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| - With a sigh, Beram Skychaser plucked a few petals of purple lotus out of the musty bottle that held his dwindling supply. With the number of shamanistic students asking for examples of alchemical work, he would soon need more. "Time to put in another order with that goblin..." He thought. The night air was crisp, but still warm. It had been a dry week, and the flora on the plains of Mulgore was starting to show its thirst. The water spirits must be waiting for something, mused the shaman as he ground the petals into a fine powder. A light jangle of metal plates caused Beram's ears to perk up, and the heavy hoofbeats of an approaching tauren caused his teeth to grind. He knew that gait. "What do you want?" He asked, without turning around. A dark figure stepped into the tent, stopping just inside the doorway. A few moments passed, as Beram's words hung in the air. "Hello, brother. It's been a while." Roshanar's low, soft voice caused the shaman to grind his teeth harder, and the petals were fast approaching dust. "Stop calling me that. I asked you a question." The warrior sighed, and approached the table. "I brought you a gift, Beram. I told you I learned father's lessons well." Roshanar pulled a small pouch out of his bag and emptied it onto the table, revealing a sizable pile of expertly picked purple lotus blossoms, still fresh. Without looking at the other tauren, the shaman tossed a short glance at the mound of flowers, and then back to the now non-existant dust in his bowl. "Shoddy technique, you've ruined them by the way you picked them. I can't use that dung." Beram briskly picked up the bowl and walked to another table, avoiding the clear hurt in the dark tauren's eyes. Roshanar's voice followed him, a bit softer now. "I've been aiding the druids. The Silithid are at work in the south... it's a terrible sight to see. The centaur were nothing compared to this threat! But we're going to beat them. Even now, the entirety of the Horde is mobilizing to fight! Even the Alliance is joining us in this!" The shaman snorted. "Druids? Pfah. They depend too much on the counsel of the elves. These "Silithid" are nothing to be worried about. Just another excuse for the Forsaken to use to bleed us dry of our best warriors. Of course..." Beram cast a withering glare at his visitor, "...perhaps they'd do us the favor of ridding us of some of our worst, as well. I understand you're taking orders from them, now. I always told father you'd betray us." Roshanar looked down at the crystal hanging around his neck. "Beram, the Vanguard was created to protect all of us. The Forsaken are outcasts, and need our help as much as we need theirs. They are our allies, and would not do anything to jeopordize us without good cause." "Outcasts, eh? You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you." Beram muttered, still not looking up. "Brother, I..." Roshanar's voice was little more than a whisper, now. Snarling, Beram spun around. "I told you, do not call me that! You are not my brother! If it wasn't for you, my father would still be alive! We showed you kindness, and you repaid us with nothing but pain and misery!" With a clenched fist, the shaman crushed the pile of lotus blossoms on the table, and sent them flying in all directions. Beram's voice quieted, but lost no intensity. "If there's nothing you want, I'm sure your undead masters have some other fool errand to send you on." For a long moment, Roshanar looked at the bits of crushed lotus scattered around his feet. Then he turned and slowly walked out of the tent, his shoulders visibly slumped. Beram watched him go, then sighed and turned back to the table, muttering to himself. Another figure appeared in the doorway, glancing out after the departing warrior. "Must you be so hard on him, Beram? It's clear that all he wants is a word of approval from you. What would your father think if he saw the way you treat him?" "Don't lecture me, Siln," Beram retorted. "It's because of him that my father is not here to see anything. Besides..." the shaman snorted, looking out over his shoulder into the night. "He's not even really a Skychaser."
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