World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

[WindStruck]

Outside the Pavilions

The rain had begun to drizzle more. "That is a good question, isn't it? Who would rule Silvermoon and control the destiny of our people? Why should we adhere to tradition blindly following those who forsake our heritage and cherry pick what they want to uphold? But.. I don't know what we are actually dealing with. Maybe it's cowardice. Maybe it's not humility at all, but grandiosity. Maybe it's just sheer foolhardiness.. either way.. it disgusts me..."

As the rain picks up, Isaera says, "We aren't alone in our beliefs, Zalael. But.. our people.. but truly, our people, us Quel'dorei.. I feel we shall be alone, without any allies we can fall back onto. Not even our king anymore..." She sniffles a bit. "Farewell. I hope to see you again."

Isaera scurries inside as the torrential downpour ensues.


Inside the Pavilion

The high elf arrives inside the tent with muddied feet and sandals, a drenched dress that sags on her, and somewhat tousled hair, looking like a drowned rat. She peers about at the jubilant Mor'Lag, the smashed Marion, affable Jakk'ari and.. the unexpected Furbolg?

She catches the tail end of what Jakk'ari says. "Five missing allies? Who....?"

Isaera looks curiously at the Furbolg. 'Roshorn'? Or was that one of the missing persons.

"I didn't know we had a visitor. What's going on?"