Farewell, Camp Taurajo

The Shattering vol. 1; Farewell, Camp Taurajo.


The Eve of the Shattering. Hours before the Barrens is torn apart, days before Taurajo is slaughtered by the Alliance.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for the Night? My beds are free for you tonight, Shaman," offered the Innkeeper, smiling warmly at the Tauren before him.
"No, no, Byula," Haen replied, smiling back, "the winds blow towards the Bluffs, so that's where I'll go. Thank you, though. You've been too kind."
"Not at all, not at all; the Camp has been in a state of panic the past few months, what with the quakes, the rockslides and more recently, those horrible rift attacks. Your guidance tonight has put many minds at rest. A warm bed is the least I can offer you."
"Knowing that the people of Taurajo know that The Earthmother, The Horde and Cairne are all there for them, is reward enough. As I mentioned earlier, the Spirits would not let tradgedy befall this place; I can't count the number of attacks the Alliance have made on the Camp in the last five years, yet still it stands."
The Innkeeper nodded, letting out a tired groan as he sat down on the stump behind him. Various hammocks and beds surrounded the pair, some of which housed Tauren, young and old, sleeping their troubles away. The only sound remaining in the Inn was the gentle crackle of the embers from the torches on the wall.
"They've been through a lot tonight," Haen sighed; "that elemental attack earlier was the largest I've ever seen. The Spirits of fire grow restless. Their not happy at being abused like they are."
"It's something to do with Blackrock Mountain, isn't it?" Innkeeper Byula asked, looking up at Haen. Haen simply nodded.
"I believe so. The Warchief has sent some of Orgrimmar's finest into the Mountain to try and combat the elemental attacks. The assaults on Orgrimmar are growing more frequent; more Cultists are appearing, and more citizens are dissappearing. They haven't defeated us yet, however. And because of that, we now know what's causing the quakes. Cairne has sent -his- finest into Maraudon, where we believe the earthquakes are coming from. Slowly but surely, Azeroth is gaining control over the elements again."
The Innkeeper said nothing, nodding slowly. He appeared too tired to say much. Several of the Tauren in the beds stirred, turning in their sleep. Haen looked around, smiling.
"I think it's time I took my leave, Byula," he whispered.
"Very well, Haen. On behalf of Camp Turajo, I thank you."
After exchanging bows and blessings, the pair seperated. Haen turned and exited the inn. The smell of ash and recently burnt wood filled his lungs. Several tents were singed, though the Camp still stood.
"A testimony to the will of the Tauren, and the strength of the Horde," Haen thought to himself. As he walked through the camp, a small group of the Youngling's he'd been speaking to earlier approached him.

"Master Haen!" they cried, running up to him. Haen smirked.
"Master? I'm not much older than YOU!"
"You've passed your Rites of the Earthmother; you gave us guidance on how to pass ours. For that, you're like a mentor to us!"
Haen simply laughed.
"Fine, fine. If you say so; I won't argue against being called Master. Where are you headed?"
"We were going to head back to the Inn. We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we'll certainly need all the rest we can get. Have you seen Juno?"
Haen nodded. "He's back at the Inn too. Resting; the camp Druids are working with him now. He's burns are painful, but not fatal. He'll live; if anything, his wounds will make him stronger."
The Younglings nodded. "Thank you for everything. Your words...they meant a lot to us. About the Spirits and the Elements...being intertwined...the same thing...it all makes sense. We've never looked at the Earthmother in that way before."
Haen simply nodded, coughing as he did. "There are many ways to interpret the winds; the rain; the storms. Many have different views on how the Spirits talk to us. In the end, it boils down to the same thing; respecting the Earthmother. Respecting Azeroth. Which is why the ones responsible for Azeroth's current predicament won't succeed. They're abusing the elements, and in turn, the spirits. By angering the spirits, they've already lost. Azeroth will be fine. The Barrens will be fine. Taurajo will never fall, not to the Elements, not to the Alliance, not to anyone. This I assure you."
The Younglings smiled at him. "Thank you, Haen. Now if you'll excuse us, we'd better get rested. Will you be coming along?"
"No, no; I'll ride to the Bluffs. It's a clear night, so I should get through Mulgore alright. I'll see you Younglings on the Bluffs soon, no doubt; you'll be meeting Cairne himself soon enough; your performance tonight proved that you're no doubt ready to pass your final rite. May the Spirits watch over you all."
Haen bowed at them as they too said their goodbyes. He smiled at them as they walked away.

Master? I only passed my rites six years ago...though in that time, more has happened then I could ever have anticipated. Perhaps they're right to call me Master...

Haen smirked at the thought, shaking his head. He untied his kodo from the hitching post and clambered onto it.
As he and his kodo plodded out of the Camp Gates, Haen turned around, for what, unknown to him, would be the last he'd see of the Camp; it'd be the last time he, or anyone saw it's settlers alive.

You've been the proving grounds for me, and countless Tauren before me. You've stayed strong through countless struggles. You're like a second home to me. I'll return soon, I promise.
Farewell, Camp Taurajo.

And with that, he rode into the night.

Aww

Oh wait, I'm Alliance. Dirty tauren... um... yes, something like that!

(Regardless, nice tale, Ian!)