Talon. It seemed to Traelrin that the differences in philosophies drove the Druids apart, it didn't seem wise, but was the nature of their journeys. Now was the time to unite; the Pack Form had been embraced at first but some grew wary of it, the mimicry of the Ancient Goldrinn struck fear in weaker Kaldorei. Even Malfurion called out for it's ban.

That would not do.

"Son, stop. Can you smell that?", reached out the voice of Othelon, a testiment to their connection that they communicated somewhat telepathically. The wolf-pair stopped in their tracks, noses at the ready, sniffing for the source of their distress. It smelt of rotting wood, burnt too but not for a campfire, no meats had been roasted over these flames, no stories had been told. Shifting from his Pack Form, Traelin knelt to inspect the ruinous forestland, they had come further than usual; too far. Touching the ashes, gulping "Demons, Father. I can sense their touch", "No!", retorted the Elder shifting into his true Form aghast. "We must inform the Sentinels, Traelrin, if they don't already know, they need to!." Leaping in their elven forms, touching the ground as wolves, the two Apprentices sprinted through the Woods, yet they were not the first to sense corruption.

"What are they!" screached the Priestess, "Bestial, goat-like and demonic. I thought we had beat them back, how dare they return to our lands!"; "I do not know, Yasri, calm yourself. It is not befitting of your Caste to act with such frivolous fear." She sighed, "I know, Othelon, I just cannot contain myself. The War took too much, is it not over yet?". "I fear not, the Sentinels have been informed, as has Malfurion. Now is not our turn to worry and plot, we must act when we are told to. Traelrin and I have continued with our new Form, we are growing very pote -", "You was told not to! You was told it could not be controlled! Traelrin, I thought you had sense, why do you follow your Father into such illict activity. Do you have no respect for your Shan'do?". Grunting from across the room, stepping out of the drawn shadow, Traelin peered carefully at the Priestess before shrugging. "What do you know.", he replied, as he stood to leave. "Trae, don't leave. Yasri is only voicing her concern, Elune's chosen know best after all.", peering back at his Father's wry sarcastic smile, he smirked in return, and as Yasri slumped in the corner cursing their names, he returned to the Wilds, the bickering faint in the background as he walked onwards.

It can be controlled, it damn well can. Stormrage had just lost his temper, lashed out. It was foolish but the Saber has the same bite, if that is all they are afraid of, why take it out on the poor Wolf? Ghrm, they just do not understand. Elune's Grace is no match for the fury of Goldrinn and with these 'Satyr' abound, we will need all the claws we can get. By Cenarius, the last time the Demons invaded the world was blown in two, what next. We must be prepared, I know some still follow the Pack, we must gather. If it comes to it, we will prove the worth of our patron with bloodshed...


-

Good Afternoon!

I hope you enjoyed the brief read, I am planning to continue the tale of Traelrin's adventures during the War of the Satyr. I hope these posts can provide an insight into the character, so he is not such a stranger when you encounter him in-character! (and this is a some-what productive way to spend my lunch break), critic is welcome, time-line issues are welcome to be pointed out aswell!

Thanks,
Traelrin.
~Traelrin Wildcrest - Druid of the Claw ~
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Eluvere on Wed Aug 19, 2015 3:05 pm

Hey Trael, that was a nice introduction to your char! :)

and it makes me curious as to where this is going to end for him, how far will he go...? =P
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Traelrin on Wed Aug 19, 2015 3:31 pm

Evidently not far enough! He's still a Night Elf, after all! Haha.
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Aariam on Wed Aug 19, 2015 6:58 pm

He criticizes sabers?! Aariam is unimpressed! :D

Really liked the read, dude, looking forward to seeing where this is going. :)
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Edradir on Wed Aug 19, 2015 9:58 pm

Hey Trael,

Nice read, curious of what will follow though.
The pack of the wolf or Goldrinn, I find very interresting. :)
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Traelrin on Thu Aug 20, 2015 10:44 am

It all happened so fast, how could I lose control like that? Fangfire had assured us all that we could fight it, we could own it. The Wolf hungered. The Pack fed. If only my claws were only stained with Satyr Blood...

One by one, the Druids of the Pack grew. Traelrin had found their leader, Ralaar Fangfire and convinced him to let him and his Father into their pack. Truth be told, Ralaar had little choice, the Pack Form was getting gradually wiped out; it seemed that Malfurion's wishes were being adhered too yet with War waging around them, what good were treants and over-grown flowers. Huddled in the midst of Ashenvale, they gathered, numbering few in the grand scheme of things, but most had great skill. Debate had turned from a battle of words, to claws, as they quarrelled on their next step and the arrogance only a Highborne could muster tainted Othelon's words as he spat, standing beside his Son, shifted, in all the glory of the Wolf; "Now is our time to strike, the Sentinels plan their counter-attack when the Moon reaches it's apex, we will be at our strongest! The Satyr will not stand a chance!", many agreed, growling with enthusiasm, some without even the minds to speak their mother-tongue. Some Druids had taken to the Pack Form even better than Traelrin did, they barely shifted from it, sleeping, eating and sparring embodying the Wolf. It had become a drug; and as they continued to spend more time within it, they grew restless.

Ralaar Fangfire seemed immune to this. He had mastered the Pack Form, it was with ease, that he slipped between Elf and Wolf, his bark just as bad as his bite. The Druid had become less of a Kaldorei taking on the form of a Beast, but a Beast taking on the form of a Kaldorei; he was the undisputed leader, although many whelps tried to best him, they always failed. Traelrin thought that was why the numbers dwindled, but those who lived in the Pack lived by the Pack and it wasn't as safe as the cosy Barrows with the Claw.

Stormrage knew of the planned attack; it was simple revenge. The Druids and Sentinels would rain down on Xavian to slay Xalan the Feared. Together they would prevail, yet the Archdruid still demanded the Druids remain free of the Wolf;

"If Goldrinn the Wolf Ancient himself, could not control his feral spirit, then how might we? We, who are not Wolf in nature." *


Yet on the battlefield, his words became meaningless. Unleashing the Pack Form had been a last resort for most; but not for Traelrin and Othelon; they danced through the field of battle in unison, ripping through the throat's of their foes like hot knives through butter. The Druid's savagry had not gone unnoticed.

"Pack Form! We must prepare, they will have lost all sense of themselves!"*

The cries were dulled, taste, sight and smell it all overwhelmed the pair. Purity was all that mattered, killing, sating the blood-lust. Nothing else remained. Not even when the corrupted red flesh of the Satyr beneath their claws became fair, purple and elven. Chaos was born. The pure Druids flailed trying to contain the situation, the Sentinels struck back in fear, the Satyr continued pushing through their lines of defense. Traelrin was in his element.

Devouring the flesh of his latest kill, his senses became overwhelming. The warm blood stained his fur, and he realised the scent was familar, the markings were known; the corpse turned from lupine to elf and the face contorted with death was a mirror of his own. "No...", he choked, as he realised, howling to the moon in grief. Flinging himself to the Forests, the battle eventually turned silent, ripping himself from his Form and naked as the day he was born, Traelrin ran, and ran, and never stopped running.

How could this have happened? It wasn't meant be this way, we had controlled it. It's power, rage, fury. It all had coursed through my hind legs thrusting me into the wilderness. The Wild Spirits had truly gifted us all; Stormrage had found it first, the Totem to unite us all under one banner, to empower our armies; the Spear of Druidism. The Pack Form. It was glorious. It was our saving grace. It was, not worth it and it all happened so fast, how could I lose control like that? Fangfire had assured us all that we could fight it, we could own it. The Wolf hungered. The Pack fed. If only my claws were only stained with Satyr Blood...

I'm sorry, Father.


*- Excerpts from World of Warcraft: Curse of the Worgen

-

Part two to conclude the short story!

Enjoy :)
Last edited by Traelrin on Thu Aug 20, 2015 2:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
~Traelrin Wildcrest - Druid of the Claw ~
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Salirien on Thu Aug 20, 2015 2:07 pm

So sad. So tragic. So unfair... I love it! :D

Really a good read, I hope you will write more in the future. And I really like the first paragraph being an excerpt in first person. Adds so much flavour to the story! Reminds me of some of Brandon Sanderson's works! :)
"Shine your light on us, Mother, for the day has grown long, and we are lost."
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Aariam on Thu Aug 20, 2015 7:13 pm

Aw, poor Traelrin. :(

Enjoyed that story, dude!
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Re: Traelrin - A Past in the Pack.

Postby Eluvere on Thu Aug 20, 2015 11:02 pm

Yeah, very nicely written! And interesting to see the story of a former Druid of the Pack so well thought through ;)
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