Reforging of Thor'Mush'a

The Reforging of Thor'Mush'a was the rebranding of Matron Melyria Starstrike's Umbral Crescent that had long been shattered. The blade was reforged in the grand smithies of the Warrior's Terrace in Darnassus.

The warden sat atop a stone structure overlooking the Cenarion Enclave, deep in thought. Her cloak was pulled tightly around her, a bit hanging over the ledge she was on. The ordeal was finally over, months of work finally starting come together. Months prior Matron Melyria put into motion a plan that was both of high risk and potentially a high reward.

Long ago the warden had sent her sisters out, harvesting massive amounts of elunite ore, sacred, moon touched metal that the Kaldorei valued and crafted weapons and armor from. However, she understood that the metal was not enough alone. She led an expedition into Deepholme and her skilled scavengers extracted enough elementium. There, in the bowels of the earthen realm, she and the Moonblade managed to extract a few large globs of the great Aspect of Death, Xaxas, sentient and slithering around the stone floor of the realm. Now, deep within the unit's vault the blood was contained within vials.

Since that expedition a lot has happened, the warden publicly shattered her own weapon to steel herself, to make sure there was no going back. She had her Kaldorei smiths employ their ancient skill, alloying the elunite and elementium together into a powerful metal, both light and strong. But even alloyed the metal required a great amount of heat to even start melting. And from there the wheels within her mind had begun to turn. She already had metal from Deepholme, the essence of earth, why not the others?

And from there the plan was laid out. Fire, earth, water and sky, all elements put together for her purposes. She and her lieutenants took a number of her soldiers, using the recent victory within the Firelands and the confusion of the beings within to her advantage. They had pushed through the hellish environment and found an everburning ember, the molten heart of a giant, guarded by cultists and a dragon, one of the new, twilight flight. Though the struggle left no casualties, it was a near defeat. Yet they got what they needed and within the Moonblade vault, next to the blood and metal, contained within a truegold urn, the ember waits to be put to use.

But with heat one must cool a weapon, quench the blade. Vashj'ir was her target, the Abyssal Maw her goal. The journey was difficult, traversing the sea floor, using shamanistic magic of the Earthen Ring in a rare display of diplomacy. Yet they reached the whirlpool and within they entered the Tidehunter's domain. Though they saw no sign of the lord, the naga still infested the realm. After defeating and executing a leading Sea Witch the unit freed an enslaved royal elemental, an aquatic duchess. Though too late to heal the fatally wounded being, the matron invoked her goddess' name, earning her the respect of the creature, allowing the elves to siphon off the pure core before her death.

As the warden remembered back to her and her unit's exploits, she jumped from the ledge, disappearing for a moment as her helmet's eye sockets flashed white, blinking to the ground easily and walking through the enclave. She slipped around some trees, down a path and into a secluded cave, making her way down to the where Matron Shadowsong trained her new watchers, where the Shadow Wardens once called their barracks. Searching the compound was easy, abandoned, dark.

She pushed open a door to reveal an alchemy lab and sat at the stool in front of it. She removed a number of ingredients from a satchel; deathweed, maiden's anguish, a variety of nettles and flowers, each of them toxic. The alchemy lab was specially made, sloped toward the center, with a dozen indents around the edge to mill, each with a channel to the middle. Under each milling indent a candle was suspended, allowing on to heat whatever milled concoction the user made. She ground each of the ingredients into the bowls and set alight a couple of the candles.

As she worked she thought back to the duchess and the trip back across the sea, back to her home of Daranssus. She thought back to her plans, her desires for her broken weapon. The pure water's destiny was to consume to earthen metal, heated by flames eternal. Yet this was not what Melyria wanted alone. She met with many a priestess within the temple and sought a rare gift, a thimble full of water from the moonwell, to imbue the elemental's last act with the blessing of the moon. And she was granted that request, earning her a few drops of the sacred liquid from the largest well, found within the temple.

She poured a few natural nectars and liquids into each and patiently waited. The heat quickly started to make the selected mixes bubble and green mist rose from the table, illuminated the matron's half damaged face.

As she watches the mixtures bubble her mind wanders to their last expedition. The biting cold and howling winds of the north, the agonizing march from the Fjord to the mountains, up to the dwarven explorers. They walked the streets of Ulduar, humored the mad requests of Mimiron, did battle for the pleasure of Thorim, tested their endurance for Hodir and sat and listened to the wisdom of Freya. For their troubles they were given one request and Melyria made the most of it, asking for two stars that made up the many constructs and designs of the titan complex, two celestial diamonds plucked from the sky and given to the children of the stars. And they were successful. Sporting a rare smile, the matron took her troops back, each of them trudging through the snow for days to get to a ship, each guarding a glowing, metal scroll tube. Even metal could not hide the brilliant glow of the stars.

After a few minutes of thought she removed the blocks from each channel and let the dozen separate liquids funnel down into the middle chamber, mixing and changing color. She produced a flask and held it under a spout under the stone slab and turned a nob, the mixed poison draining into the glass container. This was going to be mixed with the dragonblood temper. This was to imbue her weapon with a warden's poison, to create a toxic edge to sow ruin and to destroy the enemies of her people.

Soon. Soon fire, water, earth and sky, poison and blood, will all be joined. Kaldorei smiths will work the rare ingredients, to reforge her broken blade. All the blood, sweat, cold, heat and courage needed to procure these objects will bear fruit.

As the warden left the compound, poison in hand, she murmurs the first words she's uttered in hours of deep thought. "Soon, Thor'Mush'a. I'll hold you again and we will fight together once more."