Kaldur Winterwind and the Interrogators Orb

Introduction

This is a story thread I kicked off about my character on the Natures Grasp forum a few months ago. I've posted it here because I wanted to share it with a wider audience and also promote Natures Grasp which is the best Night Elf only guild on the realm. I plan to keep adding the next bit of the story every couple of days.

Background to the Character

Kaldur Winterwind was born in Astranaar 968 years ago. His close bond with nature led him to become a druid. He was a natural in feral forms. Much of his time in Azeroth was spent amongst the mountain beasts of Winterspring. Entering the emerald dream allowed him to adopt animal form all the time and be a ferocious predator in a world untainted by higher beings.

8 years ago he was awoken from the emerald dream to face the onslaught of the Burning Legion. When he first awoke he was still dominated by his feral forms and found it difficult to function as an elf. Because of this he was outcast by his family. He returned to Winterspring and after a period of isolation he slowly began to regain a sense of his old self. He travelled the world, meeting the new races, before recently returning to his homeland and joining the Order of Nature's Grasp.

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Part I

The night elves are an honorable, just and compassionate people. They do not trust many of the lesser races of the world, whom they see as foolish and too short-lived to recall the mistakes made in the past. Many of the night elves consider it their duty to ensure the safety and balance of the world. Because of this perceived air of superiority, many of the younger races mistrust the night elves; if not for their shadowy magic then for their aloof and judging demeanor.

Kaldur woke with a start. His head whole head was throbbing and there was a sharp pain behind his left ear. As he rolled his head to the right to relieve the pressure, he felt the dank wetness that was the pool of blood congealed in his hair. All his limbs ached. Slowly, he became aware of the stinging wounds on his skin that he had sustained in the fight. He raised his hands to study the wound on his head, but found he could barely lift them. He looked down at his hands. As he blinked to bring the world into focus, he realised they were in restraints.

Kaldur was lying strapped to a wooden table in a dusty room. Little light was available, but the elf tried to get a sense of where he was. He could make out wooden walls and ceilings. Strange equipment occupied the desks and shelves either side of him. He could hear buzzing and bubbling that came from the devices around him. Besides his own blood, he could smell chemicals and dusts that reminded him of the mages in Dalaran.

Satisfied he had taken in what he could of his surroundings, Kaldur tried to focus on how he had gotten here. A month ago he had left his brothers and sisters of Natures Grasp in the Ghostlands after aiding the dwarves. He had travelled south and arrived in Coren’s Crossing to find it had been recently vacated. He suspected the group would return here again a month later, and this time he had planned to be there early. He had been careful as he approached. He had seen people ahead of him… the blow to his head must have interrupted his memory of what had happened next.

Despite the possibility of death and torture, a wry smile came across Kaldurs face. “Finally” he thought. After so long he had almost given up hope. So much time spent travelling. Three years of searching and looking - this was the closest he had gotten to his goal. Maybe today he would get some answers.

There was the sound of boots coming up stairs. Maybe three or four people he thought. As the door opened it creaked, but brought with it a welcome breeze of fresh air. Whilst several pairs of boots went still, one pair advanced towards him.

“Welcome Night Elf!” a gentle male voice spoke in Common. “I hope we did not harm you too much getting you here.”

A male Blood Elf towered over Kaldur. His facial features were much like Kaldurs own - except this elf was pale and his features, instead of providing a look of kindness and peace, seemed to invite hatred and loathing. His eyes were deep purple like Earthsiege diamonds. His relentless stare penetrated Kaldurs own gaze.

Part II

Ten thousand years ago there was an elite magic-using sect known as the Highborne. They dabbled in magics that many other elves considered heretical. Fiercely loyal to Queen Ashzara, the Highborne opened a number of portals under her direction that brought forth the Burning Legion, triggering the War of the Ancients. After the Great Sundering the surviving Highborne were exiled from Kalimdor. They settled in the eastern continent founding the kingdom of Quel'Thalas. They became known as High Elves. During this time, they created the Sunwell, and switched to a diurnal waking cycle. Their purple skin eventually faded to a pale peach color, like that of humans and dwarves.

“You have been following us for some time, have you not Druid?” the Blood Elf said.

“It has been my mission to seek out deceit for Staghelm for some time now, so yes.” Kaldurs reply was met with a disbelieving look from the Blood Elf.

“On Staghelms orders you say? We already know a little of you, but we know we cannot believe your words”. The Blood Elf signalled to the back of the room. “You followed us here once before. This time we were ready for you.”

Two figures moved past Kaldurs side. They were dressed in simple robes that covered them from head to foot. Kaldur heard them dragging something along the floor by his feet. Moments later the figures reappeared by his side. They had brought with them a large chest. Its appearance was strange to Kaldur. It seemed to be a wooden table supporting a large metal box. The side of the box facing Kaldur was open and housed a black orb.

One of the robed figures brought out another device that was attached to the box with wires. It looked like a rough metal crown. Unceremoniously, he pushed this onto Kaldurs head. The other faceless figure looked on, then turned to the device and pulled a large lever.

The machine clanked and grinded. A few seconds later the orb within started to glow faint blue. As the sounds of machinery inside the box faded, a faint hum could be heard coming from the orb. The device around Kaldurs head felt hot.

“It is time we found out a bit about you druid”. The blood elf snarled. “This may hurt… a little.”

Kaldur watched as one of the figures started operating controls on the box, but he could not watch for long. The burning around his head grew to a terrible intensity. It felt like needles were penetrating his skull and being drawn behind his eyes. He shut his eyes fast against the pain. As Kaldurs eyes closed there were flashes in his mind. He saw a flurry of images – Nordrassil before the fall; sitting on his fathers knee as he was being read a story; picking herbs atop the cold mountains in Winterspring; a baby girl he was meeting for the first time…

Perhaps this is what it is like to die he thought. The images were coming quicker and quicker - he barely had time to recognise each one. He tried to fight the madness being thrust on him and made a mental effort to push them out of his mind. As Kaldur opened his eyes the box to his left came into focus once more. He blinked at the orb within the box.

“How can this be?” he said.

Images were appearing on the orb. They seemed to reflect the images that were in his mind.

“It is time to see, what your words will not tell us druid.” The Blood Elf cackled. “And time we got to know our enemy.”

Part III

Malfurion Stormrage started the practice of druidism among the night elves under the tutelage of the demigod Cenarius. Following the conclusion of the War of the Ancients, he became the Archdruid of the night elves. Often he is called shan'do, meaning "honored teacher". He is the twin brother of Illidan Stormrage, and the beloved of Tyrande Whisperwind.

Fandral Staghelm is the Archdruid of Darnassus, and succeeded Malfurion Stormrage after he was lost in the Emerald Nightmare. He is in a constant power struggle with Tyrande Whisperwind, High Priestess of Elune, for leadership of the night elf people, and was one of the architects of the plan to create Teldrassil. Some think he may have played a role in Malfurions disappearance.


“Nonsense!” an Elf exclaimed. He banged his fist on the table to exaggerate his point. A few other elves turned and looked at the Elf, but with Kaldur it barely registered. He was used to such outbursts from his father.

“Thalun, you must see the boy has talent!” An older Elf professed to the first. “Patience, discipline, an understanding of nature… he should surely become a druid. I would train him myself.”

Kaldur looked up at his grandfather - a tall, wise, and gentle Elf. His father and maternal grandfather often argued like this at family events, especially when they were discussing Kal. His grandfather was a highly respected druid. They said he had been trained by Malfurion himself - although that name meant little to Kaldur at this point. What mattered to Kaldur was that his grandfather could transform himself into a tree and had a touch that could cure all manner of scratched knees and bumped heads.

“Kal!”

He looked up and saw his mother. She beckoned him over. Kaldur slowly stood and then ran to his mother.

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“What did they quarrel about?” the Blood Elf asked.

Kaldur and his captor had been at this for some time now – reviewing the images of his life. When Kaldur stopped fighting it, having the device access his memories was not unpleasant. His captor would sometimes stop to ask questions. He did not mind answering. Very little seemed to be of any relevance to Night Elf security – in fact most of the family and friends he spoke of were long dead. He was starting to find the process almost therapeutic.

“My father was a warrior. Noble, strong. He came from a family of fighters, closely aligned to Staghelm” replied Kaldur. “Whereas my mothers family shared the views of Tyrande. Discussing me was a way of discussing politics. My mothers and fathers union caused an outrage in the two families, yet they were well matched in other respects.”

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“Help me pick the petals from these Mageroyals would you?” his mother asked. “And stay away from your father and grandfather, you know how they like to quarrel about you.”
Kaldur picked up the first Mageroyal from the pile of herbs. He knew all their names and properties by heart. His mother Abïus was a celebrated herbalist. She had not become a druid like her father but had a valuable skill with herbs and making restorative potions.

As he worked he noticed a group of young girls playing. One of them stood out from the crowd in Kal’s eyes. Growing up they had been close friends and almost inseparable. In the last few years they had drifted apart. She now played mostly with her female friends whilst Kaldur spent most of his time with the boys. He did not understand girls. When together with Arile now, they both felt slightly awkward. When she spoke to him Kal found it easier to look at his feet than straight at her face. Arile had changed in her figure and shape in the last few years – changes Kal was starting to notice and find curiously interesting.

“Concentrate on your work Kal.”

He looked up and saw his mother. She had been following his gaze, and gave him one of her all-knowing smiles. Mothers could be so embarrassing, he thought.

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“You find this memory comforting?” the Blood Elf asked.

Kaldur smiled gently. For a few minutes the memory had taken him away from the wooden table on which he lay fastened.

“Despite the arguing, it was always good to have my family together…” he smiled at the orb. Then, as if he had almost forgotten it, his look changed to one of sorrow. “They’re all dead now of course.”

Part IV

The Emerald Dream is a vast, ever-changing spirit world that exists outside the boundaries of the physical world. It is how the world would have been if intelligent beings had not altered its surface. With the creation of the world tree Nordrassil, the Kaldorei druids were bound to the Emerald Dream in which they spent centuries of their immortal lives. Locked in slumber in the barrow dens for generations, the druids awoke from the Dream to meet the threat of the Burning Legion.

Kaldur stood atop his prey and his paws penetrated its flesh. The deer had not suffered – its death had been quick at the hands of this great cat. He breathed deeply pausing a moment to take in the sights and smells of the beautiful world around him. He had lived in the emerald dream for so long, he had almost forgotten that the other world existed.

Suddenly there was a wrenching pull from behind. Kaldur felt like he was being dragged away from inside his own head. Fangs gave way to teeth, claws to fingers, fur to skin. Kaldur had been woken from the emerald dream and was in elven form once more. He took a deep breath to let out a roar, but all that came forward was a cry.

He lay curled up on an earthen floor. In the time he had laid there the earth had moulded itself to his shape. His eyes opened with some difficulty. In the light of the Barrow Den he could just make out the face of another Night Elf towering above him. The elf spoke.

“Wake brother Kaldur! The hour of our destruction is at hand. Your people need you to fight!”

Kaldur looked blinkingly at his own hands. How unfamiliar they felt. He had rarely seen them in the last few centuries. During his time in the emerald dream he very rarely chose this form. The elf above him was unfamiliar, yet the two females in the corner were not. His former lover and their child stood together, partly obscured by shadows. Something about them was not right. They had aged a little yes, but their clothing was ripped and torn. The elder one was holding her arm as if wounded. The shadows could not hide the look of deep sorrow spread across their faces.

“Why am I here?” Kaldur asked. “I never wished to awake”.

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Kaldur and his captor watched the orb. The pain of this moment had haunted him like no other. He watched as the previous version of himself learnt of the destruction of Nordrassil, then the death of his father Thalun. He lay curled on the ground, crying and whimpering. He hit at the floor and shook whilst the two female Kal’dorei tried to comfort him.

“The destruction of your homeland. The death of your father.” The Blood Elf above him said. “Yet I think it was mortality that hurt you the most. You thought you would live forever.”

A tear escaped Kaldurs eye. The pit he had felt in his stomach since that day burned again. How vulnerable he felt.

“But it gets worse.” Kaldur whispered.

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“You’re family need you Kaldur. We’re going to fight and you should be there by our side. Even my father will be with us in battle.”

It was later now, Kaldur was on his feet and his tears had dried. The elf that had woken him had left. Only his ex-lover and his daughter remained.

“Only death awaits us against the burning legion Arile. We are not what we once were.” He replied. “You should not take our daughter there.”

“Father… Do not leave us.” The pleading words came from his daughter as he moved to go.

Kaldur looked for a moment at his daughters face then turned to the exit. He was in cat form again in no time, and sprinting towards freedom.

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“So now we do know what you are druid. A coward!” the Blood Elf spoke.

Kaldur said nothing. The look of disappointment and betrayal that he had seen on his daughters face hurt him more than words ever would. It was the last image he had of her.

Part V

Druids are keepers of the world who walk the path of nature, following the wisdom of the Ancients and Cenarius, healing and nurturing the world. To a druid, nature is a delicate balance of actions, in which even the smallest imbalance can create storming turmoil from peaceful skies. Druids draw their power from this wild energy, using it to change their shapes and command the forces of nature.

A large cat trudged mournfully through the snow. Its head was held low as it dragged its prey in its jaws. Its eyes were shut fast against the oncoming sleet. The animal it had caught was little bigger than a hare, yet it contained enough meat to sustain the cat for another day.

In the most northern reaches of Winterspring little vegetation could survive, and herbivores were rare. Why a predator would choose to live in such a hostile and isolated environment was a puzzle to the dwarf. Still, it would be interesting game to catch. The dwarf was fed up of the cold and longed for the cosiness and warmth of an inn. The mission of exploration here was almost at an end. This was a relief to Stout - a party of dwarves is difficult to manage once your supply of beer has to be rationed. This catch would bolster group morale and fill their stomachs on the trip back Everlook.

As the cat disappeared over the hill a loud snap was heard followed by a yelp. The dwarf grabbed his gear and sprinted towards his prey. As he approached he lowered his rifle and looked down its length at his victim. What he saw was unexpected.

“On me life! Wha’ the…” the dwarf began.

Instead of the cat he expected to find in the trap, he saw a tall male Night Elf. The elf’s right leg was in the trap whilst its hands were fighting to free it. Stout had met many elves before, even fought along side a few, but he had never seen an elf that looked as wild and as savage as this one – nor as angry.

The elf looked up at Stout.

“You’d better kill me now Halfling, because once I get free of your bas***d trap I will tear you limb from limb!”

Fortunately the dwarf understood little of this as Kaldur could only express himself in his own people’s language. The guilty looking dwarf ran and threw himself at Kaldurs feet. He started furiously unfastening screws on the trap and muttering apologies under his breath.

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Kaldur laughed for the first time in days.

“I do not know who was more surprised – the dwarf who found he had caught an elf, or me for walking into his primitive trap.”

“Amusing, I am sure.” The Blood Elf replied. “But you said this memory represented a turning point in your life.”

“Indeed. After leaving the Barrow Den I ran here to escape the world. I spent maybe five years in those mountains, alone.” Kaldur said. “Stout changed all that. He opened my eyes to the new world. I travelled with his party for a year before exploring the Eastern Kingdoms.”

“But more than that, he gave me a chance to re-enter the world without facing my own people.” The laughter disappeared from Kaldurs voice. “I had deserted my people in their hour of need. I did not know what other elves thought of me.”

They watched the last few images of this memory in silence. Then the Blood Elf turned to Kaldur.

“But you have returned to your people now. What happened?” he asked.

“My family could not face the shame of what I had done. They told other elves that I was feral, that I was dangerous, and I was not safe to be among them.”

“And what did you say? What did you tell of your cowardice when you joined your Natures Grasp?”

Kaldur hesitated for a moment. He thought of the chance meeting with the striking Sentinel he had met in Stormwind that resulted in him wanting to join the order. He thought of all his friends who had put their trust in him.

“I told the same lie.” He replied with regret sounding in his voice.

I enjoy reading your stories as always, Kaldur. I always smile when I see the little tag on the Library forum that says "Kaldur". ^^

Yey, someone finally wrote on my forum. Thanks Shaelyssa - I was beginning to think no one was out there...

Part VI

A druid's empathy with the creatures of the wild also allows him to shapeshift into the forms of other animals. A wounded druid whose magical energies are running low might abruptly take on the form of a bear in order to better withstand further injury. Alternatively, the druid might shift into the form of some large cat, sneak up behind an enemy, then pounce and deliver a fierce flurry of melee attacks. Even the deepest oceans can be explored by a druid, who can simply shift into an aquatic creature, allowing him to stay underwater as long as needed.

In the Eastern Plaguelands, in Coren’s Crossing, in the upstairs room of a wooden shack, a Night Elf was being held captive by a group of robed figures. The elf lay on a rough wooden table. His wrists were secured at either side by shackles. He was wounded yet not seriously hurt. A metal crown on his head attached him to a box containing a light blue orb. The humming orb periodically filled the room with flashes. All present in the room had their attention focused on the orb and the images it showed.

It displayed a series of battles and fights. The focus of its scenes was a tall blue haired elf that looked just like the one who lay in the centre of the room. This elf was strong. He seemed to be capable of spontaneously shifting his form – sometimes an elf, sometimes a great bear, sometimes a dangerously fast and agile cat. The result was an impressive figure that fought with a mixture of ferocity and grace. He lay waste to all the opponents he fought. When he landed a particularly strong blow you may have thought some of the hooded figures in the room jumped. If their faces were not covered you may have thought they looked nervous - almost afraid.

If the Blood Elf was scared he did not show it.

“Impressive.” He said.

Kaldur did not need this flattery, but was glad to feel the unease of his other captors. Even in elven form he could detect the scent of fear.

“You did fight. After years of hiding, you turned and fought.” The Blood Elf exclaimed. They had watched Kaldur fight in Kalimdor, the Eastern Kingdoms, Outland, and later Northrend.

“Everywhere you went, you found evil, and you fought against it. Even in your beloved Natures Grasp you seem to have never turned down a chance to fight. What changed? Did you feel you had to prove yourself?” the Blood Elf asked, staring hard into Kaldurs face.

Kaldur paused before making his reply. For some time now he had been thinking about the fourth person in the room. To begin with he had not been sure they were there. Out of sight - only occasional faint sounds betrayed their presence. Was this person in charge or merely an observer, Kaldur could not be sure.

“No.” he replied slowly. “I realised there were more important things I could lose than my life.”

For a few seconds the image on the orb changed. As Kaldur thought about his daughter, her face flashed on screen. It was the last image Kaldur had of her - it was the look of disappointment and betrayal he had seen when he left her in the Barrow Den.

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The image may have been unnoticed to the other captors, but it affected a change in the silent figure at the back of the room. For a brief second a hand appeared from under its robe. It performed a complex and fast movement in the air as if signalling an unknown force. In an instant the bindings around Kaldurs wrists went slack, and the hand once again disappeared from view.

Part VII

A family is an exclusive group of people who share a close relationship. They are a unit traditionally composed of a mated couple and their dependent children (procreation) in co-residence. Families create generations—each of which gain in maturity and self sufficiency such as to create and provide for subsequent generations.

As Kaldur felt his bindings go slack he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew something was wrong. This “interrogation” had not been what he expected. His captors had been pleasant until now – but soon they would want something from him, and if he did not comply, then the tide would turn.

His main captor, the unmasked Blood Elf stood over him, inspecting his features. Without another moments pause he slipped his right hand from its binding and landed a blow across the face of the Blood Elf. The unexpecting captor fell backwards, tripped on his robe, and toppled onto the floor. Kaldur fluidly slipped his other wrist from its binding, slid over the edge of the table, and landed upright on his feet. The wounds that had ached so much before were insignificant compared to the rage building within him.

The two robed captors working the device did not remain still. One turned to face Kaldur and pulled a knife from his belt. The other came around his back and put his arms around him. As a roar came from Kaldur, the captor realised he was now embracing a great bear. The bear reached round, put a paw on the stunned captors shoulder, and threw him from his back. He was sent hurtling into the orb – it shattered in the collision.

Startled by the transformation, the captor in front of Kaldur hesitated. A second later the bear had charged into him and he was sent flying backwards through the wooden door. A shower of splinters filled the air.

For a second Kaldur regarded the fourth figure with his dark eyes. The robed figure remained motionless at the back of the room - the bear still had rage to vent. He turned and saw the Blood Elf slowly getting to his feet. Kaldur pounced at him and put his paw around the Blood Elf’s throat. For a few seconds the Blood Elf choked in the bears grasp, then the paw turned to a hand and Kaldur was in elven form once more.

“Enough of this foolery!” Kaldur shouted into the face of his captor. “The Blood Elves crave power in any form, but this technology is not of them. Show yourself before I crush the life from you!”

The struggling Blood Elf reached into the pockets of his robe. His hand brought out an orb that Kaldur recognised as an orb of deception. As the orb dropped from his grip and fell to the floor, the Blood Elf was transformed into a Gnome.

The gnome looked afraid. Kaldur only had chance to view its face for a second - the change in size meant he lost his grip, and the gnome slipped free from its oversized robes. It slipped past Kaldurs feet and ran to the door. Kaldur just managed to land the toe of his boot on the gnomes backside which helped propel it down the stairs.

A few seconds passed as Kaldur listened to the gnome clatter down the stairs and out the building. Silence. For a moment he regarded the robed figure who had collided with the orb. The robe had fallen from its face – it was not another Blood Elf as Kaldur had at first expected, but a human male. His chest was rising and falling. He looked unconscious, or at least in no state to fight again.

The fourth robed figure was still in the corner of the room. Eerily, they seemed to have barely stirred during the fight. Kaldur took his first step towards the figure.

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Kaldur stood facing the silent robed figure. The un-stirring robes gave few clues as to who or what lay underneath.

Kaldur boldly strode up to the figure and grabbed the hood of their robes. In the instant he did so, two quick hands came from under the robe and struck Kaldur in the chest. The result was that Kaldur was flung backwards and landed on the floor, but the hood of the robe remained in his grasp. Kaldur pushed himself to his feet and viewed the face of the figure for the first time.

He took a step forward. As he did so, cold seemed to penetrate his boots. His feet felt difficult to lift. He looked down. Thick ice had encased his boots and solidly attached them to the floor. He looked up at the figure and into her pale blue eyes. A look of wonderment and pride came across his face.

“My child.” He said to the figure. “You’re mother said you would do things we never could.”

Part VIII

Early Kaldorei civilization was defined by direct manipulation of magic drawn from the Well of Eternity to create and sustain their society. The constant use of the well attracted the attention of Sargeras and the Burning Legion. Their coming resulted in the War of the Ancients. The war had grave consequences, for even though the combined might of Azeroth's mortal races were victorious, the continent of Kalimdor was shattered, and a swirling, raging miasma of sea storms flowed into the vacant area where the Well of Eternity used to reside. This Great Sundering caused the Well's waters to be permeated into the atmosphere and spread magic all over the world. This event convinced the majority of night elves to reject arcane magic and embrace Malfurion Stormrage's call for druidism.

Kaldur studied the face of his daughter and he was troubled by what he saw. She had changed. Her irises had a thin outer ring of dark blue but their inner parts appeared almost white. They contained no warmth at all. Barely a hint of emotion showed in her face and she seemed to look through her father rather than at him. Yet her face was that of his little girl and looking at her brought back so many warm memories of her and her mother.

“Tashi, I thought I’d never…” Kaldur began.

“Do not try to come any closer father.” She replied. The ice around Kaldurs boots seemed to get colder with this statement. He stopped his attempts to move forward and relaxed into his frozen shoes.

“I knew you had to be alive. The others were dead but I felt you had to be out there somewhere my child. I have searched for you for so long…” he said.
“And you have found me. What now?” she responded coldly.

“I want to take you back with me, be amongst our people again.”

“Back? Back to the Kaldorei?” Tashi made a laugh, but it sounded hollow in her throat. “The Kaldorei are a dying species – a relic of the past. They stick to their old ways and old magics. They cling to the bark of their poisoned tree hoping their gods will save them.”

Her voice was monotone. The way she spoke of her people made Kaldur wonder if these were not her words; were they recited or was someone or something speaking through her.

“I watched our family die, all of them were wiped out before my eyes.” Tashi said. “And Elune was not looking on them. I know why you ran father – because you knew this too.”

“You are wrong my child…”

“There is something coming – something terrifying yet great. Instead of cowering away to accept our fate like you father, I have embraced it. I have studied the arcane magics and we will soon unlock something greater still.

Kaldur looked on his daughter with shock. “If death is our fate daughter, why did you release me?” he asked.

“I knew what they thought. They were impressed with you and would have wanted you to join them – I could not allow that.”

“Please Tashi.” Kaldur pleaded he reached his hand out toward her yet she barely seemed to notice it.

“I will let you live father. In return you will never seek out me or my people again.”

Before Kaldur could respond the well of cold that was in his feet grew. Ice sprinted over the surface of legs, his chest, his arms, and finally his face. The cold snap penetrated him. He felt his breathing cease and his heart slow. As he took a last look at his daughter and his vision went black, he thought he saw a look of regret in her face.

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When Kaldur awoke he was alone. The unconscious human had been moved. Much of the equipment that had been on the shelves was gone and only a few broken vials remained. He found on the floor the robe that the gnome had worn. He picked it up and studied it. Pinned to the front was a golden brooch with the emblem of a dragon. Kaldur took this and put it in his pocket. He did not know how to feel. His daughter was alive, but in what form. This episode had stirred some painful memories for him and uncovered something… but he did not know what. He would return to Darnassus tonight.