Farsong

Teldrassil welcomed Farsong with the soft glow of moonlight and the polite sigh of ancient trees that had stood long enough to have opinions about everything. The night hummed gently, as though the forest itself were whispering, do try not to break anything.

Awakening amid the tranquil shadows, they found themselves watched by owls, spirits, and at least one sentinel pretending very hard not to stare. Nature waited, dignified and mildly suspicious.

Thus began a kaldorei journey: graceful, solemn, and accompanied by the constant feeling that the trees were quietly judging their posture.

In the company of Moonrend, Silkslash, Mistgaze and Wildmender, Farsong felt a subtle shift — a strengthening, a sharpening, or perhaps simply the realization that surviving things together tends to make one more capable out of sheer necessity.

Moonrend may have noticed it first, offering a nod, a noise, or a mildly concerned look. Regardless, the improvement was undeniable: the world now faced a slightly more resilient band of troublemakers than it had moments before.

The journey continued, now with marginally fewer opportunities for comedy at their expense.

The corruption festering in Shadowglen was not the sort of thing that politely fixed itself. Fortunately, Farsong and Moonrend, Silkslash, Mistgaze and Wildmender were exactly the kind of people who walked toward ominous noises instead of away from them, an admirable trait unless you ask the healers.

Together they ventured into the heart of the disturbance. The corrupted foe greeted them with an impressive roar, quickly followed by an even more impressive look of surprise at how many visitors it suddenly had. With Silkslash providing a timely distraction and the rest contributing various degrees of competence, the group overcame the threat in dramatic fashion.

The forest sighed in relief. The druids tried to look authoritative. Farsong discovered that some challenges are best faced with friends who are just as baffled by the situation.

The forest had a long memory and very little patience for poor life choices, particularly those involving satyrs. Farsong and Moonrend, Silkslash, Mistgaze and Wildmender returned under that wary canopy, not as wayward accomplices, but as volunteers for the difficult art of making things right.

Together they hunted down Foulhoof, whose confidence evaporated the moment he realized his audience now included multiple very motivated individuals. Moonrend delivered the sort of corrective demonstration that even a satyr could understand, while the others gathered the fel taint he had scattered about with reckless enthusiasm.

When the deed was done and the offerings brought back, the forest stilled. Branches swayed with something that might have been approval, or at least a decision to stop glowering quite so hard. Farsong and Moonrend, Silkslash, Mistgaze and Wildmender left with the uneasy but welcome feeling that Teldrassil had agreed to give them another chance.

Solving the Defias Brotherhood crisis was work for a group with patience, teamwork, and a high tolerance for nonsense. Farsong and Wildmender, Silkslash, Moonrend and Mistgaze fit that description perfectly.

Together they peeled back the layers of intrigue, enduring disguises, secret meetings, and at least one incident where Silkslash fell from something that had no business being climbed. In the end, the leaders of the Brotherhood were confronted and defeated.

Westfall breathed easier. The Brotherhood had new names to complain about in their campfire tales.