Chapter Text
“As the academic community has known for generations, every sapient individual carries a personal magical signature that depends on their place of origin, species, occupation, and natural aptitudes. While the tendency for that signature to change over time makes it a risky metric for quantitative analyses, its use in broad identification wards for demographic studies and surveillance measures has been thoroughly explored.
As a result, a series of postulates for magical signature behavior remain common in the literature to this day:
- The Species and Location of origin will determine minor background signature type. In individuals without magical aptitude, this will determine the entire magical signature.
- High aptitude for a different magic type will always override signature of origin.
- A highly magical profession or class will override aptitude (if it is different) once the individual has reached a sufficient level of advancement known as the Override Threshold (OT).
- Opposed magic types (i.e. Death: Life, Order: Disorder, Light: Void and subtypes) will have higher OTs than synergistic magic types (i.e.. Order: Life, Disorder: Death and subtypes.) Light and Void are not known to be synergistic with any types and thus have a moderate OT with most magics…”
—“The Magical Signature,” Dawnweaver et al., 602, pp. 15. Staple introductory textbook for first-year mage students across Azeroth.
A predator was prowling the Eversong woods. That was normal; the regionally high density of mana made apex predators more common than they had any right to be1b. This predator, however, was not hunting one of the small clumps of deer grazing on the undergrowth that was dappled with late afternoon sunlight. Nor had she any interest in the young dragonhawk guarding three eggs in a rocky outcrop several hundred meters south. No, she and her rangers stalked more sapient, bipedal, unwelcome prey.
With glowing gray eyes, the predator observed silently from a tree as a troll made his way up the slope from Lake Abasi to the east. Well over the official border. Past the formerly impenetrable shield around the Eversong woods. The second breach this month.
To his credit, the troll looked suitably wary, spiky red hair pushed back under gray and brown fabric, long green limbs keeping him low to the ground. He clearly knew that discovery would be his demise.
The predator and her rangers were still not quite sure what the intention of the Amani Trolls’ trespassing was (beyond the obvious poaching and ambushes already enacted), but perhaps this was an opportunity to find out. This troll ignored the fleeing deer in the clearing, and though he glanced in the direction of the hidden dragonhawk, he continued in a direct path up the slope.
The predator almost wanted to let him reach his destination, just to see what it was. But that was not her assignment. Her long ears twitched with each quiet crunch of the troll’s steps as he neared her tree, and she silently strung her bow.
Just as she was about to signal the others and ambush the trespasser, a build-up of arcane energy set the hairs on her arms and neck on end.
Pop!
With loud, obnoxious, bright flourish, a letter of thick stationery and expensive ink appeared in front of the predator. Even if she hadn’t squawked with indignation, it was already too late. The troll’s wide eyes shot up to her branch and he spun around, fleeing back down the slope towards the lake.
She whistled and two dark shapes pelted after him. Meanwhile, she took the letter with a sneer, unfolding it:
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
17 March, 6171a
Dear Ranger-Captain Windrunner,
Your request to petition against the implementation of new wards on the Southeastern Runestones of Ban’dinoriel has been accepted.
Please bring all relevant materials on the date and time enclosed and be prepared to answer questions from myself, Grand Magister Rommath, Lady Liadrin, and Ranger-General Windrunner. Your opposition, Archmage Jaina Proudmoore, will be present petitioning for the ward implementation.
(Seriously, though, Sylvanas. It’s already decided. The human mage is brilliant and her work is at the forefront of magical security. Even your mother agreed! Save us all some time and stop stalling this.)
Sincerely,
Prince Kael’thas of Quel’Thalas, Archmagister, Archmage of the Council of Six
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Disbelief flattened her ears. The prince had sent her a direct message in the middle of a sanctioned patrol and probably ruined her hunt. Did he not know, or simply not care? The letter hung insistently in front of her, and a magical quill with a blank sheet awaited her response. Furiously, she scribbled a reply and activated the waiting rune. The letter vanished with another pop.
Kael’thas,
I will be there. Do not contact me on patrol again.
R.C. Windrunner
Moments later, her rangers returned to the clearing, chests heaving, ears drooping. They’d lost him, to no fault of their own. The troll had a head start, and it was not far to the border. Plus, as loathe as her peers were to acknowledge it, the trolls were their equals in many aspects of woodcraft.
After some reassurances that Kael’thas was to blame and promises of potential retribution, Sylvanas and her rangers began the hour-long journey back to the nearby Farstriders Outpost they were stationed at. They reunited with the rest of the squad; the others had hunted more edible prey today and the rich smell of a roast venison and wild carrot stew already drifted through the air.
She had three more days in the field before she was apparently needed in Silvermoon, and she was determined to get as much done as she could. There were border breaches to contain, rangers to train, and, according to the letter, a meddling archmage’s interference she might actually be able to prevent.
The weakening of Ban’dinoriel absolutely was a problem (she knew that better than anyone in Silvermoon), but the proposed solution by Proudmoore was dangerous and unpredictable. The mage herself had admitted in her proposal that this was a “novel technique,” and Sylvanas had spent enough time around her younger brother, Lirath (another academic through-and-through), to know that was just mage-speak for “untested and risky.”
Perhaps she could ask him for some academic language of her own to use. Maybe speaking in a way that the magisters of Silvermoon understood would have more effect. No matter now, though. She could enjoy one last day in the fresh air around the campfire with her rangers. The city would always be waiting.
“…Put into practice, these postulates can be observed in the example of a Quel’dorei Druid from Silvermoon with high Life aptitude (A.), a Human Paladin from Dalaran (B.), and an (admittedly rare) Kaldorei Warlock from Darnassus (C.).
- Silvermoon and Quel’dorei are both predisposed to Arcane (Order) signatures. The high aptitude for Life magic will cover the Arcane signature. The Druid Class is from Life, which is synergistic with Arcane. Therefore, Individual A will have a very low Override Threshold and likely display a major Life signature with a very minor Arcane attribute.
- Humans are predisposed to Light, but Dalaran is associated with Arcane. Due to Individual B’s Paladin status, the Light will make up the majority of their signature.
- Kaldorei and Darnassus are both associated with Life magic, but a Warlock is Fel (Disorder). Because Disorder is closer to Death than to Life, the individual’s Override Threshold is quite high.”
—“The Magical Signature,” Dawnweaver et al., 602, pp. 15-16. Staple introductory textbook for first-year mage students across Azeroth.
3 days later:
Sylvanas
Silvermoon was a city of gilt and Sylvanas hated it. The overwhelming magic of the Sunwell suffused every aspect of the place with a golden glow, and nobody looked any further past shining spotless bricks to their cracked foundations below.
Maybe she was being dramatic, but still, there could be a joke somewhere in here about the Ivory Tower the elites of Silvermoon lived in, and how it was never recognized as such because of the thin layer of golden prosperity coating its walls.
Sometimes Sylvanas wanted to scrape her dagger against those walls to make an appalling screech sound and shake the passing aristocrats from their complacency.
The decadent arches and towering spires overlooked the gaudy robes of merchants and magisters rushing to and fro across the Royal Exchange. Glossy hawkstriders pulled gleaming carriages full of useless baubles and their worse-than-useless sellers. The eternal drudgery of a city that never stopped flaunting its wealth was—
A splash of hawkstrider shit against her boots broke Sylvanas from her revelry.
Fuck.
The carriage at fault disappeared behind the morning crowds. People parted around her as she scraped her foot against the curb. An arcane cleaning construct scurried over to sweep up the mess. What an auspicious start to my day.
Still, it was almost time for the meeting. She continued toward Sunfury Spire, praying for no more incidents.
_______________
Jaina
Silvermoon was a city of magic and Jaina… appreciated it. She wouldn’t want to live here, probably, but it was interesting to see what happened when a society saw magic as its first solution to every problem. Jaina had been trained against overreliance on the arcane from a young age—both by the austere Tidesages of her youth and Archmage Antonidas, her mentor in Dalaran. It had a lot to do with practicality; magic was rare in her native Boralus, and during her studies she’d been too busy using her mana for training purposes.
But Silvermoon had the Sunwell and the mana-addicted populace already relied on magic to exist, so why not hire a magister’s apprentice to follow you around and teleport your every correspondence to its recipient, or magically sweep the cobblestones before your feet? Jaina could see the appeal, sort of. If one was an impossibly ancient, immortal aristocrat with nothing better to do.
The Court of the Sun was busy with morning traffic as Jaina crossed the square towards Sunfury Spire. Despite the crowds, elves parted around the human mage and Jaina felt curious eyes following her advance. Is it because of my round ears or my arcane signature this time? Many Quel’dorei couldn’t seem to decide between disdain for her human heritage, and attraction to her mana like crabs to a whalefall.
She was being unfair; Vereesa had always treated her normally—notwithstanding the one drunk confession that she’d first asked to be roommates in Dalaran ten years ago because she was missing the Sunwell—and so had the rest of the rangers. Even if Sylvanas Windrunner was now her life-work’s greatest obstacle, at least it wasn’t personal. Jaina had the sense that Sylvanas would rudely blockade anyone’s project if it suited her.
No matter. She was about to explain herself, again, to a group of people with superiority complexes larger than her entire home island of Kul Tiras. This was not unique to Silvermoon. Sometimes, Jaina wondered if she was a respected arcane researcher and youngest ever Archmage of the Kirin Tor, or just a professional ego-soother.
As usual, Jaina was offered complimentary magic disinfection and questioned in-depth upon reaching the Sunfury Spire’s grand entrance. Another attempt to stall her, or just plain racism on the elves’ part? It was always hard to tell.
After a thorough verification of her identity, she followed a quiet steward down the long hall towards the meeting chambers.
It’s time.
“The four ‘Postulates for Magical Signature Behavior’ have been well-established in the literature since they were first proposed by Dawnweaver et al. in 583 and further refined in his publication in 602. At the time, they aimed to provide concrete axioms for deciphering the ubiquitous ‘magical signature.’
However, we argue that such a processual approach is risky for a primarily qualitative, subjectively measured concept. Well-established exceptions to the so-called rules are consistent and common. Before now, it was simply not possible to categorize a multi-dimensional signature.
With the advent of more sensitive detection magics, we offer a novel alternative and propose separating the Species, Location, Aptitude, and Occupation signatures into discrete categories and assigning them values. These categories can be used to create more detailed wards and even specific defensive actions such as teleportation or entrapment based on detected magical signature type.
This paper aims to demonstrate the practical and theoretical applications to….”
—Introduction to “Overriding the OT: The case for a Quantitative Magical Signature,” Proudmoore et al., 608, pp. 2. Jaina Proudmoore’s magister thesis proposal.
Sylvanas
Sylvanas was going insane. It had to be her, because that was more likely than every decision maker in Quel’Thalas losing their collective minds at once.
She was no magister. Perhaps she was missing some benefit to letting a barely grown, human mage use experimental magic to alter ancient defensive structures on the most contentious border of Quel’Thalas. Maybe the wisdom of age brought perspective that Sylvanas lacked. (Or maybe the Prince saw another pretty young mage and wanted to impress her). It was Sylvanas’ right and duty as a Ranger-Captain, however, to officially challenge military or defensive decisions before the Prince and Ranger-General if she perceived them as unsound. Even if they were “already decided.”
As she paced the gilded hall outside the meeting chambers, the Ranger-Captain’s ears swiveled at the sound of footsteps. The accompanying shiver of Arcane energy told Sylvanas who was arriving. The elf deliberately relaxed her posture, leaning back against polished stone with arms crossed. It’s time.
Moments later, two figures turned the corner. The taller elven steward led a young human woman to the chamber doors. With a polite nod to Sylvanas, he informed them that the Prince would call them in shortly, before retreating briskly.
Proudmoore was irritatingly attractive. Her purple Dalaran mage robes didn’t leave much to the imagination (but there was plenty there to imagine), and her long blonde hair was swept back in a neat ponytail. Her blue eyes scanned the hallway neatly, landing on Sylvanas. She stopped and stood there neatly, apparently waiting for the Ranger-Captain to speak.
Sylvanas thought she looked a little too neat. This woman, who had written long, complex Arcane theses in rushed cursive Thalassian and Common, who had made (allegedly) revolutionary advancements in magic that impressed even the elites of Silvermoon and disrupted the defensive actions of their entire military, this source of Sylvanas’ unrelenting ire for the past year, shouldn’t be so polite and neat.
Wasn’t she from Kul Tiras, the island of sailors, coarse language, and whiskey? Who had taught her to act like some sort of Quel’dorei noble scion?
Probably Vereesa, actually.
Sylvanas didn’t like it. So, she did what any good ranger would, when faced with an uncertain new opponent. She prodded it with an arrow.
She gave the mage a deliberately slow once-over, dragging her gaze to Proudmoore’s eyes with a small sneer.
“If it isn’t the great Archmage herself, here to bless Silvermoon in the flesh.”
“Don’t act like we haven’t met before, Sylvanas. I’m your sister’s best friend. I’ve been to your family home.”
Pushing off the wall with a foot, Sylvanas prowled a circle around the human, ears pinning back.
“’Don’t act like’ being in Vereesa’s good graces grants you anything from me. Little Moon would trust a troll if it offered a few well-placed compliments.”
Proudmoore swiveled to keep her in sight, face darkening. She opened her mouth to retort before pausing, seeming to recognize the deliberate provocation. Coolly, she replied,
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did; if these are the manners she can expect from her older sister, the troll would be an improvement.”
Fair enough. Sylvanas knew she was being… somewhat immature. This mage was an honored visitor and Sylvanas a Ranger-Captain. She was not, technically, an “uncertain new opponent” out in the wild. Security concerns or not, needling Proudmoore like a Cadet fresh from training was, as her mother would say, unbefitting for the next Ranger-General of Quel’Thalas.
Still. The mage posed a clear threat, and someone had to stay on guard. They waited in tense silence. Sylvanas stalked back to her wall to glower at Proudmoore, who did an admittedly decent job looking unaffected. Disappointing.
In truth, Sylvanas had indeed met the mage before, nearly a decade ago, but it was a brief lunch with Vereesa in Dalaran. Proudmoore had been just out of adolescence, still full of insecurity and naïve hope for the world. Ten years was allegedly a long time for humans. She supposed it made sense that the woman now in front of her—while certainly no seasoned veteran of academia or diplomacy—could perhaps hold her own against some low-effort elven condescension1c
It remained to be seen, however, if Proudmoore could face without flinching the ultimate paragon of condescension that was Prince Kael’thas. The elven prince suffered from high self-esteem, as Sylvanas’ mother Lireesa had once so gracefully put it. He usually meant well, but intentions mattered little in a results-oriented world. Especially when it comes to our national security, Sylvanas thought darkly.
Kael’thas’ motivations were as yet unclear. Sylvanas didn’t think he wanted the Amani border weakened, but she suspected that he, like many of Silvermoon’s full-time residents, was blinded by the shiny idea of improvements in a far-off place, proposed by an admittedly very pretty young archmage. That’s the problem with these mage-types, she mused. If they never leave Silvermoon, they have no perspective.
Footsteps approached from within the meeting chambers, and Sylvanas immediately snapped to attention, languid prowl replaced by stiff posture, ears forward, arms behind her back. From the corner of her eye, she saw Proudmoore giving her a curious glance before attempting a similarly composed stance as they both faced the door.
With a creak, the gilded wood opened to reveal a bored-looking steward, who stepped aside and announced in a flat voice,
“The Lady Archmage Proudmoore of Dalaran and Ranger-Captain Windrunner here to see you, my lord.”
Sylvanas strode into the chamber, gaze sweeping across the four figures at the polished table ahead of her. Ever-smirking Kael’thas, draped in gaudy crimson and gold robes. Serious Liadrin, red hair pulled back and white priestess robes pristine. Grand Magister Rommath, face barely visible behind his high collar and unusual black hair. And, of course, the Ranger-General, Sylvanas’ mother: Lireesa Windrunner, stern and perfectly composed, face and ears revealing nothing as she looked between the young Ranger-Captain and the human mage.
Sylvanas paused before the intricate rug in the center of the room, one ear flicking back to track the more hesitant tread of Proudmoore following behind. Even knowing this was an official meeting about national security, she couldn’t help feeling reminded of standing before her parents after an argument with Alleria or Vereesa (or, rarely, Lirath, though their little brother was more likely to act as peacemaker than instigator) as a child.
The cool gaze of her mother was uncomfortably reminiscent of how it had looked during Vereesa’s tearful accusations of hawkstrider doll theft or Alleria’s demands that Sylvanas stop stalking her through the woods on her dates. Maybe this time would go more favorably for Sylvanas?
“So,” Kael’thas drawled, interrupting her musing. “We gather today to go over, for the last time—we hope—this summer’s expedition to the Amani border and Jaina’s planned improvements to the wards. And, of course, the objections raised by the esteemed Ranger-Captain here.” His displeasure was apparent.
Sylvanas fought to keep her ears still. Kael’thas wasn’t wrong; she was delaying a major project and taking up the time of several busy people. She would not apologize, however.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet, your highness. I have several safety concerns regarding this… plan, but perhaps our honored guest could summarize the current agenda in better detail than I?”
_____
Jaina
All eyes turned to Jaina. She stiffened under Sylvanas’ smug look.
“That is acceptable; I actually had a few questions for her, myself.” Surprisingly, it was Liadrin who spoke up next. The Priestess didn’t look hostile to Jaina, but some of these people had truly mastered the art of the blank face (and ears. If she’d had moveable ears of her own, Jaina just knew hers would be all over the place).
Jaina cleared her throat. “Of course, Priestess. So, as outlined in pages 8-14 of the document I provided last week, the expedition would begin here in Silvermoon in six weeks’ time. I would portal to the Northeast Runestone1d and begin there. The work on that stone should take about a week, during which time the ward will be… down. As you can see I’m planning to use the Abasi Farstrider Outpost as a base of operations for that week and I would check-in daily with the rangers there to—”
“Could you expand on what the ward being down would entail, and how large the affected area would be?” Sylvanas interjected smoothly. One of Liadrin’s eyebrows ticked up. Kael’thas sighed and motioned for Jaina to go on.
“Right. As I reset the runestone to include the more sensitive signature detection and automatic teleportation, I’ll have to disable them completely for about a day. Once the new setup is activated, it will take about another week for the ambient mana to charge up the ward to functional levels.”
“And the area of effect?” Sylvanas pressed. Jaina winced. This was the part that had concerned the Ranger-General, too:
“The entire border section between the two Runestones will be down for the duration of either stone’s maintenance. I will also need to set up smaller waypoints along the border between the stones, which is really what will take up the most time during the whole expedition, but—”
“I see. Thank you, Proudmoore.” Sylvanas cut her off again. Her ears were pushed forward in what must have been a display of triumph. Jaina thought she looked way too smug.
And rather attractive too— she buried the thought as it formed. Now is not the time to be contemplating the hotness of my best friend’s awful, interrupting sister.
After a moment of rather awkward silence, it was Grand Magister Rommath who spoke up next, addressing Jaina. “Your proposal mentioned a way to avoid completely disabling the ward, I believe by connecting it to an alternative power source?”
Several sets of ears perked in interest and five pairs of glowing eyes turned back to Jaina. She swallowed a sigh. She’d really been trying to avoid this option, for several reasons.
By resonating with the Runestone system herself, she theoretically could use her own magic to power an emergency activation. Her mana pool was tremendous, and the calculations agreed that she probably could use it to power up the small section of the shield for a very short period of time. It was just... very risky.
Normally, the Runestones were powered by special generators that absorbed the very rich ambient mana (hence why very few other places on Azeroth could sustain anything like Ban’dinoriel) and converted it into useable energy for the shield. Jaina’s improvements would require even more energy because her ward system would trap and teleport intruders back to their region of origin (based on the “Location” aspect of their magical signature). Between the time she altered those Runestones and the point when they were fully charged (several weeks in total), they would have little to no function. Unless, of course, she was on standby to power them. Theoretically.
Jaina scanned the five faces watching her. Kael’thas and Rommath both looked intrigued and pleased, no doubt considering the fascinating new magical concept and the glories involved. Liadrin still seemed thoughtful; she had been jotting down notes, and she flipped between those and Jaina’s proposal document. The Ranger-General Windrunner had sharpened her gaze on Sylvanas, who still looked inordinately smug.
Jaina turned back to Rommath. “Yes, there’s the possibility I could use my own mana pool as standby for the wards. It would only activate in an emergency and could be… taxing to me.”
“So, there’s no guarantee that this unprecedented technique could even solve the problem? It might just drain you and leave us all vulnerable?” Sylvanas was practically radiating contempt as she turned to their audience, “And we’re still planning on setting her loose, barely supervised, into Eversong with only daily check-ins?”
“If you’re so concerned about my supervision then why don’t you lurk about the area, Ranger-Captain?” Jaina snapped.
Sylvanas raised a brow. “Sorry, little mage,” she drawled. “My unit has a diplomatic escort mission to Lordaeron this summer, followed by our mandatory month of leave. I’m afraid I’m too busy to pencil ‘magesitting’ into my calendar.”
For the first time, the Ranger General leaned forward and spoke.
“Ranger supervision and check-ins were one of my caveats for allowing this expedition to begin with. Though her decorum leaves something to be desired,” she glanced at Sylvanas, who had the grace to at least look chagrined, “the Ranger-Captain makes a fair point. I would prefer to see a constant ranger escort, both for her own safety and our border security.”
Jaina knew this was reasonable. In fact, she would rather have someone watching her back during the many long hours of focus. But she couldn’t help the flash of annoyance hot in her cheeks as Sylvanas slid her a triumphant look.
What are we, twelve?
_________________
Sylvanas
The meeting went on for another hour and a half. Lady Liadrin had more notes about logistics, and Rommath and Kael’thas wanted another discussion of the magical theory behind something called “Location-Signature Entropy Minimization,” during which Sylvanas did her best impersonation of a ranger statue carved to stand at attention.
It was eventually decided that Sylvanas’ sister Vereesa, also a Ranger-Captain, would be a perfect escort, considering her long-time friendship with Jaina and that her squad had no pending assignments for the summer. Kael’thas was already dictating the assignment to his enchanted quill, which moved with flourish across his signature (expensive, gilded) letter-paper. With admirable patience, Ranger-General Lireesa reminded the prince of necessary details in an even voice.
Sylvanas considered the concessions she’d obtained for the expedition. In the true spirit of compromise, everyone was inconvenienced. The supervising Ranger-Captain would be able to stop the expedition at any time (theoretically, though truly it would be hard to stop halfway through the ward alterations) and would be responsible for preventing and reporting any Amani interference. Despite her earlier disparaging remarks, Sylvanas did trust Vereesa’s instincts; she was a competent ranger and had the best interests of Quel’Thalas (and, Sylvanas supposed begrudgingly, Jaina) in mind. Perhaps more importantly, there were to be several rotating squads of rangers on standby in case anything went wrong at the border. If a day went by without a check-in, they’d be deployed to the Abasi Outpost.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than one newly appointed archmage (a human at that) wandering their borders and tinkering with the wards. Perhaps Proudmoore would even figure out how the Amani had been breaching Ban’dinoriel these past several months.
Once the steward escorted them out of the council chamber, Sylvanas couldn’t help but watch, ears perked towards the surging arcane, as Jaina summoned a portal and strode through with little but a disparaging look towards the Ranger-Captain over her shoulder. The portal closed up behind the mage. A few strands of Sylvanas’ hair were blown into her face by the artificial breeze; she snorted and tucked them back in, turning down the hallway towards the Portal Room. There was still time to visit Little Moon in Dalaran before meeting back up with her squad. If she hurried, maybe she could deliver the “good news” before Kael’thas’ letter.
Annotations and Excessive Explanations!
1a. So my understanding of the date system is they restarted at Year 0 with the First Great War. The wiki says ~Year 20 is when Sylvanas first dies, and 30 is the destruction of Theramore. Year 6 was (possibly?) when the Horde-supported Amani broke through and killed Lireesa, making Sylvanas the Ranger-General. This is a world without the most recent great wars, however (remember canon is a fruit and I am making La Croix), and Sylvanas is still a happy little Ranger-Captain. But also I want an older Jaina, so we’ll put this story around Year 25. BUT since no big war means no calendar reset, and wiki says Year 0 = King’s Calendar Year 592, I say name the year 617 and leave it. We can pretend it somehow makes sense that everyone else would follow Stormwind’s calendar (TL;DR: Timeline/dates explanation)
1b. That’s how we’re gonna explain the ridiculous ecology of Quel’thalas: mana apparently helps feed the insane number of lynxes and dragonhawks
1c. We’re going with the idea they’re both their species equivalent of like, late 20s early 30s: so not the grizzled war criminals of the future but also not,, actual teenager Jaina?
1d. I’m using that Warcraft III map of Quel’thalas with the inner/outer elfgates, then the Runestones, then Lake Abasi and Zul’Aman a bit further east. I want to be as accurate as possible to the worldbuilding aspects of lore, but it’s hard getting information about pre-third-war Quel’thalas and tbh most of my WoW knowledge is from fanon. fr tho half my time writing this is spent glaring at the wikis wondering how much shit I can just make up, so pls welcome the absolutely fictional Abasi Farstrider Outpost