01-03-2011, 05:43 PM
The World's End tavern, formerly bustling with patrons and staff, now sits fairly vacant. Eishla, a young tauren shaman, sits at a table near the bar. Her presence is one of gravity, pulling others to her boisterous, gregarious nature and youthful passion. Some of her armor lays beside the table, a mismatch of gifts from various grateful clients of her heroic exploits. Some is also discarded refuse or claimed from dead enemies. However, she pays it all no mind, choosing instead to drink heartily with two new friends.
The first is a pale troll with shock white hair and cold eyes. His presence is unmistakably that of a death knight, and the chill of the Lich King hangs about his person like a spot of blood in one's tunic. Despite this, the man who calls himself Trozzesh doesn't give off the air of a servant of the dark, nor does he seem to favor the lightness of a hero. His aura is dead, muted. A suit of plate shrouds his body, thoroughly worn but obviously cared for with a craftsman's eye. Even at the table, with a full pint of kungaloosh, his hands remain at his sides by twin axes that match the double-bladed axe strapped to his back.
The other person at the table is Donalzon, an officer within the Ironsong Tribe and a paladin of some renown. He has seen quite a few tides, but his over-indulgence in the pleasures of life make plain that he is far from too serious for fun and frivolity. Several pints of kungaloosh already sit empty before him, and he eyes Trozzesh's drink deviously during breaks in Eishla's talking.
"How did Trozzesh and I meet? Well that's not a long story at all! Like I was telling you earlier, before the Cataclysm, I had an awesome life. Hanging out with friends, learning more about the Earthmother and her children, teaching the younger ones, stuff like that. It was amazing! What better life is there? But, then it all changed.
âWhen the Earthmother began to cry out in pain, it hit me hard. So hard that I couldn't even get out of bed for days, and I cried and wept for my beloved world. I don't remember how long it was, but eventually some of my young friends came to visit, to make sure I was okay and ask what had happened. How do you explain to children what it feels like when the very ground you walk on is screaming? I tried to tell them about what was going on, but as I talked I realized I honestly didn't know much more than what I'd heard and felt. Then they asked me if I was going to heal the scars in the world, and I was somewhat dumbfounded.â Eishla pauses to take a long draw from her drink. âThen I asked myself: Why not? So I said, âYes!ââ Eishla banged the table and stood up obviously over excited knocking over a couple of the empty pints in front of Donalzon. âI will heal the scars of the Earthmother!ââ She sat back down. At this point Donalzonâs eyes wide, he mutters to himself âNot a long story eh?â
"So I packed some belongings and set off to see what damage had been done for my own eyes. I was SO not prepared. Just seeing the tear in the Barrens alone made me fall on my knees in anguish. I used to love running across the plains, hunting zhevra and watching the strangers in Ratchet. But it was all torn apart. I felt like my childhood had been ripped away.
"That's when Trozzesh showed up! I was feeling the dirt in my hands, trying to get a feel for what I could do to rebuild my homeland, when he put his hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, I was a bit frightened. I mean look at him!" Eishla gestures toward Trozzesh with both hands a bit wobbly while the troll looks back at her impassively, only the barest hint of a smile hidden beneath a tusk. âAnd it was the strangest thing that he didnât actually say anything. Just stood there with his hand on my shoulder. Have you ever had one of those moments when you felt so many things at once that you didnât even know which emotion was strongest? Well that was me. So neither of us said anything while time seemed to stop. It wasnât until I had let all the grains of dirt run through my fingers that he actually spoke. 'What does the Earthmother tell you, shaman?' I was astounded he knew that I was a shaman, but I guess I shouldn't have been. I told him how I could feel pain and anguish, how the healing had begun but it was difficult and would take millenia without help. And he just nodded, taking in what I said.
"When I finished, he started to walk away, and I was insulted. I mean really, who does that?! So I called to him âHey!â Of course then I realized I didnât know what to say, but he stopped and just stood there in midstride anyway. Finally I managed to blurt out 'At least tell me who you are before you go.â And he turned around, wearing this emotionless expression. He told me his name, and enough to make me afraid for him.
"I don't know if you know a lot about death knights, but I guess becoming one means forsaking everything you were before. EVERYTHING. Trozzesh doesn't even remember what it means to be a troll, let alone his family or friends or where he grew up. And he did some pretty nasty things as a death knight. Lots of torture and murder and all sorts of horrible things. He tried not to go into details, but I could tell." Trozzesh looks down into his pint and for the first time since they sat down takes a swig of the beverage, much to the resentment of Donalzon. Eishla looks thoughtfully at Trozzesh while she continues. "Well, when the death knights at Ebon Hold broke free from the Scourge, Trozzesh was left with nothing. He was free, but he had no past, no history. I always have people to turn to when I feel lost or confused, but he had no one at all, no job or cause, no purpose or anything to fight for. He told me he was empty.
"Well when you hear a story like that, you can't help but feel sorry for someone, and I thought I could be his friend! And then he wouldnât have to be empty. And we've been hanging out, adventuring and traveling ever since!"
Trozzesh passes his drink to Donalzon. "Thank you for your help in Silithus with the Twilight cultists. I do not think we would have been as successful without your assistance." Trozzesh speaks with a deep timbre and carefully pronounced syllables, as if unused to using his voice. "Have you heard anything about the Twilight here in the Outlands, or Northrend?"
Donalzon gulps down the kungaloosh, pleased to feel the sweet drink coating the insides of his throat and stomach with its warmth. "Not really. The Ironsong Tribe has found out that they're connected in a big way with the Cataclysm, and we have many operatives attempting to deal with them and stop their machinations. I myself am replacing armor and weapons I sold after Northrend, while they figure out where Iâm needed to bust some heads."
Trozzesh nods. "In my travels, I have heard many things about this Ironsong Tribe. Your actions speak well for them, as do the skills of Torine and Kosath. I admit I do not pay very much attention to the beings I encounter, friend or foe, but martial prowess is always something to be respected as a warrior. Perhaps your tribe would consider aiding Eishla in her quest to destroy Deathwing and return the world to balance."
Eishla slaps Trozzesh's arms lightly, wincing as the blow strikes folded obsidium. "I wouldn't go without you, silly! It's not like you have anything tying you down. And maybe they could use a decent blacksmith and miner who spends WAY too much time hunting for ore." Eishla turns to Donalzon, seeing his eyes gaze up from her bosom to her face and back and causing her to blush. "So how about it? Do you think your family would be interested in taking in a couple of strays? Well, one stray and one shaman looking for some friends anyway."
Donalzon smirks. "I'd have to confer with my guildmates first, of course. But maybe."
Trozzesh coughs. "May I have a word with you in private, Donalzon?"
Eishla frowns. "What are you going to talk about, Trozz? Nothing bad I trust?"
"Nothing bad, Eishla. Just a few things to clear up."
Trozzesh leads Donalzon to the doorway of the tavern, the street vendors nearly deserted at this hour. "Donalzon, you are a brave and noble warrior. I, too, am a fighter of some skill and mettle. However, I bring with me the taint of the Lich King. My distant past is lost, my recent past is the resume of a barbarian and villian. I have no hope for redemption, but there is something special about Eishla. Though she has not won renown or fought in great battles, her spirit is that of a heroine of legend. Her innocence and fire, that of youth and love unmarred, must not be tarnished by the shadows of war. The protection of this person and all she stands for is what I have dedicated myself to. There is nothing left in life for me, but if I can keep this light of hope shining, then this world can be healed.
"But she wishes to rush off to slay Deathwing with the folly of youth. I cannot protect her against such a foe alone. It is my hope that the Ironsong Tribe has similar goals to hers - repairing the damage that has been done and making those responsible for it pay dearly. Even if my deeds under the yoke of the Lich King prevent me from being a part of your organization, you must take her into your fold and watch over her. I will do anything to be sure that she is safe and among friends."
Trozzesh looks at Donalzon with a ferocity reminiscent of battle fury, and Donalzon eyes him with some suspicion. "Is there something going on between you two?"
Trozzesh looks away, almost disgusted. "No. Nor will there ever be. Do I have your word on this matter?"
"The Ironsong Tribe is home to many, including more than a few of the Ebon Blade, but we all follow tenets of respect. Are you willing to abide by our code?â
Trozzesh growls. "Yes, I am more than able to handle the niceties of social interaction, despite your subtle barbs. And Eishla would never dream of being rude to another intentionally."
Donalzon laughs lightly, putting his hand on Trozzesh's shoulder as he turns to re-enter the bar. "Then I'll see what I can do." Eishla is looking at him suspiciously as he comes back to the table, a smile on his face and several coins in an upraised hand aimed at the waitress. "Now where were we?" he says, a fresh pint of his prized beverage on its way over.
The first is a pale troll with shock white hair and cold eyes. His presence is unmistakably that of a death knight, and the chill of the Lich King hangs about his person like a spot of blood in one's tunic. Despite this, the man who calls himself Trozzesh doesn't give off the air of a servant of the dark, nor does he seem to favor the lightness of a hero. His aura is dead, muted. A suit of plate shrouds his body, thoroughly worn but obviously cared for with a craftsman's eye. Even at the table, with a full pint of kungaloosh, his hands remain at his sides by twin axes that match the double-bladed axe strapped to his back.
The other person at the table is Donalzon, an officer within the Ironsong Tribe and a paladin of some renown. He has seen quite a few tides, but his over-indulgence in the pleasures of life make plain that he is far from too serious for fun and frivolity. Several pints of kungaloosh already sit empty before him, and he eyes Trozzesh's drink deviously during breaks in Eishla's talking.
"How did Trozzesh and I meet? Well that's not a long story at all! Like I was telling you earlier, before the Cataclysm, I had an awesome life. Hanging out with friends, learning more about the Earthmother and her children, teaching the younger ones, stuff like that. It was amazing! What better life is there? But, then it all changed.
âWhen the Earthmother began to cry out in pain, it hit me hard. So hard that I couldn't even get out of bed for days, and I cried and wept for my beloved world. I don't remember how long it was, but eventually some of my young friends came to visit, to make sure I was okay and ask what had happened. How do you explain to children what it feels like when the very ground you walk on is screaming? I tried to tell them about what was going on, but as I talked I realized I honestly didn't know much more than what I'd heard and felt. Then they asked me if I was going to heal the scars in the world, and I was somewhat dumbfounded.â Eishla pauses to take a long draw from her drink. âThen I asked myself: Why not? So I said, âYes!ââ Eishla banged the table and stood up obviously over excited knocking over a couple of the empty pints in front of Donalzon. âI will heal the scars of the Earthmother!ââ She sat back down. At this point Donalzonâs eyes wide, he mutters to himself âNot a long story eh?â
"So I packed some belongings and set off to see what damage had been done for my own eyes. I was SO not prepared. Just seeing the tear in the Barrens alone made me fall on my knees in anguish. I used to love running across the plains, hunting zhevra and watching the strangers in Ratchet. But it was all torn apart. I felt like my childhood had been ripped away.
"That's when Trozzesh showed up! I was feeling the dirt in my hands, trying to get a feel for what I could do to rebuild my homeland, when he put his hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, I was a bit frightened. I mean look at him!" Eishla gestures toward Trozzesh with both hands a bit wobbly while the troll looks back at her impassively, only the barest hint of a smile hidden beneath a tusk. âAnd it was the strangest thing that he didnât actually say anything. Just stood there with his hand on my shoulder. Have you ever had one of those moments when you felt so many things at once that you didnât even know which emotion was strongest? Well that was me. So neither of us said anything while time seemed to stop. It wasnât until I had let all the grains of dirt run through my fingers that he actually spoke. 'What does the Earthmother tell you, shaman?' I was astounded he knew that I was a shaman, but I guess I shouldn't have been. I told him how I could feel pain and anguish, how the healing had begun but it was difficult and would take millenia without help. And he just nodded, taking in what I said.
"When I finished, he started to walk away, and I was insulted. I mean really, who does that?! So I called to him âHey!â Of course then I realized I didnât know what to say, but he stopped and just stood there in midstride anyway. Finally I managed to blurt out 'At least tell me who you are before you go.â And he turned around, wearing this emotionless expression. He told me his name, and enough to make me afraid for him.
"I don't know if you know a lot about death knights, but I guess becoming one means forsaking everything you were before. EVERYTHING. Trozzesh doesn't even remember what it means to be a troll, let alone his family or friends or where he grew up. And he did some pretty nasty things as a death knight. Lots of torture and murder and all sorts of horrible things. He tried not to go into details, but I could tell." Trozzesh looks down into his pint and for the first time since they sat down takes a swig of the beverage, much to the resentment of Donalzon. Eishla looks thoughtfully at Trozzesh while she continues. "Well, when the death knights at Ebon Hold broke free from the Scourge, Trozzesh was left with nothing. He was free, but he had no past, no history. I always have people to turn to when I feel lost or confused, but he had no one at all, no job or cause, no purpose or anything to fight for. He told me he was empty.
"Well when you hear a story like that, you can't help but feel sorry for someone, and I thought I could be his friend! And then he wouldnât have to be empty. And we've been hanging out, adventuring and traveling ever since!"
Trozzesh passes his drink to Donalzon. "Thank you for your help in Silithus with the Twilight cultists. I do not think we would have been as successful without your assistance." Trozzesh speaks with a deep timbre and carefully pronounced syllables, as if unused to using his voice. "Have you heard anything about the Twilight here in the Outlands, or Northrend?"
Donalzon gulps down the kungaloosh, pleased to feel the sweet drink coating the insides of his throat and stomach with its warmth. "Not really. The Ironsong Tribe has found out that they're connected in a big way with the Cataclysm, and we have many operatives attempting to deal with them and stop their machinations. I myself am replacing armor and weapons I sold after Northrend, while they figure out where Iâm needed to bust some heads."
Trozzesh nods. "In my travels, I have heard many things about this Ironsong Tribe. Your actions speak well for them, as do the skills of Torine and Kosath. I admit I do not pay very much attention to the beings I encounter, friend or foe, but martial prowess is always something to be respected as a warrior. Perhaps your tribe would consider aiding Eishla in her quest to destroy Deathwing and return the world to balance."
Eishla slaps Trozzesh's arms lightly, wincing as the blow strikes folded obsidium. "I wouldn't go without you, silly! It's not like you have anything tying you down. And maybe they could use a decent blacksmith and miner who spends WAY too much time hunting for ore." Eishla turns to Donalzon, seeing his eyes gaze up from her bosom to her face and back and causing her to blush. "So how about it? Do you think your family would be interested in taking in a couple of strays? Well, one stray and one shaman looking for some friends anyway."
Donalzon smirks. "I'd have to confer with my guildmates first, of course. But maybe."
Trozzesh coughs. "May I have a word with you in private, Donalzon?"
Eishla frowns. "What are you going to talk about, Trozz? Nothing bad I trust?"
"Nothing bad, Eishla. Just a few things to clear up."
Trozzesh leads Donalzon to the doorway of the tavern, the street vendors nearly deserted at this hour. "Donalzon, you are a brave and noble warrior. I, too, am a fighter of some skill and mettle. However, I bring with me the taint of the Lich King. My distant past is lost, my recent past is the resume of a barbarian and villian. I have no hope for redemption, but there is something special about Eishla. Though she has not won renown or fought in great battles, her spirit is that of a heroine of legend. Her innocence and fire, that of youth and love unmarred, must not be tarnished by the shadows of war. The protection of this person and all she stands for is what I have dedicated myself to. There is nothing left in life for me, but if I can keep this light of hope shining, then this world can be healed.
"But she wishes to rush off to slay Deathwing with the folly of youth. I cannot protect her against such a foe alone. It is my hope that the Ironsong Tribe has similar goals to hers - repairing the damage that has been done and making those responsible for it pay dearly. Even if my deeds under the yoke of the Lich King prevent me from being a part of your organization, you must take her into your fold and watch over her. I will do anything to be sure that she is safe and among friends."
Trozzesh looks at Donalzon with a ferocity reminiscent of battle fury, and Donalzon eyes him with some suspicion. "Is there something going on between you two?"
Trozzesh looks away, almost disgusted. "No. Nor will there ever be. Do I have your word on this matter?"
"The Ironsong Tribe is home to many, including more than a few of the Ebon Blade, but we all follow tenets of respect. Are you willing to abide by our code?â
Trozzesh growls. "Yes, I am more than able to handle the niceties of social interaction, despite your subtle barbs. And Eishla would never dream of being rude to another intentionally."
Donalzon laughs lightly, putting his hand on Trozzesh's shoulder as he turns to re-enter the bar. "Then I'll see what I can do." Eishla is looking at him suspiciously as he comes back to the table, a smile on his face and several coins in an upraised hand aimed at the waitress. "Now where were we?" he says, a fresh pint of his prized beverage on its way over.
Trozzesh
The shadows of my past weigh heavier than the hopes for my future.
So I can be an anchor for you, but only if you know when to let go.
The shadows of my past weigh heavier than the hopes for my future.
So I can be an anchor for you, but only if you know when to let go.