Chapter 7: The Grove of the Ancients

I was dumbstruck by Rexena's pronouncement.

"A fake?" I repeated. "How can you know this?"

"Because I know the Mantle," she replied simply. "I was there at its creation. I was there when Fandral Staghelm, the great druid leader from Darnassus gave the fabric to Laurent. I could feel the magic in its folds as I stood next to him. There is no magic in that cloth."

"You knew my father?" I asked, grasping on to the information hungrily.

"I knew him. I was friends with your Grandfather, which is how I came to be at the Coming of Age ceremony."

Feisty came out of her trance, "Shali! You are the granddaughter of Fandral Staghelm? Why did you not tell me this?"

"I didn't know," was my reply. "This was kept secret from me. Do you know where the real Mantle of Myriad might be?" I asked Rexena.

"I only saw it that once," she admitted. "Your father had it hidden away, weaving stories into its threads. But I know someone who might have some answers for you, Night Elf. On the path of Darkshore that leads into Ashenvale Forest, there is a place called, 'The Grove of the Ancients'. In this grove, lives an Ancient of Lore. He is as wise as he is kind. They call him The Oracle Tree."

I have heard tell of this Ancient," Feisty told me. "The dwarfs call him Onu."

"Yes. Onu." confirmed Rexena. "I must wish you well now and be on my way. I am on an errand to Gnomeragan. A younger one needs assistance in finding the dormitories there and retrieving a ring of great power." With nothing else to say, the little mage grabbed her staff and took off towards the pier, twin ponytails bobbing as she ran.

"What will you do now?" Feisty queried.

The answer was easy, "I must see Onu immediately." I told her. "Feisty, keep the ring and the other stuff from the box, I only want this cloak. I must show it to Onu."

Feisty retrieved the box from my bed, where it still lay open. "Thank you Night Elf. And so I too must be off. Today I am scoping out Black Fathom Bay also known as the Zoram Strand, searching for the entrance to the underground temple."

I bowed low to the dwarf, a part of me wishing I could join her and another part eager to be on my own way. "Perhaps, we will meet again, my friend." I said hopefully.

"I am sure we will," she replied, bowing in return with fist pressed to her heart--the traditional symbol of friendship. With that we both took off running, she towards the shore that would lead to Black Fathom Bay and me up the path that I hoped would take me to meet Onu, The Oracle Tree.

I ran steadfastly for what seemed like an hour, finally sighting a little wooden signpost that said, "Grove of the Ancients". I laughed to myself when I saw it, thinking that this pinewood arrow marked a path for tourists and adventurers and was somehow amused by this. Following this narrow walkway, I soon found myself gazing up at the ornate columns that enclosed the Grove and moments later at the immense, tree-like creature called Onu."

"Who is there?" he boomed. "Do you have a message from Darnassus, Night Elf? What are the goings on there?"

"Good day to you Lore Master." I said, bowing so low I could feel the rough floor at my scalp. "I am Shalimara, daughter of Laurent."

"I know who you are," Onu said, "What news do you bring from Fandral?"

I shook my head and sat on one of the little stone benches that surrounded the great one. "I do not come with news, Sir. I come with hope. I need you to look at something I bring and see if you can tell me its lore."

"Proceed. Proceed." he said, and to my surprise, heaved his huge form to the ground in front of me. I pulled the fake Mantle of Myriad from my pack and he took it immediately into his leafy fingers, running his eyes hungrily over the fabric and crooning over it like a mother with a new born baby.

"This fabric...this cloth...was woven from my very own branches," he told me, "Way before the Great Sundering. "It was the twin of another, that Fandral himself kept. This one was created to serve as decoy for the other, which contained much magic. How do you come to have this in your possession, Shalimara?"

I told him of my journey thus far and he listened intently, stopping now and then to ask a question that would clarify his thoughts. When my story was over he startled me by laughing loudly.

"I would like to have seen Rexena again," he admitted, "And to have met this dwarf you speak of. For now, I will fill in a few blanks in your story." The giant tree-man stood once more and paced around the enclosure. "The Mantle of Myriad," he began, "Was created by the druids and myself, to hold the secrets of the Night Elves before the time of war. It was made to protect the secrets and magic of the druids of the Cenarion Circle and the One Tree. A duplicate was made, this very cloak that I hold in my hands, because there were many who sought to steal its secrets. We used this second piece openly, hoping that it would fool the enemy, and apparently it worked." Again he chucked, and ran the fabric lovingly against his bark-like cheek. "When the world fell apart, just before the Great Sundering, Fandral gave the magical cloak to his son, Laurent. He was to weave more stories into its folds and to put much protective magic around it. That there were two cloaks made and that one contained such lore, was a great secret that Laurent was not to reveal to anyone, save his only child. But you, Shalimara, were merely a babe at the time and we thought, wrongly as it turned out, that the Night Elves would not fall for many years to come. When the enemy invaded, Laurent hid the Mantle to keep it from harm, thinking to retrieve it later. He was killed before he told anyone where it was and it has been lost for all this time since." He gave me a serious look. "But now Fandral must have need of the legends as we prepare to fight the Burning Crusade. It is he that has sent you, is it not?"

"Yes," I stated simply. "But he did not tell me the significance of the cloak or even that he is my grandfather. He merely summoned me to him and told me the bare bones of my quest."

"He did that to protect you, Hunter." Onu admonished me. "You knowing these secrets is dangerous for you, and seeing as you have no children, you and only you must retrieve the Mantle of Myriad for the race of elves."

"I do not know where I should begin," I confessed. "Kenundrom is dead and he had the fake cloak, not the real one. Any information that he held, is under the sea with his bones."

"There is a place, not far from here. An ancient ruin called Mathystra. It was once a city of night elves, but it fell when the Well of Eternity was destroyed. If you choose to go there, Shalimara, be very careful. The area is now overrun with stormscale naga and it lies just west of the Tower of Althalaxx which is a stronghold of the evil Athrikis and his Cult of the Dark Strand. There are many warlocks among his followers and evil satyrs."

"I will be careful," I promised.

"And so Little One, we must part. I will eagerly await news of your successes. For now, I will return this." He began to hand me the fake mantle but I stopped him. "No, Father Ancient, you keep it. It will be safe within your branches."

"Ahhhhh," he replied, blinking rapidly to forestall his tears. Without further comment, he turned from me and the last I saw him, he was again caressing the cloth against his gigantic cheek.

Chapter 6: Inside the Captain's Box

The dwarf held my eye for quite some time. I wasn't one for split decisions. Finally, I reckoned that I was going to have to find a rogue anyway, so it might as well be the one that stood before me. At least she was an acquaintance.

"Okay, I finally said. But not here. Let's go back to the our room at the inn."

"Very well." Feisty picked up her tools quickly and we headed back up the stairs. Much to our chagrin, there was a third party sleeping there. She was a tiny gnome dressed in wizard's robes, lying on top of the covers as if she had simple collapsed there.

"Mage?" I whisperd, jerking my thumb in that direction.

Feisty nodded. "That's a very nice staff she's carrying. Only seen one other like it. There's a cave full of trolls in the hills outside of Anvilmar. One of them's a big guy named Grik'nir the Cold...really nasty bugger. He carried a staff that looked just like hers. Shot frost bolts at me when I was just a tiny girl. I got sent on an errand into Coldridge Valley which led me to that cave--trying to find some journal that had been left there. Ran smack into that Grik'nir and barely made it out alive. Looks like that gnome had a bit better luck."

Our subject was quite still and didn't appear to be waking anytime soon, so I motioned Feisty over to my bed, which was more secluded than hers. She immediately extracted her paraphernalia and I pulled out the coffer, eager now to acquire the mantle.

Feisty worked at the box for what seemed like ah hour. She used several strange keys and picks in order to work the lock but to no avail. The stubborn clasp was determined not to open.

"Hmmmph," she said disgustedly. "I am a master picker, but this darn thing doesn't want to open." She pulled her dagger from her waist and tried to pry the catch off of the box. The silver blade flashed in the growing daylight and the several jewels on the handle would periodically emit sparks, a sure signe of a magical weapon. This didn't work either. Feisty reached for her mace and I think she would have battered it open in frustration had a voice from the other side of the room interrupted.

"You are not going to open it that way, Dwarf." The saucy looking gnome stood there with her hands on her hips. "That chest is impregnated with the Deep Magic of the Druids. Do you not see the markings across the top?"

Feeling foolish, I turned to the gnome. She was cute as gnomes come, with jet black hair pulled into two jaunty pony tails. Her eyes were as black as her hair and she wore a red and gold tabard that I recognized. She was guilded. A group called The Order of the Phoenix.

You would think that dwarfs and gnomes, being both small in stature, would have developed a common bond over the centuries but these two races merely tolerated each other. The gnomes were had high intellect and were very spirited. The looked at the dwarfs as if they were buffoons. Dwarfs, on the other hand, were agile and had great stamina. What they lacked in knowledge, they made up for in personality. In less important circumstances, their interaction might have been interesting for me to observe. Now, I just wanted to open the box and extract the Mantle of Myriad.

"I suppose you think you can do better?" Feisty challenged.

"Certainly, I can." The gnome replied. "The runes on the top give me the spell."

"Go for it then," said the dwarf and bowed.

"Rexena the Patient, at your service," the gnome said to me, pointedly ignoring the trace of sarcasm that Feisty had shot her. "For the Alliance!" With that, she pulled a golden tipped wand from the pack behind her. Red sparks flew from its tip as she waved it over her subject, muttering words in the gnomish language that I did not understand. The lid slowly began to open. Eagerly, Feisty and I looked into the box. To my dismay, it was empty.

"What the..." my new friend began, looking at the mage with a bit of suspcion, but Rexena was still chanting. As I watched, the contents of the box revealed itself. At first, there was a transparent, gossamer-like dust that clung to the air, and then the objects become more opaque until they were solid. There was a ring with a cracked emerald stone, a common fishing bauble, several unusual looking gold coins and a cloth like none I had ever seen before. It undulated and glittered, changing colors as we watched: blue, purple, pink, silver, green and blue again. I had never beheld anything so beautiful.

"The Mantle of Myriad," I breathed in excitement.

"That," intoned the gnome, "Is NOT the Mantle of Myriad. That cloak is a fake."

Chapter Five: A Dwarf Called Feisty

There didn't seem to be a gathering place such as the one in Darnassus, where everyone could sit of an evening, so I went upstairs to sleep, planning to rise early and begin my inquiries. The common sleeping room was practically empty, although there seemed to be a lot of coming and going--mostly people taking boats to various ports or the quicker but less thrifty hippogryph flights. One of the four beds in my room was occupied by what appeared to be a dwarf, judging from the size of the lump that was lying in the bed. The coverlet was drawn so tight around this little one that all you could see was the top of a blond head with one long braid falling across a pillow. There was no sign of gender but the snoring and snarling was so loud that it kept me awake for much longer than I wanted to be. My last thought as I finally drifted into slumber was, "This has to be a male for no female could make such a sound." Once again, I was proven wrong.

In the morning, much later than I had expected or indeed had wanted, I wakened to find an attractive and very female dwarf lacing up leggings and preparing to put on her boots.

"Hello!" I said cautiously, noticing that she had a very hefty looking mace as well as a silver-studded dagger in her belt.

"Top of the mornin' to ya," she replied. A second braid had appeared on the wide head and her stubby nose crinkled easily with laughter. "Never seen an elf sleeping when the sun had risen so high in the sky."

"Never had a dwarf snorting in my dreams all night," I thought in retort, but was too polite to say it.

She struck a stubby hand to her heart and saluted. "For the Alliance!" she said.

"For Kalimdor--Land of Eternal Starlight," I countered in the traditional way.

"And for Azeroth,"she completed the ritual. "Birthplace of all races."

We grinned at each other for a moment, then I too began to pull on my boots. It was going to be a long day searching for someone to open that box.

"What brings an elf so far out of Darnassus, might I ask?"the dwarf said conversationally.

"Not so far," I shot back, not eager to share secrets with a stranger. And then, not wishing to appear churlish I added, "I am from Aldrassil, under the One Tree, Teldrassil. That is where I call home."

"Ahhhh. A country girl," laughed the dwarf with a twinkle in her eye. "I am from Ironforge myself. Born and raised within the walls by the Great Forge. Feistyone is my name but my friends just call me Feisty. Kind of a nickname."

"Shalimara, Sister of Elune, Hunter of the Forest and Keeper of the Secrets of the Stars." I said impressively.

"Geesh, that's quite a handle." Feisty told me. "Okay if I just call you Shali for short?"

Shali, I knew, was the part of my name that meant purple flower. It was mara that meant bitter. It pleased me that I might be perceived as pleasant rather than sombre to the dwarf, so I nodded my acquiescence. I didn't know it then, but I was to become Shali throughout the rest of my days.

"So Shali, what have you got planned this fine day? Fancy a little fishing perhaps, or a quick run into Astranaar to see the sights? The Forest of Ashenvale is beautiful this time of year. Plenty of trees for an elf such as yourself to enjoy."

"My visit is not one for pleasure," I told her. "I have business here in Auberdine. And you?"

"I am hoping to drum up a little business myself," she admitted. "I am a miner, and there are a few nice deposits of copper and tin around these parts. I have also heard that there is a lost city completely enveloped in water that I would like to have a look at. They say that there are many treasures as yet to be found in there, what they call the Blackfathoms Deep." She winked at me. "We dwarfs like our treasures, you've probably heard."

I laughed at her admission for yes, I had heard that the race of dwarfs were very partial to shiny baubles and coins. Although I had never seen the great smelting furnaces for myself, the tales of the miners of Ironforge in the Eastern Kingdoms had made their way to the quiet lands of Teldrassil and to a little night elf girl-child.

"I'll be wanting my breakfast," Feisty told me, eyeing my pack. "Don't suppose you would care to join me in a bite? The Fish Eye has some nice fare. Fills your belly any ways."

"Alright," I said, as I finished the last lace on my boot. "I am a bit hungry."

In companionable silence, Feisty led me into the dining area of the Inn and we found a chair overlooking the pier. She was right about the food--there was a nice strider egg omelet and delicious crab pancakes on the menu. I was quite full and ready to be off in half an hour's time, but Feisty seemed inclined to linger. Finally I tried to make a gracious exit.

"Will you be back at the Inn tonight?" I asked.

"Perhaps," was her cryptic reply.

"I must be getting on with my work. Thank you for a pleasurable morning." I started back towards our room to retrieve my few belongings but Feisty had other ideas. Grabbing me by the arm she pulled me back down in my chair.

"What is it you got hidden there, Night Elf?" She questioned, eyeing the lump under my jerkin expectantly.

"I don't understand." I replied.

"I have never known a Night Elf to tell lies," Feisty remonstrated. "I know you got something hidden under your shirt. I know that it's something mighty important, the way you've been hanging onto it all night, muttering in your dreams."

I was startled. I didn't know that I had spoken in my sleep. What had I said that aroused the suspicions of the dwarf? I countered with, "It is a box. A box that belonged to my parents. They were lost in the Great Sundering. It is all that I have left of them." It was the truth, as far as I wanted to reveal.

"Let me see it," Feisty demanded.

"No. I have nothing else. There isn't any money if that is what you're after. It is only a rusty old box."

"Shali, Hunter, you foolish one." the dwarf shook her head dismissively. "You speak the truth, I feel that, but only part of the truth. I don't want to rob you. I want to see if I can help."

"How could a dwarf help me?"

She laughed openly, "Well," she admitted, "Unlike the Night Elves, the dwarfs are not always known for their integrity. While you slept last night, you said several times, 'I can't get it open.' and 'where am I going to find a lock pick'. Shali, I am not only dwarven, I am of the class of people known as a rogue. I can help you pick that lock! I am quite skilled at lock picking." And with that she pulled a lock picking kit from her backpack and looked at me questioningly. "Will you trust me?"

Chapter Four: Diving Towards Destiny

I could tell that the murlocs were armed and that made them quite dangerous, but I also could see something that made me catch my breath. Like the tip of an iceberg far out in Northrend, there was a ship's mast jutting out of the water and it was fairly close to the land. Was this the Silver Dawning? It had to be.

To my good fortune, I had always found it a simple task to meld into the shadows. I blended easily into the rocks just above the cove and watched the murlocs scurrying around. When darkness fell, I would make my move towards the wreck. In the meantime, I rested--occasionally turning to observe a group of thistle bears and striders behind me. I could make bear steaks later, if I hungered, but for now I was satisfied just to wait.


I was at that place where I was too tired to sleep but the peacefulness of the evening was rejuvenating and by the time the stars began to peek from their hiding places above me, I was ready. Creeping into the water just south of the gigantic shell and its inhabitants, I began to swim towards the submerged vessel. Just before reaching the mast, I drank the first sip of the potion Steelhand had given me. Miraculously, I found I could breathe normally, even when I put my head beneath the surface. And so I dove.

The wrecked ship looked black, its shape barely discernible in the inky sea. I swam toward the place where I knew it would be, waiting for my sight to adjust. I hadn't counted on the fact that murlocs can also breathe underwater. No sooner had I begun my descent into the hull of the ship, than they came at me, their little spears like so many miniature tridents and their squeals seemingly of delight.


The simple bow I carried was almost not enough to subdue these creatures. They may have been dumb, as the old man had told me, but they were sneaky. Four of the five of them had magic. As I darted here and there, bow twanging, they were casting at me as fast as I could dodge. Several times I was stunned by their spells and finally I melded and hid in the shadows. The vicious little monsters soon thought that I was gone and, with the skill of a rogue, I passed by the sentries and into the belly of the Silver Dawning.

At first I could not see anything, and I dared not use any light even though I carried a Star of Elune in my traveler's pack. The creatures just above my head were making a strange chattering noise that was unnerving but helped me to pinpoint their location. I searched somewhat randomly, trying to avoid broken beams in the great cavity that was once a mighty hold. Then, as I drank my second swig of potion, I saw it. Tucked away, in the farthest and darkest corner of what might have been the captain's quarters, something emitted a faint sparkle.


I had to investigate as it was almost beckoning me forward. When I had swum towards the shiny particles, they slowly took shape. It was a box. A lock box--small, with a little metal handle that caught the moonlight and caused the glistening. I tried to pop the lock but it wouldn't open. This did not deter me. I felt that this was Captain Kenundrom's secret box deep in the roots of my believing. Hiding it beneath my dark brown tabard, I began the ascent to the surface.

Surprisingly, the murlocs appeared to be gone when I got back to the deck. There was one body lying where I had left it, so I checked the corpse and found a stash of clam shells. They popped open and revealed some raw clam meat. This would make an excellent supper and I began to feel the pangs of hunger. The thistle bear, the grouper and the clam meat...what the humans would call surf and turf. I laughed out loud. This almost proved to be my undoing.

Out of the murky sea there came a creature much more intense than the murlocs. It had four legs that were short and chunky, a long neck that arched, and a tail that seemed to create balance as it swished through the waters. A thresher! I had only heard tell of threshers in my Tomes of Learning, but I knew that they bit so severely that the bite could become infected and prove fatal. With a swift kick up from the deck, I grabbed hold of the mast where it jutted above the surface just as the thresher reached me. At first I thought it was going to crawl right up into the crow's nest with me. Then it satisfied itself with an arrogant snap of its jaws and disappeared beneath the waves. I waited for quite awhile, clinging precariously to the ship and wondering if this is what the captain had done as she sank beneath him. I realized I was growing fatigued and my breathing was reverting to normal. Quickly I downed my third draught and continued my watch. Then, when I was certain that the thresher was no longer nearby, I swam for the shore.


Too tired to hunt, I made a meagre meal of the clams and fish over a small camp fire. I had learned cooking from a man in Dolanaar and it had already served me well several times although I was not very advanced. When sated, I tried to open the lock box once more. It was impossible. I tried to pick it with my dagger and almost broke the blade. Even swiping at it with my sword was to no avail. Back at the inn, I had an axe. It was my weapon of choice for battle but even this would not suffice. I knew nothing was going to open this box, except a rogue with lock picking skills.

I had heard of those called rogues and in fact had suspected several of the dwarfs and gnomes that had passed by way in Darnassus as being of this profession. They would sit gathered in the inns, swilling strange brews and telling tales that were uproarious to each other. I had never joined into this frivolity, being much too serious and much to deep into my studies. Now I wish I had befriended a few, for they might have been able to help me. I decided that I should try my luck by the morning light and with a tip of head in salute to the Silver Dawning, I hearthed back to Auberdine and some much needed rest.

Chapter 3: The Box of Mystery

Shocked, I couldn't say anything. The wrinkled face was far away, in a distant time anyway, maybe feeling the mist hitting his skin as the Silver Dawning skimmed across the water. It was quite some time before he came back to the present and by then I was ready with a question.

"Captain Kenundrom died that day?"

"Yes, went down with the Dawning. And everything he had went with 'im."

"Everything he had?"

"Well...the Captain has this box ya see. He kept things in it and weren't nobody allowed to see. But one time, when he weren't paying me no mind, I caught a glimmer of something shiny in that there box."

"Coins? Jewels?" I queried.

"Nah, this were something different than them usual things. I couldn't really see it ya see, but I coulda sworn it was some sort of shiny...well, cloth. I know that sounds wrong, but that's what it looked like to me."

Cloth? This had to be the Mantle! But would it have been shiny? I didn't know.

"If yer interested in the Silver Dawning or in her sister the Mist Veil, you should go see my ol' pal Steelhand up in the town. He know all the stories. He were the First Mate on the ship, but don't tell nobody of his former profession. He got a reputation to take care of. Just tell 'im Gubber Blump sent you. He most likely be standing right outside the inn."

I thanked the old man and gave him 40 silver to pay for the grouper which I took with me. He seemed glad to have it, and he said before I ran back up the beach, "Keep that pole my friend. It be one of the famous Glump family poles. It will help yer with yer fishin'. "

True to his word, I found Gorbold Steelhand close to the Inn. He didn't seem surprised when I approached him.

"Let me guess," he chuckled. "That old scoundrel Gubber Blump has been telling tales again, has he? Ten or twenty times a day, he sends someone to me and asks them to keep his secret. Well, what's your tale Night Elf?"

Crestfallen, I asked, "So his story isn't true?"

"Oh no," Steelhand replied. "It's true, every word. Captain went down with the ship and the box which held his treasures is lost beneath the ocean, if those murlocs didn't get it. The Captain, though, he would have hidden it well. He was very particular about that box."

"Has anyone ever tried to find the shipwreck? Has anyone ever looked for it?"

"Why sure! The old fisherman sends people up here all the time and lots of men have gone looking for that wreck. Not many come back, Hunter. It's those murlocs. They resent humans, elves, dwarfs...any race but their own. They're mean and willing to fight to the death to protect that old turtle shell they live in. Goodness knows what they've got hidden in there. Old fish bones, I guess, that they like to gnaw on."

"I want to try," I told him. "Will you take me to the place where the Silver Dawning went down?"

"Take you? No way. Those murlocs just about killed me the first time and it was only by the skin of my teeth that I escaped. But you won't be able to miss the place. That big old shell is washed up on the sand about a mile down the beach and it will be swarming with the varmints."

"Okay. Well, wish me luck Mr. Steelhand. I am going to try and find that box."

"Good luck to you, Hunter." He fished around in his pocket for a moment and produced a small vial of a blue-colored liquid. "Use this potion. It's a secret family recipe. It will help you to breathe under the water. But don't stay down longer than half an hour or it will wear off and you will surely drown. I've given you enough there for five dives. Use it smartly."

"Thank you, sir." I said, palming the drink gratefully. "I will be the one that returns."

"I believe you," he called after me as I rounded the corner heading towards the cove. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Shalimara," I hollered back and then he was gone and I was dodging crab pincers as I ran along the waterside. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I stopped running. There in the distance I could see the remains of a gigantic sea turtle, and true to the man's warning, it was swarming with the little blue-green creatures they had called murlocs.

Part 2: The Wreck of the Silver Dawning

Upon reaching Auberdine, I checked into the Inn. It was my first experience living among a people other than the elves, although I had many experiences with other races in Darnassus. I was surprised at the comfort the inn provided and would like to have slept, but I really needed to find the man in question. I asked the Innkeeper, but she had not heard the name before. This was troubling to me, as I expected Kenundrom to be in Auberdine. For the first time I was surprised and stymied by my own misconception.

To clear my brain, I decided to take a walk along the shore. Under the pier there was an old fisherman. I asked if I could borrow a pole and sat with him in silence as the crabs scuttled across the sand. When we had acquired a pile of fish, the man began to speak,

"Night Elf," he said, "I want to tell you a story. It's about me and a beautiful ship that used to sail into this harbor. Her name was the Silver Dawning and she were one sleek lady, let me tell you. Now the Silver Dawning was said to be a treasure seeker. She roamed the shores between here and the Secret Island that only a few knew about. Her crew were motley as they come. I know this because I were one of 'em."

I took a really long look at him now and could see the weathered skin and roughened hands of a sailor. He also had a long scar that ran the length of his face This was barely visible beneath the tattered hat he wore pulled low across his brow.

"You were pirates?" I asked, realizing the truth before it was said.

"Some called us that. Yes." He replied and looked up at me with a wary eye. Not seeing any adverse reaction reflected in my face, he continued. "We were sailing one night under the cover of dark and we was set upon by a large group of bandits unexpectedly. There must have been fifty or sixty of them and we weren't prepared. The Captain fought hard and so did us men, but it weren't no good. They caught us all and sunk the Silver Dawning. She lies at the bottom of the cove, just a few miles up the Darkshore there."

"How did you escape?" I was intrigued by the honesty and sorrow in his voice as he spoke.

"Them robbers, they were what we call murlocs. Little green and blue creatures that live in the water. Murlocs are fierce fighters and they're not much afraid to kill. But they are as dumb as seaweed and it were easy to get away. They live in the shells of huge dead turtles that have washed up on the sand and once they crawled in there to sleep, it were easy for us to sneak around the sentries and run back to town and tell 'em what happened."

I had never heard of murlocs before, but I wasn't eager to meet one. "And did everyone survive?"

"Arr...we lost a rogue named Rouenfils and a magic user that was traveling to the Island with us. And the Captain went down with the Dawn. The last I saw of him, he were helping the cook over the side and swinging his sword like a berzerker. He were a brave man, he were, that Captain Kenundrom.'

Chapter One...I Am Born...

My first memory is from a time in which I was relatively new born. I was lying under The Mother Tree in Teladrassil and glorying in the beauty of my home. My father was the druid Laurent and my mother a wood elf named Yves. I was destined to love Kalimdor and brought up in the manner of all elven-kind: to seek balance between earth and sky, wood and sea. My name was chosen for its meaning: "bitter purple flower".

Why bitter you may ask? Because my parents knew the plight of the night elves and indeed, they fell prey to powers that sought to annihilate the very essence of our being and the sorrow brought by the destroyers--those that are now called the Horde. I survived because I lay hidden beneath the roots of that same tree which became the symbol of all survivors and a home base from which to begin my journey--one that would take me away from Kalimdor to the farthest reaches of the world.

I trained in the ways of the hunter more for protection and preservation than anything else. My first tasks were simple and my teacher was Givenchy, the Lore Master of the Stars. He taught me to seek nourishment from the plants and animals of the forest. He showed me the basics of making armor from the skins I acquired and when I was merely sixteen years of age, sent me to Darnassus to join the ranks of the Cenarion Circle. And there I learned to ride the black tiger and the intricacies of the bow.

One day, shortly after my training was complete, I was sent on a journey across the sea to the town of Auberdine. My task was a simple one: to acquire the Mantle of Myriad--a magical cloak that had belonged to my parents and contained their story in its threads. I was told that there were secrets woven into the folds of the cloak, tales held by the fibers which would explain my heritage and what my life's mission must be. The cloak was multi-colored, like a field of wild flowers and impregnated with my father's magic. I, and only I, could use it.

I thought that finding the cloak would be simple. Little did I know that its very existence would soon be in question and that a duplicate had been made that contained no magic. I was given one name--Kenundrom. My orders, to find this human and discover where he had hidden the Mantle of Myriad.