The Elements in Revolt (Open to Shamans)

[Durk'atar]

OOC: This thread is intended to set up the "Elemental Summit (http://wow-tng.org/showthread.php?t=20452)" event. Shamans are welcome to post their individual experiences where they begin to realize something's wrong.

The sea coast of Azshara carried with it a crispness in the mornings that always made Durk'atar feel reinvigorated. The break of dawn saw the young shaman perched upon a lonely rock in the bay, clad only in a loincloth as he performed his usual meditations. The sea water was cool, the rock beneath him hard, the breeze refreshing, the sun heating his skin. All four elements in balance.

His mind and body sharpened by the routine, Durk'atar stepped down from his seat, feet walking upon the calm water as if it were the sands of Durotar. He slipped his shaman's robes back over his shoulders as he approached the island cave where Sanctuary's leadership had stashed the group's supplies. It was certainly a long fall from their previous guildhall, but Durk'atar secretly relished the simplistic life it provided.

As the shaman stepped onto the sands of their island's beach, he felt a disquieting sensation in his gut. He looked around, unsure of the source of his unease. So soon after his meditations, he would normally have a mind cleared of troubles. Whatever was wrong, it was newly arrived - and close.

He was aware of the tremor shortly before it actually hit. The world seemed to suddenly tip to the right, sending Durk'atar tumbling into a collection of boulders near the cave entrance. His breath was stolen from him when his ribs crashed into the unyielding stone, and he could do little but grunt when he heard the sound of equipment crashing to the floor inside.

The earthquake ended after a few moments, though it seemed an eternity while the whole world shook. Durk'atar stood, then gripped his chest with a smothered yelp as the pain of breathing washed over him. He reached into his pouch, his fingers closing around his totem marked with the rune for water. Then he paused, the pain forgotten as he realized his feet were wet.

The water was rising, threatening to flood Sanctuary's cave.

Durk'atar tossed his totem to the ground, where it manifested as an axe swirling with blue energy. He focused his will upon it, using it as a link to reach out towards the spirit of the sea around him.

"Brother Water, your course threatens my home. I know you must flow, but I ask you to find another place upon which to crest."

No. I tire of this earth blocking my waves. I will destroy it.

The water continued to rise.

"I beg you to move elsewhere. You know I hold nothing but respect for your power. Your actions here would destroy much good work done in your name."

The earth is weak! I will claim it for myself and destroy it, and I will flow uninterrupted.

He was running out of time. The water was only a few inches from the cave, and the supplies within. Never had the spirits seemed so belligerent, without being maddened by some sort of corruption - but this was pure sea water, with no external power influencing it. Never had they so completely refused to consider his pleadings.

He reached back into his pouch, grabbing a second totem. If Water wished to be selfish, so be it. It was threatening a different element, and that would provide Durk'atar with leverage. He tossed the totem, this one green.

"Brother Earth, the sea threatens your mighty perch! My people will be unable to take shelter within your strength, should the sea swallow this island."

I care little for your people. I will not yield to this intruder, however!

The island shook once again, this time on its own. A ring of stone erupted from the sands, rising like a floodwall to block off the rising waters. Earth and Water entered combat, both rising higher and higher in their battle for supremacy.

Finally, the sea seemed to reach its limit at about four feet. It receded - grudgingly, the shaman could feel - and he breathed a sigh of relief. He eyed the wall, nearly as high as his shoulder, and decided not to ask for it to be removed again. Earth had been nearly as irritable as Water had, and the request could end up with even more destruction. Besides, nothing said that Water was done, either.

Durk'atar sighed, looking up at the sky. Something was wrong. He could feel the very bones of world trembling in fear. The spirits were lashing out, and he was certainly not powerful enough to understand why. Perhaps it was time to return to Orgrimmar, and seek out the elders.

[Brokkir]

In the frigid mountains of Northrend, the Wildhammer dwarf Brokkir awoke from a nightmare. He roared as loud as he could, a battle cry that could be heard for a miles in each direction if the wind wished to carry it. He found himself alone in the dragon-hide tent, breathing heavily and lost for words.

A fellow hunter walked into the tent with a spear at the ready, he looked at Brokkir curiously before lowering the weapon.

"Another dream then?" He asked.

"Yay, t'was the same one, lad. Oy've seen it time and again since ar' las' hunt. With each day it has become more vivid."

"What do you dream of Brokkir?"

"Death... destruction... A great terror awaits o'er the horizon. The great father 'as deemed it necessary to haunt my nights with this prophecy. Oy'm afraid, and oy'm not scared to admit it. Ye should be as well, lad." Brokkir stood and crossed the room to find his weapons.

"If it's got the great dragon hunter stirring in his sleep, then I probably should be."

"The earth trembles in fear from what is coming, And I can't stay in these mountains a day longer. I fear I must abandon ye to yer hunt. I must return to Aerie Peak. If this world is doomed, I wish to be with me kin when it crumbles. At least that way I can go out fightin."

"Are you certain you cannot stay? You're the best hunter here, and we all know it. The way you brought down that behemoth..."

"Lad, ye'll do fine without me. I no longer wish to hunt with these dreams plaguein me. I must return home, so I can at least warn the others, if they haven't been already."

"I understand. May you fare well, brother."

"Ye as well lad, ye as well."

[Bellsa]

Bellsa hunched over the small fire she had made on the spirit rise. In its center, a carved totem smoldered among dry herbs. She had chosen the wood for this totem and the herbs carefully, and the scented smoke rose in curls and rings into the air. She leaned forward and squinted, watching every detail closely.

"Wood of earth, heat of fire, smoke of air...And then?" The old shaman mumbled as she brought her waterskin around. She tipped some water over her hand and reached out, letting drops fall into the flames. The fire hissed and she withdrew her hand slowly as she whispered the incantation she used to call upon the elements.

She waited. She had been uneasy these past few days, and her time spent in meditation had done little to help. Bellsa had hoped that by returning to Thunder Bluff, she would be away from new problems and able to relax like her old, aching body wanted to, if only for a time. It hadn't worked out that way. Sleep had been fitful and she felt strangely on edge. The other shaman that called the bluff home seemed to be experiencing something similar, though none had actually discussed it yet.

She inhaled. The rich, earthy smell she had expected from the burning totem was missing and in its place was something entirely different. Had she chosen the wrong wood and herbs? Unlikely. She wrinkled her nose as she kept her eyes on the fire. The smoke rising from it was darker than it should have been. In one practiced motion, she swept her hand above the flame to clear the air. The fire popped and Bellsa's ears short forward at the sound of a sudden crack.

The totem still stood where she had placed it, but it had split nastily down the middle. She had never seen one of her totems do such a thing before and her first reaction was one of deep confusion. The proper care had been taken, she had been as precise as she could be and all of the elements had been present...Why had the spirits not answered? What was wrong?

Feeling the first tinges of failure and fatigue, she sat back and it was then that she felt the sturdy bluff tremble. Bellsa stumbled to her feet, her back protesting the sudden movement as she planted her hooves far apart and swayed her tail for balance. Fatigue had been replaced by fear now. How had a movement of the earth beneath her very hooves been able to take her by surprise? Bellsa held her tense posture until the shaking stopped before allowing herself to slowly relax. The sound of hoofbeats behind her broke her from her fear and she turned to see a younger and obviously panicked Shu'Halo racing towards her.

"Elder," he panted, "did you feel that? It was another one! I came to find you as quickly as I could. I think...I think you should see this. They were posted on the main rise." He held out a wrinkled flier to her and her hands, if not the earth, trembled as she took it.

[Bakunaua]

Hot fumes permeated from the room. The troll Baku sat across the table from a Blood Knight, their eyes locked in a fierce staredown. A few others stood around the room of the smithy, largely ignoring the two. As their intensity rose, a loud clank came from across the room-- Baku's concentration broke as the blacksmith's hammer came down on the bent sword before him. A smile found itself on the sin'dorei's lips as his trollish friend blinked.

"You be nottin compare ta me!" the elf laughed, kicking back in his chair. He put his feet up on the table, in triumph.

"Ja ak'sent be mighty bad, mon. Ja tink dat yousa can pass azza troll?" Baku laughed, quickly snatching his waterskin before the elf's feet came down on the beaten container. He took a quick swig before continuing, "Jus don't be doin' dat around da others, or ja gonna get whipped."

Baku stood from his seat, motioning to his waterskin at the elf. The sin'dorei nodded, too busy reveling in his victory to say anything. The troll simply rolled his eyes before walking out the door. The pure air outside rushed into his nostrils, the smoke-laden oxygen of the smithy leaving his memory. He was at the basin of the Arathi Highlands, as he had been for the past few weeks. The land, the water, the air- it was all beautiful to him. While the Forsaken act as if they own the place, their strange aura couldn't detract from the pristine nature of the highlands.

He made his way to the water, his waterskin in hand. Sticking it underwater, he waited patiently for the container to fill. He watched as the bubbles of air escaped from the waterskin, replaced by water. With each bubble, Baku heard unintelligible whispers coming from the water.

He withdrew his waterskin, looking straight at the water. The water rippled from where his pouch had been removed, but soon returned to its natural calm and the whispers subsided.

"What chu tinkin', mon? Dey water jus doin nottin," Baku muttered to himself as he turned back to the smithy. "Dey got no reason ta be riled up."

His long ears twitched as he heard the rippling of the water once more. The whispers returned, quickly raising to a crescendo of screams. In an instant, it began to pour down rain. Tornadoes formed in the distance. An eruption of coughs came from the smithy behind him; when he turned, he could see his comrades running out of the building, blinding smoke billowing from the inside. Soon all of the sounds were enveloped by the screams of the elements.

My blood elf friend ran up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. He shouted to me, concern obvious on his face. However, his words couldn't overcome the raging storm.

"Ay, spirits hear me! What be da chaos for?! Ja anger issa troublin' da people who depend on ja!" Bakunaua shouted in what Kalimag he knew. With that, the earth shook. Bakunaua fell down, along with the rest of the people as the land raged. The screams came to an end-- the tornadoes subsided, the rain stopped, the smoke disappating. The earth slowly stopping shaking, but the voice of the Earth was bellowed in his mind.

This domain is mine! Remain silent, or I will end you myself!