Rock and stone. Evergreen trees. The Winds coalesced into a single point. Creating a form that was vaguely humanoid, but translucent and brimming with power. A mimic of the other, more mortal looking avatars. The confines were already putting a strain upon the Avatar and its divine controller. But it stepped forward. Into a cave from which it had seen the bright glow of something divine so great in power, it could no longer be overlooked. Nature gave way to mortal carvings. Creating a long hallway inside. Flanked by braziers on both sides. The divine senses of the avatar saw the events depicted on the stone walls. Painted on them as murals. Legends. Wars. Stuff of destiny from when the gods were gone. Yet he still lit the fires. Bright, yellow light banished the darkness and announced the coming of something to whoever would live in a place like this.

No creature cried out. The avatar pressed on. Floating through the venerable hall until it came upon a room with a throne. The throne sat atop a dais. Qael stopped the winds for a second before it. The throne alone would be a great enough gift for his daughter. It wouldn’t be enough though. Not for her. No throne in all of Galbar would be enough for her. But it would’ve been a good, solid foundation. But he wasn’t here for the stone chair. He pressed on. The heavy stone behind the throne’s dais was already moved. Revealing the stairs down which the Winds descended.

Down there things were both more and less impressive. Barracks and a kitchen. Ancient weapons and armor laid waiting. How long until banditry would come and loot the place clean? Qael was surprised they hadn’t already. The cobwebbed shields were all painted the same: a gate enveloped in light. The symbol of a dying faith.

One thing did catch his attention. A statue, covered with dust and spiderwebs. Not of a man, or troll, or rare thumblings. But unmistakingly of a night elf. Up in Qael’s own realm, he cocked his head. “How curious.” He said out loud, as the etheric fingers of the winds traced over the elven features. How did they know? One of his siblings had to have shown them. Why he could not say. The figure didn’t point up towards the throne room though. Or towards some other place. It pointed at a large, sealed doorway off the side.

With a mere thought, magic began to move the stone. The very air inside was older than anything else within the cave here. The revealed room was different from the barracks and kitchens. It was made from solid stone. Inside were two tombs. Damp and parts of them covered by moss. The winds floated inside. Undeterred. The first coffin, the largest one, showed a night elf again. Death or sleeping, Qael couldn’t be sure. Maybe both? The other coffin was that of a thumbling. Tiny. But no less intricately carved. The old runic script revealed their names to Qael’Naath in an instant: Saint Oyticon and Saint Bartholomew. [color=a187be]“You are a long way from home.”[/color] The god whispered back in his own realm as the wind’s ethereal hand traveled over the top of the tomb.

He would’ve smashed it open. To see if the corpse it held really was that of a night elf. But something else caught his attention. Not death, but life. Beyond the coffins was a pedestal, holding the object he was looking for: the grail. And sitting beside it was a thumbling. Still breathing.

The ghostly figure of the winds moved forward. Passing through the houllin berry bush casting the room in a soft glow. [color=a187be]“A worthy gift.”[/color] It said out loud in the tomb as it approached the grail. [color=a187be]“And you must be something of a protector then, are you not?”[/color] it asked the thumbling.

Old blind eyes opened, a million wrinkles forming around the toothless mouth of the thumbling. A coughing laugh sounded, “I’m more of a janitor these days, too stubborn to stop clinging to the past.” 

Qael in his realm was surprised to find the little thing to be blind. The ethereal shape stopped approaching the grail and instead watched the thumbling. Was this what mortals called empathy? Or was it curiosity? The god of magic couldn’t tell. [color=a187be]“And what past might that be?”[/color]

“The Thumblings have always been small,” The old thumbling started, “So big things like gods, heroes and kings often never notice us -- a curse you may be thinking but nay! In these cracks and crevices you find untouched glens and groves where we can play and sing and dance just like we did at the start of time itself, untouched by the injustice and cruel chance of the world and its benefactors.” The thumbling shifted, “So you see, those who noticed this wanted to join in on the song -- and so our way of life spread to the larger folk, but the OTHER larger folk who thought of different dances weren’t too found of this one so old, and eventually this way of life was whittled back down to the groves and cracks and glens -- BUT!” Standing up the thumbling cast a big smile, “When the way of the Golden Light was still cast on the others, we had ourselves feasts, and love, and summers, and happiness -- treasured memories too fond to let go.” He wiggled his nose and leaned against the cup, “The world is a cruel one, where random chance can end what few sparks light the darkness of this existence.”

[color=a187be]“You’re kin are very insightful to realize these truths.”[/color] Qael said as the winds began to shift. Losing grip on the singular, humanoid form. It slowly began to dissolve into a cloud-like shape again. [color=a187be]“Us, the gods, have done too little to nurture places where one can sing and dance.”[/color] Not even Qael has done that, he realized. Not really. Though he hoped Soleras would be a place that could feast without real fear about whether or not they could eat the next week then. His divine senses peered back at the grail. [color=a187be]“You understand that I wish to take this gift of… presumingly your Light?”[/color]

“You won’t take it,” The thumbling predicted, “You will receive it.” With little hands he pushed the Grail slightly, unable to lift it in his frailty and size. “It brought abundance to the memories of old, but back then it too lived in a crack between the sights of the larger folk -- I cannot say if I am gifting a blessing or a curse, but I hope it is as much of a blessing to you as it was to me.”

For a second the cloud moved backward. Seemingly away from the thumbling and the grail. A manifestation of Qael’s own surprise. That a mortal would give such a power so freely. But then the cloud moved forward again. Magic lifted the grail up. Taking it within the cloud and filling it with a handful of houllin berries Qael knew would bring prosperity to the future empire. [color=a187be]“You are a generous creature. Tell me, what is your name?”[/color]

“Tim. I’m a thumbling,” Tim answered simply. “What’s yours?”

[color=a187be]“My name matters not. It should not be known by mortals.”[/color] Qael said, meaning every word. [color=a187be]“Tim the thumbling. been a loyal custodian for this grail and you know its lore and history better than I ever will. I cannot imagine you would want to live out your last few days in some damp cave. So I offer you this: you can join the grail at its new place. At the right hand of my daughter. In a realm she is making where one can dance and sing and feast as your ancestors have. What say you?”[/color]

“It’s a mighty fine offer, and I thank you for it,” Tim said sincerely. “But I am a tired soul, and with the grail in new hands and a new future on the wake of the world, it would be time for an old relic like me to get some sleep, same as the Saints.”

[color=a187be]“Very well then.”[/color] The grail vanished in a flash of chromatic light. Moved from the tomb miles down north in an instant. There it appeared upon the ground of Kal’s hamlet for the other extension of Qael’Naath to find it.

[color=a187be]“Goodbye, Tim the thumbling.”[/color] The cloud said. [color=a187be]“May my brother of death offer you a tranquil time beyond life.”[/color] With those words spoken, the cloud rushed out. As if it was carried by a storm’s wind.

“Farewell,” Tim said, laying on his back. He scooted against the pedestal until he was comfortable, and then closed his blind eyes - a big toothless smile frozen on his face. 

[hider=Summary]
Qael’Naath - in the form of the Winds of Magic - finds the tomb of the saints and enters it. Observing the long lost and forgotten hallway. He comes upon a throne room and continues on down, towards the ancient barracks and kitchen. Where he sees a statue of a nelf pointing the way. With magic he opens the tomb room. Where he finds two coffins. One of a nelf, another of a thumbling. There is a houllin berry bush growing within the tomb, and there he also finds the grail. Together with an ancient thumbling.

Qael’Naath and the thumbling exchange some words. The thumbling explains the history of the grail and his people. How the larger folks looked over them. He says the world is a cruel one now. The god of magic agrees but then says he has come to take the grail. The thumbling instead offers it freely to the god of magic.

The generous offer is not to go without reward. Qael offers the thumbling peace and quiet for his final days. In the realm his daughter is building. But the thumbling refuses. The god of magic accepts the answer and then teleports the grail away. Before the Winds scatter again and leave the tomb. Seconds later, Tim the thumbling rests comfortably forever.[/hider]

[hider=MP & DP]
[b]Qael’Naath Start:[/b] 5MP / 3DP
-1 MP >> Teleport the grail and some Houllin berries in it to Kal
[b]Qael’Naath Start:[/b] 4MP / 3DP
[/hider]