A Rustle of Leaves
- - by Lonetree
My name is Lone Tree. Perhaps you have heard my name. Perhaps not. Once, I claimed kinship with the clan of the Ashen Horn. I cannot say with truth that I feel such kinship any more. Much time has passed since I have spoken to Azeroth. Yet in this time, much has Azeroth spoken to me. And in listening, great power and knowledge have I earned. I will speak to Azeroth now, and return to it the wisdom it has imparted to me. In this way, the balance of the Earth Mother shall be maintained. Thus balanced, I shall seek new plateaus upon which I shall stand and grow - like the world tree itself - roots into Earth, branches into Sky.
I am a Druid. For many moons have I studied under great teachers - Dendrite Starblaze, Rabine Saturna, and Arch Druid Hamuul Runetotem. For many moons have I studied under greater teachers - Elune and the Earth Mother. Yet none have taught me better than the greatest teacher, experience. With experience I have felled mighty and ancient entities of the elder days of Azeroth. With experience I have claimed their hoards to turn against the most foul and corrupted forces threatening our great Mother. And yet of all lessons, the finest one experience has taught me is judgement. Azeroth is a land of many races. Once, they lived apart. Now, legion are the races and the lands they claim grow too short for their numbers or ambitions. And so here they clash, and here they meet, but always they influence one another. Imperceptibly, ways change. Under pressure, individuals change. And here comes the mighty lesson of experience. All creatures are fallible, all creatures are corruptible, and it is a great fool who trusts but one man implicitly for guidance or salvation. No absolute nor sacred power entrusted to the will of but one is a power free from the path of ruin.
We mighty Tauren entrust our future with the Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof and his son, Baine. We trust his allegience to the orc warchief, Thrall, and his alliance with the Darkspear and Forsaken. What has come of this? War. Unending, relentless war with the small races of the Eastern Kingdoms and and the moon elves of Teldrassil. Under a single banner we charge against one another and speak in scorn behind the walls of our cities. Azeroth is a world divided against itself. It shall fall.
Does a tree stand upon the head of a pin? No! It spreads its many roots deep beneath the soil. Does an elk stand upon one hoof? No! His four legs give him grace and stability. So let it be with the races of Azeroth. Entrust not all your power to the hands of but one. Do not entrust the stability of your world to but one pillar. Should it rot... that world is doomed.
Now it is spoken. Perhaps my words are but the rustle of leaves in a forest. I think it is not so bad. A whisper may beget a hurricane. May the Earth Mother guide you.