Feathermoon Stronghold

[moonshadows]

Illidan!

I hear you, brother.

Tyrande needs your help! We got an urgent message from Feathermoon Stronghold. They’ve been hit by storms and attacked by naga. The message cut out abruptly, and Tyrande took a hippogryph to try to aid Shandris. I have to see to a few things here before I can join her.

I’m on my way.

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Tyrande fought the head of the hippogryph around, but the tired beast balked at flying into the storm churning over Feathermoon Stronghold. Pleading did no good; it outright refused to fly any closer. In despair, she lifted her eyes to the obscured shore – just in time to see a familiar dark shape shoot past over her head, followed by a second, smaller figure that wheeled around and began flying back towards her.

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“Come then, naga scum!” Shandris yelled hoarsely at the advancing myrmidons. She was past exhaustion, past bravado. This was the end, and she knew it.

“Yes, come – to your death,” a cold voice somewhere above her head growled in the hissing naga dialect that she could barely make out. A crackling sound and steady bursts of wind hinted at vast wings. “Or, if you wish to live, retreat and harm none as you do, for I give you my solemn word: if this woman dies-“ a scraping, ringing sound echoed, and the naga looked frightened. “-then none of you will survive to regret the foolishness of your actions.”

The moment stretched. Shandris desperately wished she dared look away from the naga long enough to see who it was that was so fearsome, and if he was friend or foe.

“I’m waiting,” the voice snarled, “and I grow impatient.” There was a flash of green that reflected on slimy naga eyes, and they broke and slithered for the water, hissing curses and empty threats.

Shandris fainted.

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Tyrande paced restlessly before the fire inside the dome of magic that kept the wind and rain at bay and trapped the warming air beneath it. A large figure stepped up out of the storm’s gloom and passed into the shelter, the limp form of Shandris Feathermoon held in his arms. Illidan laid his burden down by the fire, where Tyrande knelt with a low cry and began praying. Silver light enveloped the other woman, and within moments she opened her eyes.

“Tyrande.” Shandris lunged up to embrace the priestess.

“You’re safe,” Tyrande said, holding her friend tightly.

“How did I get free? The naga – and then a strange voice…” Shandris released Tyrande and followed the older woman’s grateful look across the fire. “Illidan!” She scrambled to her feet and launched herself at the startled half-demon like a child embracing a favorite uncle who’s been away too long. “Tyrande told me everything that happened to you. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Illidan smiled gently. “You’ve grown since I last saw you,” he deadpanned.

As the general disengaged, Tessa stepped forward and took her place at Illidan’s side.

“Shandris,” Tyrande said, “this is Jentessa. It is thanks to her that Illidan was able to return to us.”

A single glance at the couple told Shandris everything Tyrande hadn’t. “A pleasure to meet you,” she said warmly to the younger demon as soon as Illidan’s possessive kiss ended. “I’m glad he found someone that makes him happy.” She flushed slightly and cast a guilty glance at the taller of the two. “I used to daydream about being that someone when I was a child. It was a rough time, and he was kind to me, and…” she trailed off with a shrug. “I tried to visit a few times, but Maiev said that seeing me or anyone else would just send you back into the state of mindless-“

Illidan held up one taloned hand with a pained expression. “I prefer not to think about that,” he said gently. “I know the storm is still too wild for the hippogryph to fly, but I can navigate it well enough. Should I search for other survivors?”

“No.” Shandris shook her head. “We were already evacuating everyone because of the storm when the naga attacked. Those who remained to make sure the others got away safely…” She closed her eyes and trembled briefly. “I was the last one. Only the dead remain at Feathermoon Stronghold.”