A New Breed of Druids (More to be added)

[Asen]

Tulle had been standing under the might of the sun for hours, his eyes fixed and cold over the big sea of Auberdine. The skin that covered his body was burning wildly.

His father appeared in front of him. A slight air escaped from his lips and he said,

"Are you going to stay there all your life, Tulle?"

"Yes, father"

The old man frowned.

"You need to eat or you will starve"

Tulle's spirit seemed to grow more and more with every word his father said.

"Don't worry father, I will die"

A last encounter between their eyes before isolation.

"Good luck, Son"

Hours passed. The sea, the sun creating a golden bridge over it. Night was approaching and Tulle saw how useful was this training for him. Being in the middle of the beach, standing eternally, burning his own self.

He sat down and started drinking from a bottle. His eyes stepped over the mangled corpse of a sand crawler decomposing slowly. The scene spoke by itself. Nature was everything Tulle knew. Nature was the great mother. Yet, she seemed to love her sons too much. Everything is born, develops, shines and decays in her embrace, to be born again. A never-ending cycle where we all are prisoners. If we all are ruled by this Mother... Isn't the one who controls nature the true master?

The crawler decomposing stopped singing his wisdom to Tulle.

[Asen]

Years passed, and Tulle became a young Elf. Auberdine, his home, served as the scenario for many wonderful experiences for him. Each one of those experiences made him grow wiser and confident, just as the piece of marble is carved by the smooth hands of the artist.

One day, while he was running along the safe shores, he saw a strange elven man sitting over a rock. The stranger was surrounded by peaceful small birds and furry animals and his robes were green. Fascinated by his appearance, Tulle approached him and said,

"I am sorry to interrupt you, Sir. But, what are you doing here, alone?"

The man looked at him, his perfect smile met Tulle's eyes.

"I am not alone. Nature is my friend"

"Are you a Druid?"

"No. I am just a man who is very interested in many things. True Druids sleep and 'live' in the Emerald Dream with Ysera" Big waves tried to eat the skies as they were talking.

"What is that Dream?"

"A special isolated place where special beings dwell, such as dragons and druids. They try to keep the balance of nature from there"

Just as the sea hits the rocks of the beach, those words unveiled a new, shocking world of thoughts and sensations for Tulle. He was slowly transformed into a living desire to know more.

"Are you saying that there is a realm beyond nature, matter and sensations?"

"...In essence, yes."

Tulle said goodbye politely and walked towards his home. How could it be, if mother nature was so real, as a roof covering cold bodies in winter? Was there something above the skies, below the warm sand he loved?

Just as he was getting near his family cottage, two figures were standing in front of it. The smaller one was talking nervously, and moved from one side to the other while the taller one kept calm. It was probably his father talking to one of his clients. All of a sudden, tension raised above the dark trees of Auberdine and the small man took out a dagger to land a killing stab. Tulle's father managed to catch the mortal hand and grabbed the attacker by the neck. Tulle knew his father was good, but not enough to keep that man stiff for long.

As fast as his feet could, he ran to help his old father. It was a mongrel elf, who looked horrible for Tulle, as all the few mongrels he had seen. His build was relatively small, it was hairy, had a disgusting face with almost glowing eyes, sign of its elven heritage. With all his strength, he struck the wicked creature in the face and it fell. Silence. The filthy mongrel was obviously confused and the sound of the sea reigned over them. Tulle's attention was stuck in his bloody fist. He thought about how impure was the blood of that mongrel and how he would have to clean his hands later and realized too late that thinking in that situation was a deep error when the recovered mongrel was behind him, breathing putrid its air over him. A big stream of cold pain grew in Tulle's back. The mongrel had stabbed him ruthlessly and smiled as the young elf said hello to the wet ground.

Something strange grew in Tulle's chest with every smelly laugh the mongrel released. A strange emotion. The wet grass gently touching face was yelling 'Stand up and kill him! Kill that damn mongrel! He is a lesser race...! Oh, my son, I am so sad... You are weak as a rat, the hands of a stupid creature have touched you... Death for you! Weak!

Weak...! Weak...! Weak...!'

The echoes vibrated in his mind, his body and... His spirit. Something made him stand up from the mad talking grass. Something made him stand up, despite the fact that he was blood itself. With the strength of a bear, his fist crushed the ugly face of the mongrel. He did not stop attacking him. His old father just watched how his son was hitting the mongrel, an error of the little godhood given to the elves, an error of beastly lust. He continued, even when the poor creature was in the ground.

Until the creature stopped his painful breathing.

Everything turned black for Tulle's eyes. Yet, he was not blind because of the blood loss. He was aware of the other gem that composed him. Apart from nature, the raw matter... Spirit also danced eternally in this universe, inside every sentient being or thing. Spirit made him kill that Gnoll, when destiny wanted Tulle dead.

He fainted and slept for weeks. Visiting a new-found world in dreams. The mighty cities of his soul spoke and he learned.

'My path lies clear in front of me. Always. I will become a Druid'.

(...)

[Asen]

'I follow the truth of my dreams, Sir'

Out of the Cenarion Enclave. Tulle's radical ideas about druidism earned him a place out of the Cenarion Enclave, where great Druids trained. He was not sad, though, and lived off the money that his parents gave him for his studies. He was transformed into a seemingly lonely ghost who passed his days in love with a bottle of wine in the few bars of Darnassus. Fortunately for him, there were a lot of those wandering drunken ghosts, abandoned by the Druidic society because of their lack of talent or strange thoughts. Tulle and his friends usually shared more than the bar table and the final bill. They shared the same ideas.

'We night elves were born to go, we were born to blaze a new, clear way through this dark space!'

'Superior we are, comrades! Superior, I say! Nature's favourite creations, our destiny is the control of her wild energies!'

All these, common statements. They all nodded and they all celebrated their sayings. Cenarion Druids were blind fools, who did not want to see the ancient secrets that were whispered through the winds of change. (...)

[Asen]

... Those winds of change, which whispered to those twisted souls their duty in the world. Their world, which had to be manipulated, bent to the will of the creation's greatest sons: The Night Elves.

'We should create a group... A group that will spread the spirit of our words!' Tulle was standing on the table. The owner just stood near and smiled at the funny scene.

'What about... The... Uh... Emerald Patrol?'

'Enough thoughts! Enough nonsense! Let's go and seek lessers...'

It had begun. The following weeks were fields filled with small flowers of reputation for the Emerald Patrol. A gnome was killed, dozens of Furbolgs murdered... All, linked through a strange symbol painted on the ground...