Temaius Moonstriker

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Temaius Moonstriker

Postby Jondalar on Fri Oct 28, 2011 8:34 pm

Char Name: Temaius Moonstriker
Char Class: Druid
Char Level:
Char Age: 300
Your RL age: 23

Background Story:

The hippogryph from Lor’Danel to Teldrassil would take a while and, with nothing else to do, Temaius produced a letter from his inner tunic: a letter that had the look of being well-read after only a short period of time. The same lines he had pored over for the past 3 months would forever be ingrained into his memory, reading would serve no purpose; and yet... and yet...

My son, if you are reading this, then I am gone and have become one with the earth. As I write this, I can hear you giggling in the garden as you and your friends play with your new-found pet – and, really, a full-grown bear of all things! As if the baby nightsaber wasn’t bad enough! You may be wondering why, on such a pleasant afternoon, I am writing such a letter but the truth is my dearest friend, who you were named after, has died in service to the Cenarion Circle, and so I feel obligated to write this down, just in case. I write this now, even though you are still a fledgling, because I know in my heart you will walk a similar path: the moment you were born your mother and I knew that you would follow in your namesake’s footsteps and become a druid. And looking at you now, playing with that adult bear you saved, I do not think your mother and I are wrong.

Hopefully you will be a druid now, and so I hope that bearing the name of someone so recently dead in the Circle will not have been too great a burden on you. Know that your mother and I will always be immeasurably proud of you, our beloved child, the only one in our 2000 years of marriage. I hope, when you read this many, many years from now you will be able to appreciate this feeling. And, as a last request, please cherish your life as we cherished yours: nature is truly something that must be protected, but, and I hope this doesn’t conflict with druidic duty, your life is worth 10000 bears.

Yours with eternal love,
Your father, Illium Farspotter.

He smiled, the same sad, nostalgic, rueful smile he always had after reading this letter, and wondered if he would ever be so wise even with 3000 years behind him. Because, in truth, the training was hard: his father’s friend was a renowned and powerful druid. His peers were expectant; his teachers, demanding. And, with the orcs and the Burning Legion invasion, his training was accelerated even more. The other trainee druids were mostly ordered to provide rudimentary healing and first aid at field hospitals: he was expected to do so on the front lines. It was only through the earnest plea, or, rather, begging, on the part of his father that he was allowed to serve with the rest of the trainees.

And he remembered now, with shame and disgust, how furious he was.

The attitude of peers and teachers had created a seed of arrogance within him and it had only grown with time. He was talented, powerful, a natural with animals from a very young age. So great was his hubris that, towards the end of his training, when animals no longer approached him with the same zeal, he put it down to the fact that they were simply unused to a young druid of such power. When he heard his father had pulled him back from proving his strength and courage in the front lines, he sent a hate-filled letter in reply claiming that his father was trying to turn him into someone like himself: “a useless old man, capable of being a great hunter, but instead content to waste his talents and stay at home plying his useless trade.”

“Such arrogance...” he whispered, the shame in those words drowned in the beating of the wings:; the shame itself still lingered. The shore of Teldrassil was fast approaching, the hippogryph would be landing in only a few more minutes, and so he read the final part of his father’s letter:


It has been many years and I have not seen fit to alter the words I have written. Until now. My son, your letter wounded both me and your mother; how much, I cannot say: I leave that to your imagination. You are nearing 300 now and I would have assumed that you would have realised the truth by now.

The reason I gave up my position as a master hunter was to spend more time with your Priestess mother and, eventually, with you, my beloved son. The thought of being apart was far too painful in my eyes. Perhaps I am still, at heart, just a fledgling: my friends have often said so in passing, as a joke of course.

I am no Malfurion: I do not possess that kind of strength. I do not possess the strength to sacrifice centuries and millenia to the Emerald Dream: I am no druid. Reading the letter you sent back to me, I wonder, too, if you have that strength too. The day will come when you will be asked to enter the Dream: if you have a belowed wife and son, would you be willing to be apart? Not as you are now: that I am certain.

My beloeved son, many of our kind become druids. We have a deep affinity and knowledge of nature. Many of our kind becomes druids. Most will be nowhere near the power of my friend, whose name you share, nor will they have the power you willl possess in time. But, my son, there is a difference between power and strength, and it is a vast difference. In time, I hope you come to realize this.

Your chiding father.
Illium Farspotter.

The hippogryph had just landed and Temaius carefully folded the letter and placed it back within his inner tunic. Dismounting, he hugged the hippogryph carefully and aided the hippogryph-master in preparing a suitable berth. The hippogryph squawked in appreciation as Temaius placed a minor rejuvenation spell on the bird – he was still incapable of a proper rejuventaion spell at the moment – and nodding to the flight-master began to head towards the capital of Darnassus.
When the war had ended the remnants of the demonic legion fled, but they did not disappear. They passed by many encampments and destroyed them as they retreated, and Temaius was among those injured. Badly wounded, and corrupted by fel-energies, even after being tended to by skilled priestesses and druids he remained in a deep sleep. Awakening only 3 months ago, and still weak, he was greeted with news of the past few years, the Cataclysm, and his father’s letter along with news of his death at the hands of orcs during the war. It took 3 months to recover fully and complete his druidic training and now he was in Darnassus to visit his mother and begin his new journey.

I entered the Temple of the Moon and spotted my mother immediately along with many of the women who raised me in Auberdine . Leyana Whisperwind was loving and tender at times; for the most part, though, she was stern, firm, and demanding. She sensed my approach immediately and turned quickly: I could tell her initial desire was to run and embrace me but she quickly supressed it; the others, though, were not so inclined. They rushed over and joyously fawned over me, hugging and embracing me, remarking over the change in the many years I have been gone, inquiring about my health. In short, being mother-hens. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh. It felt almost like home.

“Why have you come here?”


“Mother, its good to see you.”

“And you too, but that does not answer my question.” Her reply was stern, almost frosty, and no matter how much I was expecting it due to my last letter it still wounded me, and shamed me. There was nothing else to do but be direct.

“I have come to begin my long journey to heal the lands of Azeroth and remove the corruption that threatens the balance of nature.” I declared in a loud voice.

Mother was unimpressed. “And,” I added, falteringly, “and... in his letter he seemed to think that he was weaker than Malfurion, that he was weaker than a druid and that was why he chose his life... but I don’t think it was a weakness: I think that, though he lacked their power, he never lacked their strength. He simply chose a different path... he wanted to be with you, and me, and help raise me rather than being absent for long periods of time... and he wanted to protect me...thats why he picked up his bow again and fought at Mount. Hyjal right? He wanted to protect me...”

“Right now, I have very little power and even less strength. That’s why I have to begin my journey: I won’t be a disappointment to him...or to you.”

At last my mother smiled, a wide, joyous smile, and embraced me tightly, uncharacteristic tears falling slowly, gently.
“You’re very right, except about one thing: you were never a disappointment to us, never.”
I was startled and looked up at her but she merely continued to smile that same smile and shook her head. Wiping her tears, she took a step back and placed her hands squarely on my shoulders at my look of confusion.
“300 years may not be long for us night elves, but even so you are still so young...just like your father. The world is a great teacher and she does not discriminate: she will teach you well.Your father was young but he was always strong, always wise... you may be similar to your father in many ways, but you do not have his natural strength or wisdom.”

My mother’s gaze turned sad at this as she whispered softly to me.

“You are very much like me.”

She took my hand and led me out of the temple, and I felt like a child again walking home hand-in-hand with her.

“I have the week off – you can manage to spend a week with your mother can’t you? – and I imagine you will be away for long periods of time: you will need to be prepared. I imagine it has been a long time since you’ve had a proper home-cooked meal....”

I could only smile as my characteristically stern mother was being uncharacteristically talkative and waved goodbye to the other women. Soon, I will be leaving. Soon, I will journey to heal the land and preserve the balance of nature. Soon, I will understand my father’s last words. I have heard of a noble band of night elves, “Natures Grasp”, that protect and heal our lands. Perhaps my journey will begin there.

But for now, for today, I will eat, drink, and be merry.

And, together, we will remember.
Jondalar Greenfury
Keeper Emeritus of the Order of Natures Grasp

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