The Neutral Summit

Taeana hated being late, but with the nature of flying (and especially of calves), it was inevitable from time to time. Looking up at the sun as she raced across the rise, she was not terribly late, but certainly not on time.
Two Bluffwatchers flanked the tent entrance, quickly parting for her as she made her way to them. She hoped she did not look as frazzled as she felt, not helped at all by the realization that the meeting was already underway. She could hear discussion through the canvas.
“Is this your idea of recruitment?”
“That was not Baine’s intention in calling this meeting.”
“Baine’s intentions have not always been in line with our interests.”
“Which is why he felt it was important to reach out to your people.”
“Clearly not that important, given his absence here.”
After a brief moment to check her composure, she pulled the door aside and stepped in. Three Shu’halo appeared to be arguing in the center of the tent, while others watched quietly on the periphery.
A bull in Thunder Bluff regalia stood at the head of the meeting, though the two tauren accosting him appeared less than cordial. Each wore their own mantles proudly; one in blues and whites with a headdress of gray feathers falling over his shoulders, the other in shades of deep green with an odd sort of wreath around her head. The spectators around them numbered no more than a dozen Shu’halo of various attire. All shifted uncomfortably as the argument continued.
The Thunder Bluff representative’s voice remained steady, though there was a hint of annoyance in his words. “The High Chieftain is working to ensure the stability of our people by-”
“The Horde,” the wreathed tauren cut off. “He is working to stabilize the Horde. The same Horde that saw him in chains not so long ago, and would see the rest of us burn.”
“That is not-,” the bull finally noticed Taeana’s presence. He cleared his throat loudly, causing the other two to turn to look. “The Council recognizes Taeana Palehorn, Chieftess of the Stonewind Tribe.”
Taeana bowed, walking fully into the meeting area. “My apologies for arriving late. Thank you for the invitation.” Stopping to stand with the others, she faced the decorated bull and smiled warmly.
He returned the smile genuinely, appearing even relieved by her arrival. The other bull in blue and white thumped a fist against his own chest, nodding as he spoke, “Chief Ahmik Dustmane, of Desolace.” The wreathed cow then offered, “Ambassador Tarsha, of Feralas. I stand for Chief Mosshoof for this meeting.”
Taeana nodded her head to both. “I have heard of your tribes. A pleasure to make your acquaintances.” Her attention was quickly back to the representative.
“Now that we are gathered,” the envoy announced with some haste, “let us begin. Properly. You all well know the damage that was done over the course of the war. You are right. The Horde is fractured, rife with mistrust and still bandaging the wounds done by the Banshee Queen’s will. As with the founding of Thunderbluff, we seek again to heal through unity. We look now to the tribes who remained apart throughout this conflict, those that once treated with Thunder Bluff as equals. We ask you to do so again, and a bit more, if you so choose.”
“We will not join the Horde,” Chief Dustmane spoke as soon as the bull paused to draw breath. “This was our word before the war. This is our word after it.”
“We would not ask you to join the Horde. On that your tribes have spoken. We offer that you join Thunder Bluff.”
“The same snake at a different end,” the Mosshoof ambassador quipped. “To join one is to join the other. Do not split hairs with us.”
“A treaty,” the envoy continued, “for want of a better term. No swearing of allegiance. No commitment to war. Simply a sharing of resources. Mulgore is a rich land. The High Chieftain would see those riches shared, should you so choose.”
“A trade agreement, then?” Chief Dustmane asked.
“Of sorts. You all know well the resources and enterprise that often occurs on the bluffs. That has never been closed to those outside of our ranks. What we offer now is the chance to add to the bluffs. There is land yet unclaimed among the foothills that could be made fit.”
“You wish for us to come to Mulgore?” the Mosshoof ambassador asked skeptically. “Why? What gain is there to you?”
“Much, I would hope.” The envoy sighed heavily. “Even as we welcome another people into the Horde, there remains a deep wound in dire need of mending. Faces new and old are finding themselves targets of mistrust. Our city, our people, have been no exception to this. First the target as our Chieftain hung in chains, and now the accuser as we grapple with the wrongs done on the Banshee Queen's behalf. Thunder Bluff needs more tribes with the openness your tribes exemplify.”
He looked to the Dustmane Chief. “Your people have shown an incredible resilience in a land most have deemed uninhabitable by measure. I was surprised when I learned that your ranks had grown to include trolls from a nearby village.”
The Chief shrugged. “We have traded with Shadowprey village for years now. Some simply grew fond of our way of life.” He then spoke rather pointedly, “although more fishers seemed to be willing to abandon their nets when word came that yet another war might be on the horizon.”
“I would imagine, and perhaps they were more wise than others.” The envoy spoke pleasantly enough, but he seemed less than thrilled by the response. He then turned to the ambassador next.
“Your people have been more fortunate in resources, but at the cost of great peril. As the Mistrunners tell it, Feralas is no easy place to raise a village. Yet you have done well for yourselves, and allowed your lands to remain open to those that travel through it. I hear tell that even the night elves of the region are cordial with your tribe?”
“We have made a point of establishing diplomatic ties with those that can be trusted. Feathermoon Stronghold has never been friendly per say, but they are willing to trade and collaborate when it suits both our interests.” The ambassador’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that arrangement would stay intact should we ally ourselves with those that participated in the destruction of their sacred home.”
The envoy bowed his head. “The burning of Teldrassil was an affront to the Earthmother herself. There is naught but regret that the Banshee Queen led us so astray-”
“Do not hide behind the skirts of the death queen, Seznha,” Chief Dustmane snapped, with the ambassador snorting in agreement. “She gave the orders, but how many Horde chose to follow? How many failed to speak against her, when it became clear that the only cause she served was her own twisted agenda. Where was Baine, then, when these crimes of war were being commited?”
“The High Chieftain did not know-”
“That he was a dog to a sociopathic killer?” the ambassador offered.
“Who to trust!” the envoy finished. “We did not yet know what precisely had gone wrong at Darkshore. Only Saurfang knew the true madness of the Banshee Queen, and he-”
“Kept it to himself, did he? I don’t believe that. Baine must have known, yet chose to serve anyway.”
“He was protecting our people.”
“Is that what I should tell the Kal’dorei when I return to Mosshoof? I’m sure they’ll be most reassured.”

Taeana simply listened, hearing both sides of the arguing, but not adding in her own thoughts as yet. Finally, she tapped her staff upon the ground, the chimes in its crook announcing her intention to speak.
“I have no love for the Horde, not since the days of Thrall. Orgrimmar itself sits near my native homeland, and a painful reminder of the changing times. Of bloodshed, and endless war. The lands ravaged by demons and naga, but also reckless ventures and settlers taking what they will with little regard for the Earthmother.”
“But Thunderbluff has always stood not as a beacon of the Horde, but of the Shu’halo. The totems of dozens of tribes bound together; the cultures of many from all across Kalimdor living in harmony, learning and teaching and surviving together as one.”
“My own tribe of birth benefits from this, the Palehorn. Our numbers dwindled, most of our Braves lost defending the world tree. Many of our youth joined in the grandeurs of adventure and heroism. The mutual defense and sharing resources is all that has kept my people and our ways from dwindling into the Dream.”
“However,” she let the word hang for a moment before continuing, “there is danger in joining the larger collective. Specific traditions can be washed pale, and lose their meaning and importance. Sickness spreads more quickly, and more mouths to feed can tax the local land. Mulgore is prosperous, but not limitless. And while we may not join the Horde, Thunder Bluff may yet come under threat from the Alliance once again, despite Baine’s fondness for the boy-king.”
She looked at her fellow representatives. “Living alone in the mountains provides us some anonymity. Some respite from the politics of the Horde and even within the Shu’halo. Being self-sufficient comes with many benefits, despite the drawbacks.” She returned her gaze to the emissary. “What, brother, have you to convince us that the drawbacks of Mulgore and Thunderbluff are lesser than living as we do now?” “There you will have to tell me.” The emissary considered her for a moment. “Stonetalon is a rugged region. Fruitful in the right season, barren when it is not. It is also not without its hostilities. Can you tell me, truly, that your people would not benefit from the breadbasket of Mulgore? That your young and your old would not feel safer with the bluffs at their backs?”
“I was wondering when the argument of ‘protection’ would rear its head,” the ambassador muttered. Then, louder, “you said that we would not be beholden to your wars, yet now you speak of fighting on our behalf? How long would that arrangement last until we would be pushed to reciprocate?”
“We defend our people and our lands. If we share the land, then we defend it all.” He looked again at Taeana. “I am sure your people are quite capable of defending themselves, Chieftess. I ask only if they should have to, and what they might do if such burdens were lifted.”
Outwardly, she kept her expression fixed and neutral. Inward, her thoughts turned over the options, both good and bad. The sobering reports from the Hunters foremost in her mind, as well as the council she had had with Talaweha and others about desires for helping beyond their valley home. Having the security of Thunder Bluff-- both for protection and food supplies-- would allow those who wished to to travel more freely, without thought of obligation.
But then, what might become of their traditions? Their ancestors? Their home? Would goblins or centaur return to strip her remaining prosperity? Or would the land flourish with less intrusion? Not that they would be too far should ill befall it. Yet still...
“They would help elsewhere, I imagine,” she finally answered. “Some have a history with the Horde, or other groups, both good and ill. They would defend the Earthmother, and those that live peacefully with her.”
“A good cause. One shared by many among the bluffs. Your people would be welcome.” The emissary lifted his head. “But I was not tasked with convincing any of you of this choice. Only to make the offer, and see that it is given due thought before a decision is made.”
“I can picture well enough our Chief’s thoughts on the matter,” the ambassador said sternly. “The Mosshoof will not stand with the Horde. Whatever loose conditions Baine thought might entice us are as empty as his post at the moment.”
The emissary frowned, but nodded. “The High Chieftain understands that trust will not be regrown in a single season. He had hoped, however, that we may begin again to nurture that seed of understanding. The Mosshoof’s very presence here again is cherished. We hope that it may become a regular sighting at these meetings once again.”
The ambassador chewed her words for a moment, then. “I will pass those hopes to the ears of my Chief. That is all I can promise.”
“Well, this Chief’s ears are here now,” Chief Dustmane snorted. “It is a generous offer, but one I’m not prepared to accept here and now. However, now that the Horde is relieved of its unfortunate leadership, I see no reason to abstain from these meetings going forward.” The Chief grinned. “Besides, I have missed my walks along the baker’s tents. Hard to find smells so nice out in Desolace. Anything more than that, and time will have to make me a wiser bull before I give an answer to it.”
The emissary again nodded, looking slightly more heartened by the Dustmane response. He then looked to Taeana. “I needn’t an answer here and now. The offer is made. I hope you will consider it. In the meantime, your presence would be welcomed again among the Chief of the Shu’halo. Will you give us this chance?”
“I agree with Chief Dustmane. Slyvana’s being removed from leadership is not but a blessing for all of the Horde, and all of Azeroth for that matter.” She paused and looked over the others for a moment. “I will carefully consider the offer, and bring it to my council and hear their thoughts. Regardless of our decision, we will always consider Thunder Bluff a close ally.”
“And Thunder Bluff shall always be a place of welcome to all Shu’halo, and to any who would make our ways their own.” The emissary raised his voice. “This meeting is then concluded. The High Chieftain extends his gratitude for your attendance here once more.”
He bowed his head, the onlookers on the periphery murmuring a sort of acknowledgement. The Mosshoof ambassador gave a curt nod before exiting rather hastily through the tent flaps. Chief Dustmane seemed to linger, however, approaching the emissary to speak in hushed tones. Taeana lingered only long enough to bow again to the emissary before heading out of the tent herself.
As she made her way back to the flight tower, the full weight of the situation began to burden her. Stonetalon, homeland of Stonewind... Mulgore, seat of Shu’halo culture... safety, tradition, community. Counseling with the Sages and Elders would not be enough. For a choice this important, the Spirits themselves would need to be asked.

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The peaceful grove was normally full of springtime birds chirping away as they constructed nests. However, the forest was rather still today. Not silent, but quiet. It would have been peaceful if it was not a subtle reminder of the reason she was here in the first place.
She shivered in her bare fur as she sat on the damp grass, but quickly settled and got comfortable. The Vision Quest herbs were starting to take full effect, easing her into an other-wordly calm. Her mind tried to wander, but she had a specific task at hand today, and she trained her thoughts upon it-- Raven of Stonewind, speak with me.
Suddenly she was flying through the pines and canyons of the mountains. Miles of homeland stretched in every direction. It was grey and smoky though-- a reflection of the material world. Taeana looked around for the Raven, calling out to him again. Great Raven! Ancestors of Stonewind! The Chieftess seeks your council!
She found ground beneath her hooves, a wide plateau of smoking red rock around her. The shadow of an old crooked tree wound its way upward, a leafless branch jutting out high above. There, silent, its head obscured in the dim, perched--
“Raven,” Taeana postured herself on her knees before the great spirit, her palms upturned and offered out in respect. “Mighty spirit of Stonewind. I come to you seeking counsel of the utmost concern. Please, hear my plea and offer your guidance.”
The spirit seemed less than moved by Taeana’s words. It clicked its talons against the ghostly wood, its head moving slowly around, as though on watch. Finally, it gave a short croak, and the Chieftess’s mind was met by a rather curt voice.
Speak then.
“The mortal world is in the midst of great change, most of it for ill. The Earthmother still rages in pain, her blood still seeping through. And in her pain, nature struggles. Stonetalon is weak. Her herds are thin, her flora lacking for nutrients, and while we may yet persist on her resources, it may be too great a toll.”
“In this, an opportunity has been presented to us to join with other Shu’halo tribes in the verdant lands of Mulgore. It has been far less impacted by the wound of Sargeras, and can yet support a great many people. Thunderbluff has additional resources, outreach to trade, and, of course, protection.”
“But, from all my learning of Stonewind, and in speaking with our Lorekeepers and Shamans, the Tribe has never lived outside of the mountains. If we were to take this course, and move to Mulgore, we would be breaking so much tradition of our people and our Tribe. And so I ask of you, Great Raven, your will, and your wisdom, in this trying time.”
Let me see-...
The winds suddenly gusted over the hazy plateau, buffeting Taeana and obscuring her sight. When she regained it, she found herself eye-to-eye with the spirit.
...if I have this right. You, of no Stonewind heritage, are asking to lead my people away from the ancestral land so that they may eat of the riches of a better one?
Taeana took a deep breath, steadying her nerves and resolve. She was sure the spirit could sense her inner thoughts, but still projected as much confidence as she could. “Yes, Great Raven. I know it goes against tradition, and if it is against your will and wisdom, then we will make do, but--”
Without warning, the Raven threw its head back and let out a deafening caw. The sound echoed around them, producing a chorus that made her ears ring. It was only after several moments that Taeana noticed the Raven’s voice again, laughing in her head.
Make do!?! The Raven said finally, the last of its caws fading away. When there are better pickings elsewhere? No, I think not.
“I...” Admittedly, she was caught off guard by the spirits mirth and chastisement. “Thank you, Great Raven. But, are you not worried about the loss of tradition?”
You mean the grand tradition of refusing to move with the times? The Raven looks around almost lazily. Around them, walls of red rock slowly rose as the spirit spoke. A fine tradition, that. A tradition of fear and isolation. Even that feather-headed bull that started all this knew that is no way to fly.
With a croak, the walls suddenly crumble around them, returning the skies above.
My people have always been on the move. If there is a better place, go there. Yours and mine will follow. I go where the winds take me.
Taeana nodded, ending with a lower bow. “Of course, Great Raven. We will keep all that we can alive and respected. We will continue to honor you in all that we do.”
See that you do. The Raven lowered his eyes to meet hers, considering. You know, Palehorn, I am starting to think that Boar may have had a point about you. Travel well.
Caught off guard, Taeana hesitated a moment too long to ask what he meant. By the time her lips parted, the vision began to fade and the Raven melded into smoke along with the rest of the world around her. Everything faded to grey, and she gasped a heaving breath back on the material plane.