((Well I have been ABSOLUTELY unable to get online until just recently (thanks to my fiance), and even after I got the internet it took me a while to work through some bugs on my notebook. Right now I'm barely making enough to pay the rent, cover my medication and pay the internet so WoW is out of the question (fiance buys the food so no I'm not starving poor).
Today I finally got around to making a trial account just to check in and see how Ravenholdt is doing, and I was shocked at how few people there were! I THINK I saw someone whose name looked familiar, but they didn't engage me possibly because I went under another name. What happened around here I must know!!!
Well for now please enjoy this small story I wrote just for the occasion.))
The hot Durotar wind felt good on the Shaman's face after so many years of self-imposed exile. The time he had spent hiding in that shattered illusion of Draenor had allowed him to build a stable, but quiet life with his family. His days were filled hunting Talbuk with Luuhk or harvesting grain heads to make flour for bread, but when the fires grew low in the dark of night he would look to the sky and gaze longingly at Azeroth. The title he had attempted to uphold and unwittingly betrayed still resounded in his mind, so that with every beat of his heart he could almost hear it again: Warbringer.
“It's good ta be back,” Chander sighed as the wyvern lifted off from Razor Hill. He watched the passing landscape with nostalgic smile, but his heart stopped with joy when he saw the distinctive spire just to the right of Orgrimmar's front gate. “I wonder if anyone'll be stayin' at the Bloodfury den, or if they're on deployment somewhere?”
Moments later he was passing over the city wall but within seconds his good mood vanished, and Chander felt his stomach do a sickening flop. Where was everybody?! The once bustling streets were nearly bare save for the usual guards, and a handful of Horde going about their personal business. Keeping his head on a swivel he boarded a lift into the Valley of Strength, and began searching for even one familiar face.
Taking his time the shaman strode around the entire city, but to his dismay he only found one person that looked vaguely familiar. She sat upon a glorious drake the likes of which he was unfamiliar, and something in the back of his mind whispered that she may have even been one of his clan. He saw no tabard on her chest but taking a deep breath he approached, “You look familiar.”
He could not distinguish the look she gave him, however her silence spoke volumes to him. He had changed over the years, and since his clan had supported Garrosh before Vol'jin took over he was afraid to use his real identity. The Orcess did not utter a single word so at last he sighed, “Guess I was wrong. Aka'magosh!” He used this phrase in hopes that perhaps she would indeed recognize him, but instead her drake's wings spread and she took off.
Taking the passage behind Valley of Wisdom to reach the spot where he had begun Chander passed a doomsday fanatic screaming about the world coming to an end. He was tempted to beat the worthless fool right where he stood, but the disappointment was weighing him down so heavily that he simply addressed the man in a weary tone. “Yeah I heard all that back when Deathwing came around, so why doncha shut it?”
It was so disenchanting to realize that all of his deeds had been forgotten, because none remained who could tell of them. Where was his clan? Considering how empty the city looked he doubted that anyone would be in the den, so it was unlikely that turning up there would lead to getting decapitated by Stonzgrinda. Even so such a fate would be preferable to never knowing the fate of those he still loved, so with a prayer to the ancestors he left Orgrimmar and headed for the den.
It was a short walk, but the entire way he could feel his heart racing as it hadn't in years. Would he be welcomed by those he had once called family? He recalled the fateful choice which had led him to choose a life of exile, and knew in his heart that if faced with the same decision again he would have done nothing different. Stonzgrinda had been his best friend, and as his second in command only Chander had any right to challenge his views. Indeed that was the duty of any second ranking officer in any clan, but when he failed to help his friend see that the troops needed more from him the cost was his honour. He never meant to drive a wedge in the clan but as more Orcs came to him with their concerns, and he failed to make his leader see the validity of those issues he found himself faced with an impossible decision. They had been begging him to challenge Stonzgrinda, but when he finally did so his voice was the only one drifting on the winds of change. Standing alone with his convictions Chander took his family and left the clan in hopes that Stonzgrinda would see the light on his own.
When he reached the spire's entrance he noticed a couple of the Horde's conscripted peons doing work, but looking up the stairs he couldn't hear any sounds coming from above. Slowly ascending the metal steps his throat tightened, and on the last landing he took a deep breath preparing to shout a greeting. “Lok'...” He stopped for the room was bare.
For several seconds all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and when he took a step towards the window his heavy footfall sounded like an intrusion. Still listening to himself breathe he gripped the window ledge, and allowed a single tear to fall unchecked onto the dark metal frame. “Stonzgrinda...” he whispered. “Torgal... Kil'gora... HANABII!!!” He sobbed falling to his knees.
All of them were gone and nothing remained of the life he once knew. He was certain that the Warmistress was enjoying a quiet existence similar to his own, but all of the others could be anywhere in time or space (such as the world seemed to work these days). There was so much dust around the room, but perhaps his clan was too busy doing important things to think about sweeping the floor? It was possible that both the city and den would come alive after darkness had fallen, which considering the midsummer's heat was a reasonable explanation for everyone's absence. He could not flat out admit that they were lost until he had proof.
Getting to his knees Chander looked around the room through bleary eyes, “We used ta build fires an' tell tales of glorious conquests right over there. An' that's where I used ta sleep.” Crawling over to the bare patch of floor Chander curled up into a tight ball on his side, and recalled how his late sister had requested this place as the new den after theirs had been destroyed in the Cataclysm. Life wrought so many unpredictable changes but at least he wasn't expected back for a couple of days, so even if it wasn't what he remembered the weary shaman could still say that he had come home. With tears still streaming through his closed lids the former Warbringer whispered two words as a sombre slumber claimed him, “For Bloodfury.”