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Dijang Pawswift
The bustle of Orgrimmar was not something Dijang Pawswift was used to. Where he came from, the air was open and clear. In this city, pollution from the Goblin slums and the Horde’s war machine hung thick in every area. No matter where he went, he could smell the stink of oil and hear the loud work of Garrosh’s army. Even in the Valley of Wisdom among the peaceful Tauren, one could find remnants of these aspects.

Dijang walked along one of the main roads in the Valley of Strength where vendors peddled their wares and many passersby sped past Dijang in an attempt to rush to their next destination. Dijang simply didn’t understand the desire to rush anywhere. Sure, he understood the Horde were at war, but he was also confident many people were running small tasks in comparison to the bigger picture. The nature of this society was still quite new to him and he wondered if he’d ever get used to it.
He could feel his throat dry and the dust that mixed with the hot air of this city didn’t help. He could’ve gone for a drink! Stopping in his tracks, he looked about for a nearby Inn or bar. Something smacked into his large, Pandaren frame as he halted.

“Hey, man!” Called a Goblin’s voice.

Dijang looked behind him and down to find a male Goblin on his knees, picking up what appeared to be various nuts and bolts.

“Watch where you’re goin’, bear-man!” The Goblin yelled before rushing off with his findings.

Dijang sighed and merely shrugged, not bothering to tell the Goblin it wasn’t himself who should have been watching where he was going. He had spotted what appeared to be a bar a short distance up the road and made his way there.

Stepping inside, Dijang saw the bar appeared dingy and dark. There were a few tables and the main bar. A female Orc worked behind the bar and one of the guardians of this city sat hunched over a drink in a corner. What were the guards called again? Kron? Kriken? Dijang couldn’t remember. He approached the bar and sat on one of the worn leather stools.

“I’ll have one of your finest ales!” He said to the Orc woman, probably
much louder than he should. A good beer made a Pandaren happy, no matter where they came from.

The Orc woman looked not at all pleased by his tone. She reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle, handing it to the Pandaren. She immediately turned and walked away.

Dijang grabbed the bottle in his paw and popped off the lid. He tipped it back, anxious to feel the cool and fizzy drink slide down his throat. What he got instead was a semi-flat and warm liquid protruding into his senses. He quickly set the bottle down, making a face as he did so. This was nasty! What kind of a bar served this mix of sludge to its patrons? Back in Pandaria, Dijang knew he would not have been treated this way! He could have a refreshing mug of beer and at a good cost. This concoction he drank now wasn’t worth one copper as far as he was concerned.

“Excuse me, miss.” He said, getting the bar keeps attention. “This beer is the nastiest drink I’ve ever had. And I’ve had some bad beer in my day.”

The Orc still said no words. She merely rolled her eyes and reached under the counter again. She produced another bottle, but only after Dijang heard some rummaging around. She placed it on the counter before the Pandaren and once more walked away.

Dijang put his free paw on this bottle and was relieved to feel the coolness of the glass. At least this one wasn’t room temperature. Sliding the gross drink away from him, Dijang popped the lid off the new bottle and tilted it back. Compared to the first drink, this one was a million times better. Dijang set down the bottle letting out an “Aaahhhh” as he did so.

“Much better, bartender!” He called, “Now if only you’d smile, I would leave a generous tip!”

The bartender didn’t smile, nor did she say anything. She merely glared at him.

Looking around the bar, Dijang noticed the guardian Orc in the corner was also glaring at him. Geeze, was everyone around here hostile? Did no one understand the virtue of patience? Deciding it was best to remain quiet from now on, Dijang slumped his shoulders over his beer and drank slowly. He stared down into the scratched and worn wood of the bar noticing the various etches made by daggers knives over the years. This place had probably seen a lot of bar fights, that was for sure.

Dijang didn’t look up from his drink again until the noise of someone sitting down a few seats over got his attention. A troll had taken up residence on one of the stools as well. His large, wiry frame and almost didn’t look strong enough to carry all the plate armor on his body. Dijang couldn’t help but notice the bright red hair in contrast to the dark armor.

The troll smacked his hand on the bar and the bartender wordlessly handed him a beer. The same kind Dijang was drinking.

“T’anks, Mina!” The troll commented, “Ya know how Ah like ‘em.”

Dijang had heard the trolls talk, but it was still harder for him to understand their words sometimes.

“Her name is Mina?” Dijang suddenly spoke up, referring to the bartender.

The troll looked over at him.

“Yeah,” He replied, “But she don’ exactly tell anyone.”

Dijang nodded, “I can see that.”

There was a moment of silence as the troll tipped his drink back and nearly drank it all in one gulp.

“So,” The troll began, “Who do ya hang wit’?”

“Excuse me?” Dijang asked.

“Ya know.” The troll said, “Like…who ya fight wit’? No offence, but ya lookin’ like a lon’ah.”

“Oh!” Dijang chuckled slightly, “Still haven’t found a place to really call my own. I’ve been fighting all around Azeroth. Wherever they need me, mostly. How about you?”

The troll grinned.

“Been fightin’ in Pandaria fo’ah de last few mont’s. My Tribe always
recruitin’ strong folks such as you.”

Dijang raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that is a nice invitation. But I don’t know if I’ll fit in. The Horde is still a new concept to me.”

The troll shook his head, “We got people from all walks a’ life. Ya wouldn’ be any weird’ah o’ah different dan de othas.”

“So…you just go ask whoever to join up with your Tribe?” Dijang asked.

“Iffin’ dey look da part.” The troll stated, “Name’s Melik’ah by de way. Darkspe’ah turned Zandalari at ya service.”

Dijang’s eyes widened slightly.

“The Zandalari.” He said, “Aren’t they the ones overrunning Pandaria?”

“Ah said Ah was Darkspe’ah turned.” Melikar stated, “Meanin’ Ah was born to a Zandalari tribe. Me fatha was Zandalri too. But when dey turned dere back on da world, we didn’t go wit’ ‘em. May as well be Darkspe’ah, he an’ Ah.”

Dijang nodded, “Well,” he said, “My name is Dijang Pawswift. But you can call me DJ or Di for short. I don’t mind either way.”

He stuck his paw out and Melikar’s three-fingered hand met his.

“So tell me more about this tribe.” Dijang said, “Why should I join you and not someone else?”

“We like family.” Melikar said, “We always lookin’ out fo’ah each otha. An’ we put da tribe befo’ah ou’ahselves. Ah been lookin’ aroun’ da cities fo’ah anyone else who wantin’ ta join da fight. Somet’in’ abou’ ya stuck out an’ Ah decided ta try my luck.”

Dijang grinned, “Well, thanks for considering me. I hope your tribe is not one that takes pride on acts of foul or makes fight battles I don’t want to.”

“Ya never gotta do what ya don’ wanna do.” Melikar said, “Ya can come back to da guild hall, check it out, an’ see iffin’ it works for ya.”

Dijang took another long swig of beer. It would be nice to have a group to fit in with. Many of his kind had already found new allies and friends here. Perhaps they weren’t all cold and distant like many he’d met already.

“Alright.” Dijang said, “Take me to this hall. I would like to meet the others. If they’re anything like you, I just might enjoy myself.” He ended the sentence with a grin and Melikar smiled as well.

The troll dropped some gold on the counter and nodded to the door.

“Come wit’ me.” He said, “We headin’ to da Barrens. Den, ya can meet everyone.”

Dijang followed the troll out of the bar and back onto the bustling streets of Orgrimmar. He was not sure what this journey would entail, but he knew he needed allies to back him up when times got rough. He’d had a few friends who had left the great island before he did. It wasn’t until recently that he started his own journey. He hadn’t even had a chance to go to his native homeland of Pandaria yet.

He just hoped he was making the right decision.
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