Iylldrraen Ironhide was not one who basked in the beauty of Desolace. Despite the great beauty that the Cataclysm, the rise of Deathwing, had caused, he saw the deception: with restoration of some areas, others were left decimated, sadly, greater was the later. This wasn't the first mass destruction the great druid's eyes have seen, for he could recall the bestowing of ArchDruid upon Malfurion Stormrage. He had even been present when Malfurion informed Alexstrasza, Ysera, and Nozdormu about Illidan's recreation of the Well of Eternity. He'd gone to speak with Alexstrasza several times throughout his life, and couldn't help but believe that the three great dragons knew of Deathwing's return. There was not much that could scare Iylldrraen, for he'd seen so much, but the thought of this world ending and so many perishing did.<br/><br/>For this exact reason Iylldrraen had sent word to one of his Orc associates among the highest ranks of the Earthen Ring. Iylldrraen had expressed his concern, as well as the likely fact that he would be participating in the ensuing war, to which his Orc associate, more like brother, had told him that it would be a great lose if Iylldrraen's bloodline were to end. Unable to cut the thought short, his brethren continued more emphatically that Iylldrraen should ensure that his bloodline not end, and that he could help. Iylldrraen knew what he implied, and for once, considered the idea. His orc brethren was pleased, and had agreed to send a Draenei, and a Troll to his location in Desolace. Iylldrraen said that, being honor bound, he would also provide whatever aid and support he could, or his associates could, to the Earthen Ring's cause. His brethren was pleased, but said that Iylldrraen had already done much, though he would definitely put the offer to good use.<br/><br/>Iylldrraen's bright eyes glinted off of his faintly bark-tinted skin, his brilliant, emerald colored mane tied back in a tight ponytail as he awaited the shamans arrival. He was a lean night elf, and considering he was also a feral, it drew some jovial remarks from the equally aged druids he associated with. He didn't bother with much clothing, and what he did was loose: a bear-hide tunic, a silky, forest green cloak, and black panther-hide pants. He wore no boots; he didn't need to. He had to admit to himself that he was anxious. This was not uncommon for the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle to...share in such a way. He just never believed<i>he</i>would need to. Not that he was some great catch, but that he thought that he would pass from this world peacefully, knowing that it was in balance. Ah well, if he did truly pass, at least he'd have one more truly 'feral' moment to remember.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>