Oshu’gun was a great diamond the size of a mountain and legend had it that it was actually a Narhu spaceship. Brian remembered a debate at their former headquarters in Shatt, one said it was natural, another said it fell from the sky, another said spaceship. After the argument had continued for some time, Lovetails had simply said “It is a spaceship”, “How would you know?” someone asked. She simply looked at them, smiled, and said “I’ve ridden in it, argument over,” and sauntered out of the room. There was always more to that lady than meets the eye.
Ataracia flew low over the landscape of Terrokar Forest heading to the pass into Shadowmoon Valley. She guided her Blue Drake through trees and caught thermals off cliff faces, running the forest like an obstacle course. It was both a way to keep her mind off the coming confrontation and just sheer fun of pushing the limits of her flying capabilities.
She was quite uncomfortable with meeting her father again. It had been many years since she had seen him last. Though she knew in her heart he was a good man, he had made some terrible choices and many of them had gone wrong. She had blamed him for the loss of her home, for her mother’s death and the death of countless others. In fact, he was guilty of most of these, but only to a degree. The Burning Legion was really responsible, but he had made poor decisions and had made even poorer choices in allies. He had paid dearly as well. His family was dead or estranged, his body was corrupted and broken, his evil clan of Deathsworn a ruse to keep Illidan unsuspecting until he struck back at his former ally.
Orious, Brian, Mert and Assassen had gone into Black Temple and helped defeat Illidan, and redeemed her father to the extent it was possible. But none of that changed the past, and though she could see that his life since the destruction of Shadowmoon and her mother’s death had been a living hell, she could still not find it in herself to forgive him. Why then was she returning? Perhaps she was going back to say just that, perhaps to hear his explanation. She had been a teenager in school at the Temple when the attacks began. Her father had evacuated Shadowmoon as fast as possible and she was the first one he sent away. He had taken her and her sisters to Shatt as soon as he could find a mount. He left her mother there to keep the evacuation going and he took them all on his great black drake to her aunts in Shattrath. She remembered that awful ride with green felfire in the distance behind and her father pushing his own limits flying them to safety in the darkest night she could remember. He left promising to return with their mother…but he never did.
When she saw him again he had changed. He was one of the Broken, genetically altered by the fel energies in Shadowmoon. His form did not horrify her, the fact that he had left her mother there to die never made sense to her, the fact that he partnered with the devil Illidan was unfathomable to her. His ruse at the end may have redeemed him somewhat to his people, but not to her. For her he was a disappointment. He was a man who could have been great even in the situation that had befallen him, but one who backed the wrong horse every time.
The landscape changed and the rough hills approaching the Shadowmoon arose in front of her…these hills were unchanged, a rough gorse brush and lavender understory and tall trees upon the darkened hillsides…beautiful still amid all the vile workings of the Legion.
One day, perhaps, there would be a peaceful world again; one day the wastelands might be reclaimed….why is it always one day and never now.
Brian looked down upon the edge of Nagrand. It was a jagged edge, as if the world had been fractured by a great hammer…beyond that the Twisting Nether, a place that was not exactly space, but was not exactly anything. Somewhere out in that twisted extra-dimensionality waited Sargeras and the Burning Legion. Defeated on Azaroth yet again, but their legacy still tainted the remnants of Draenor. Orious was once trapped in it for a short time…he said it was like nothing, like being wrapped in cotton candy. Luckily the druid’s stay was brief. A little bird came and told Brian and he sent his nether drake to find the druid.
Something shot past Brian’s face and then shot by again. Brian reigned in his mount. Hovering there Brian saw the little bird and chuckled…Orious sent that little bird around a lot when he had a message to deliver. The bird came and perched on Brian’s shoulder and spoke his message. The message was: “Found Thrall, Orious and Thrall to Wyrmrest; Lovetails to Shadowmoon. Look after her. Find Akama if needed.”
Why the hell would they need Akama? Well, druids were a cryptic sort. Their actions more understandable than a woman’s but their thought processes were equally indecipherable. Although once you had the full picture, it was usually well considered. If O said to look after her they might ought to be available. First though they ought to check out the Twilight Ledge. Assassen had stopped up ahead and Brian flew to his position and told him about the message.
Ass scanned the area below and around him in the automatic way any good combat hardened paladin might, while he waited for his companion to finish his conversation with the bird. Ass wondered if Orious used the bird because it was the most efficient messenger, or just because it made the recipient look silly as hell talking to it. Probably the former but he’d bet the humor wasn’t lost on the druid, and appreciated as an unintended or even intended effect. Brian came and gave him the message. “Okay we’re for Shadowmoon then,” said Ass as he wheeled about on his red drake. “Let’s checkout the ridge up here first,” said Brian. “Screw that,” said Ass, “If O says look after her, we’re going after her.” With that Assassen hit the gas and his dragon dwindled rapidly to the east. “Damned dwarves…such a stickler for orders….never think outside of the box, unless it has fried chicken in it.” Brian took off at an intercept pace and disappeared into the east.
Arriving at Windhammer she saluted the stablemaster and flight attendant and went into the inn for a beer. It had been a long day and she was determined to put off the encounter with her father for as long as possible. The inside of the Winhammer clan in was all stone, a low ceiling for such a large structure and buried underground like a bunker, typical dwarven digs. The common room was lively, a small folk ensemble on a stage played amid the din of lunchtime business and early drinkers. Dwarves drank all day, they never seemed to get drunk unless they wanted to, so mid-day they drank, ate lunch and laughed but they remained sober. She picked out a table against the western wall and ordered a lager and a chicken sandwich. The innkeeper came over and bowed and said “It is good to see you again my lady. It has been a long time.” She knew there was a ‘your highness’ waiting in the wings of his conversation, but they had known each other a long time and he knew not to vocalize it. “Dreg, how have you been?” she said with a smile, “Your lager is as good as always.” He smiled and thanked her for the compliment. Dreg may well be the root for the word dregs, for he was often heard to grumble to customers for wasting the last of the beer. “Its good for ya” he would bellow. Its no wonder he often had beer stains on his back. They spoke for a moment more and he moved on with another bow and a nod at the waitress that meant show some special attention here. The waitress brought her a piece of cobbler that she hadn’t ordered. “Compliments of the house, fresh apples this week from Nagrand.” She ate the cobbler slowly and the waitress brought her coffee, also on the house. It was nice to be remembered, though she was sure that the waitress couldn’t know who she was, in fact only Dreg and the head of the clan really knew her and her history. It would not have been awfully surprising to see Kurdran stroll in for lunch, but he did not and she was not in the mood for long discussions, since she had one she was dreading already.
There was a commotion at the door. A querulous voice boomed out “Whaddya mean I canna bring my beer in here? It’s a bar now idna it? I mean whats more natural than bringing a beer into a bar? Next you’ll tell me I canna take my beer outta th’ bar and then there will be trouble.” She knew that voice without a backward glance. It was Ass and he was making his “entrance”. This kind of boisterous entrance was reserved for a planned drunk and brawl or if he thought something was up and wanted to divert attention. Brian should be walking over to the table about now and his mission would be accomplished. Ass would remain at the bar loudly entertaining all and sundry.
“What brings a girl like you into a place like this” said Brian. She looked at him, rolled her eyes and said “O my God, you did not just say that.” Brian laughed “Always wanted to use that line…figured you would laugh.” She did, and asked him to sit. “Let me guess…Orious sent his little bird and told you to follow me?” “Well not exactly,” said Brian “but he told us you were going to Shadowmoon and to look after you.” She cracked a wry smile. “You know I’m a damned good cook, and I’m sure I can find a recipe…that bird would make a tasty tidbit for a well meaning but overprotective druid I know.” They both laughed.
“So what’s up,” asked Brian. “I have some business in Shadowmoon, and I know there is no use in trying to put you both off, or trying to keep you from coming with me,” she sighed and said to herself with a smile “silly druid,’ and then continued her thought, “but you must stop where I tell you to stop. Everyone has business that they need to tend to on their own,” said Love. “Agreed” said Brian. Love nodded to Brian, tossed a tip on the table and the money for her tab, and she and Brian made their way out of the bar. Ass extricated himself from the bar and took off after them. Someone hollered behind them about him not being allowed to take his beer out of the bar. There was a thump, and Ass emerged with his pint still in his hand. He turned around and said “I told ya there’d be trouble…now ya got another knot on that knot between yer shoulders. Never, never try to separate a dwarf from his drink! Especially this dwarf!” They were already mounted when Ass came rolling up still drinking his pint. He finished it in one long swallow, leapt into his saddle and tossed the mug to the barman that was running full tilt at him. “Don’t let’s have more trouble boys; else your knots will have knots.” The barmen stopped, looked at each other and ran off. “Can you believe these are dwarves? They act like humans, making silly-ass rules that interfere with a man’s drinkin’ is simply not right.” He sounded so sincere that both his companions burst out laughing. “Really!! If it wouldn’t ruin the beer I’d drop an infernal on the lot of them.” They all laughed and flew off. The Warden’s Cage loomed above them as she landed and dismounted. “Stay up here. I will have safe passage below,” she said. She hoped they would not ask questions. She didn’t want her personal business becoming the talk of the guild. “What shall we do while we wait?” asked Assassin. “Well the place is still crawling with demons…let’s mop up around here.” With that they both strode into the open and Ass bellowed and held his axe aloft “Somebody want some o’ this?” And it was on.
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