The druidess sat with a quietness about her. Her
eyes drifted towards the sky above, flickering her ears with an almost
annoyance. Having come to the Grizzly Hills almost four days ago, she already
sensed a palpable lack of reason for being here. There was no evidence of a
Section 28 base, nor any reason to believe one had existed in the region. Nevertheless,
her informant in Desolace had assured her that the answers she sought would be
here. So she sat at the small cabin, her eyes scanning across the documents
with a certain laziness.
Reports from scouts, horde and alliance both, sat on
the desk scattered like leaves in the fall. Every one of them had sorted through
and categorized without so much as a whisper of help. The ink from Alnarra's
quill replaced so many times that she lost count. Yet she knew she must persist
if she wished to gain any insight into this secret project.
Striking out from the cabin on a late summer's eve
she began to make her way towards the fallen world tree. It marked the land
alike a scar upon a patient, rotted and festering. the hope was the residents
of this land, the furbolgs, could provide insight her own people couldn't. So
she marched to the almost city-like structure they had constructed in the
fallen tree. It was curious being in a place so holy to druids yet feeling so
disconnected.
Her reason for being here was far from religious
and if anything, she wished to leave. The sooner she returned to her wife and
the Storm Glaive the happier she'd be. It was at least relaxing to escape the
drums of war that beat across the land. Here though there was a silence, almost
unsettling in its nature. Biting her lip she took a deep breath and approached
one of the fubolgs.
The creatures, even with their ties to Elune, were
devoid of the intelligence gifted to elf and man. Still, they could communicate,
and as she explained the nature of her hunt the creature seemed to laugh.
"They said that you would come, though I did
not expect their tongues to ring true" the furbolg explained. "The
people who spoke are far to often tied to shadow and lies that the off
chance of the truth is rare."
This certainly sounded like Section 28. Lies and
shadows were the modus operandi for the organization. In light of the news, the
druidess began to think this trek hadn't been in vain. Looking the beast over
she demanded more.
"You are the cat they sought to grow" it
responded, "Near the sea, they gather, look there for your shadows".
It was a frustrating response, but at least it
provided a clue. Without hesitation, the druidess thanked her recently met
furbolg friend. While she had reason to question why the first furbolg she
spoke to might have the information, she was in no mood to. Throwing caution to
the wind she made for the nearest coastal region.
Though she expected something to be waiting for her,
all she found among the sands was the howling wind. There were no tracks and
no signs of any sort of base. Instead, it was the calm waves crashing against
the sands like the land itself was breathing. A growl overtook her as she
kicked at the sandy beach wishing this was not some game.
"Come out damnit" she demanded of no one
in particular. "I do not have time for these games, I need answers"
her shouts continued. "What is project Snowclaw, and why was I never
b--".
But before she could finish her sentence the word
Snowclaw set events in motion. As she stood on the beach, a shockwave of energy
began to pulse through the ground. The druidess looked down with a mild concern
before shifting. She had no intention of finding herself caught off guard in a
place like this.
With a heavy sigh she raised her claw-like hands in
a defensive posture, her hair stood on end. Then from behind, she heard
footsteps on the sand. As if out of thin air 4 men in hooded robes appeared,
each holding a dagger.
"Really?" the woman questioned shaking her
head. The words were brief; yet, as it did not take long for the hooded
individuals to make their attack. They charged headlong and the druidess met
each with a treant cloaked in Fae magic. "Evens the odds" she smirked
handling the man attacking her by throwing him over her head. As he hit the
soft sand of the beach roots reached up from the depths of the earth to drag
him beneath.
Another man fell as the fae cloaked claw of another
treant pierced his gut leaving him to bleed out on the sands. It took little
time and effort to make short work of the attackers. A fact that also made the
druidess uncomfortable. Still, though, this was no place to be getting cold
feet, there must be an explanation for this trail.
Looking about she caught glimpse of a change in the
waters. They seemed to be breaking on something not there before. A smirk
crossed her face as she made sure all her assailant lay dead or dying on the
beach. She was going to get her answers one way or another.
