Wayward Winds

Whispered by GM Yurifury...

"You're a Skychaser, are you not?" Voixra asks you.
The question catches you off-guard. You hesitate to respond, reticent of your past. With some reluctance, you reply that you once were, but are no longer.
Voixra smiles at you with eyes that look right through you. "It was Tahu Sagewind who once told me that tauren do not view darkness as evil. They know it to be right, for it is a thing that occurs naturally."
The words cause an anger to rise inside of you. You thumb at the miniature totem hanging from your neck and nod politely as you bury it down deep.

The lady takes her leave shortly after, and the steward, Laceus, comes huffing your direction. He appears exhausted and irritated as he leads you out of the gigantic chamber. The clopping of your hooves against the marble floor is the only thing you hear for several minutes, much to the steward's chagrin.
Finally, the two of you come to a halt and Laceus clears his throat. "Here's the way out," he says with a gesture towards a curtained doorway. "The others will be waiting to meet you on the other side. Don't forget this either, for your communication with the lady." He hands you a hearthstone.
You look at the mysterious doorway and snort hotly at the realization that it's too short for your height. Damn it all, you think to yourself. With quiet dignity, you stoop under the doorway and pass through the translucent curtains. For a moment, the fabric gets caught on your horns and you struggle to untangle yourself…
...And just as you're freed of the sheer blue veil, a suffocating smoke fills your lungs and you stumble to your knees as it stings your eyes.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
You identify the sound immediately. The Taur'ahe funeral drum. As your vision settles, you realize you are standing in a sea of fireflies. Smoke rises from their stations all around you for miles. Funeral pyres. You roar in frustration as the memory washes over you without your permission.
"You're blood under the hoof."
You remember Drak Grimtotem throwing all his weight at you in unbridled fury. You hear the crunch of your spear driving through his skull, you feel your hands run sticky and warm with his blood. You begin to collapse unto yourself. The sound of the funeral drum beating never stops.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
The caw of a raven reels you back.
You look into the smoky sky and stumble backwards as a shadow swoops down and snatches the miniature totem from right off your neck. You watch the raven take flight with your family heirloom just long enough to discover a clear path beyond the fuming pyres. A place untouched by the fireflies. You begin to crawl towards it before another memory hits you.
Beram Skychaser, his limp body impaled upon a massive stake driven into the ground. Narm and Siln Skychaser, their corpses burned to unidentifiable crisps. Tigor, hacked to pieces barbarously. You can feel anger and spite bubbling to the surface.
Meanwhile, the drumming only gets louder.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
You reach the place untouched by smoke and find a set of unlit pyres, each occupied by a stranger you've never seen before. A figure breaks from the shadows with a match in its hand. You're confused and light-headed from the smoke, yet the longer you stare, the more you're convinced the strangers are alive. But the figure continues to lean forward, intent on lighting the pyres. You shout at it to stop, you tell it they're alive, but the figure doesn't listen.
A small flame licks the wicker and one-by-one the pyres are swallowed by red, yellow and orange. Thick plumes of smoke volute upwards into the sky, turning it black. Ashes swirl around you as a sense of hopelessness seeps into your muscles. I can't save them. Your vision warps. I can only stand by and do nothing. The skies roar in destructive fury. I've lost my totem, I've lost everything.
Suddenly, the face of Elder Aor Skychaser appears through the smoke. You stare in awe as the words echo in your head.
"You have given up on chasing,
And so you have given up on who you are,
And given up on me.
Look into yourself, Mignon,
You are more than
What we have become.
You must face who you are,
Remember the chase.
Remember…"
Something flickers to life inside of you and, without a second thought, you rush heedlessly into the flames.

It's less warm than you originally think it's going to be. In fact, it's pleasantly mild. But it's incredibly blinding. You shift your eyes and see clouds floating in the sky. Somehow, you can breathe again, too. A pleasant breeze sways overhead, and the stray leaf of an Eversong tree gets caught in your mane. You are absolutely baffled.

Am I back in Quel'Thalas?

You try to think back to the strange incident, yet the harder you think of it, the harder it becomes to recall. All you can remember for certain is that the strangers standing before you now are the same strangers you saw on the funeral pyres.
And one of them is an elf that looks like he just stepped out of an ink vat.
“Hi, my name’s Kinzin Netherlight and I’m a Void Elf Paladin.”