The Last Breath
High noon was well past and all the residents of Thunder Bluff were finishing their supper, tending to their last chores and preparing for bed. His tent was set up on the edge of the Spirits Rise, before which his Shado-pan saber was sleeping calmly. He slowly opened the curtains to check whether his daughter was sleeping, and she wasn’t. Instead she was in her bed, playing around with one of the Totems – by the looks of it the water one – since it had a peculiar vial hung around it. Neptulon the Tidehunter himself gifted him the vial when they cleansed the water surrounding the Throne of Tides, and by doing so, defeating the mythical sea monster Ozumat. And even though you could hear his hooves from outside, he approached her with a tender smile, and with soft but precise move took the totem away. “These are not toys Olisa, you know that-” he warned her with quite a soothing tone. “I know papa, I was just asking the water friends for some rain, the soil of my Heartblossoms is pretty dry.” She is a quick learner he thought, and he wasn’t wrong. With a deep tone, as he usually sounds, he wished her a good night, patted her furry tauren head and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Papa, will you tell me a story” she pleaded, with her beautiful green eyes he could never resist.
“Which one do you-” he couldn’t even finish when she sprung up in the blink of an eye, clapped her hands, hoping a bit on the bed “The Wind one! The Wind one papa!” A joyful chuckle came out, since he knew that story was her favorite. “It’s the Al’Akir story you want my heart and the Al’Akir story you shall get. Your wish is my command.” Tucking her in bed, again, he pulled up a stool, sat beside her holding her small hand and started
“…it was not long after you were born, Thr-, uncle Go’el told me that some of the there is a great unease amongst the elements, quite startled, because of someone or something, and asked me to investigate. Storms were brewing all around Azeroth, and violent ones too. A group of friends and I were chosen to seek out the King of the Air elementals, the Lord of Winds, to see why he wasn’t in the Elemental Plane anymore and why he wanted to unravel the peaceful harmony. We traveled through jungles, we crossed deserts, we made friends and foes alike until we reached his domain, the ‘Skywall’. There was his fortress, above the sun, invisible from the ground. It was made from thick stone walls, fashioned in rock stolen from the earth below, hanging suspended by permanent cyclones in the shape of pillars. It was a stunning sight, a feast in the eyes of a wanderer, marvelous in all of its glory. With the help of our sturdy mounts, we got there, only to be welcomed by constant swirling of strong winds and lightning. The hosts were the Windlord’s court or ‘Conclave of Wind’, the three Dijnn of the West, East and North winds. Sadly, they were not interested in any propositions we made, they forced our hand. Everyone with different strengths and weaknesses, they all fell beneath our wit and might. The platforms now empty, they provided a much needed respite for what was about to come.
At first we only saw whirling cyclone, with flickers of lightning dancing around it, then we realized it was more than just a rapid windstorm, it was Al’Akir. Since I was the leading shaman, I stepped forward to try and reason with the Lord, but to no avail, his allegiance was with the mad dragon Deathwing.” Emphasizing it so he would add tension to the story. Olisa now hold her blanket tightly up to her nose, listening carefully “-his battle garments were majestic, purple and bright copper, adorned with few sapphires, and an enormous one on his sword. And even though the winds alone were enough to push us away, persistent as ever, we battled on. When the time was dire he called upon his loyal lightning and air subjects to aid him, but their attacks didn’t even dent our composure. In the end he was so outraged that he smashed the platform, and threw us in the air. With the help of tricks and spells of all sorts, arcane, elemental, mechanical, we were all afloat, bashing head to head with him. It was intense, this time around, in the area surrounding him, from the bottom and top formed lightning clouds. They proved to deadly for anyone as we saw one comrade fall, and worryingly enough, they moved slowly toward the middle where we were all stacked. Hearts started pumping hard and fast, loud battle-shouts were called and prayers of all sorts. The lightning was almost upon us, almost cracked us to our demise, sweat and tears were poured in the last effort to cast the last spells, the hit the last swing, the call the last incantations to vanquish him. And just as an ark was about to hit my hoof, they disappeared as fast they appeared, along with him. The Windlord was no more, ceased to be and it was a relief for everyone that day. His dispersed in thin air, only leaving an immense dark sapphire floating about, holding treasure never seen before as we found out later on. No more rampaging storms were going to cause harm to the good people of Azeroth, and thanking each and every champion that day, no matter their faction, race or beliefs, we were all proud of the collective effort it took to save our precious planet. The, end.” Although her tiny horns hadn’t started growing yet, he could see them poking under the bed cover. Steadily she uncovered herself with a face full of relief. “Next time child, be careful what you wish for.” Snorting with joy he tucked her once more “-now go to sleep.”
A draft of air slightly blew the bottom of the curtains, to which Honon’s ears flickered. It sounded like a great Dragonhawk landing nearby, and a brief moment later, a young Blood-elf approached. The saber with a quiet growl stood up, but Honon was there to sooth it with just few words. It collapsed on the ground and continued sleeping. “How may I be of your assistance, young master elf-” Honon asked, giving a slight bow as well. “Ar-are you ma-master Ho-” he stammered, out of exhaustion more so than inability to converse. “Calm yourself, take few deep breaths, breath through your nose-” he advised him. The Blood Elf followed suit, and straightened his back in a moment’s notice and continued. “Are you Honon, the Tranquil Master?” Nodding, he let him finish “-good. You have an urgent message from…your friends.” Puzzled, he raised a brow. The messenger handed him a small missive, wrapped in a red cotton and sealed so it would prove its authenticity. Breaking the seal, he opened and started reading through it, uttering some of the more shocking words aloud. When he finished, he wrapped it again and asked “-it was from…them? Personally?” Confirming it with an sympathetic look, the Elf added “-and you need to get ready as soon as possible.” A long sigh came, and it wasn’t from disdain, no, it was from weariness. From his age that slowly crept on him. He jerked his head a little when he noticed the two small fury hand clasping his.
“Papa, you promised you’d stay with me. Please don’t go-” all teared up. Now hugging his leg as tightly as she could. He was wondering how she overheard even the quietest of word that barely came out of his mouth. “Olisa, listen to me. Uncle Go’el needs me, and Chieftain Bain, and that weird looking friend of mine Vol’jin as well. They all need me. I promise, this is the very last time, and I vow to take you to the farm south farm when I’m done.” She let go and hastily ran to her bed. Apologizing to the Elf, he followed her inside where he found her crying into the pillow. Slowly he turned her and gave her a big bear hug.
“Papa, I don’t want to lose you. You’re my favorite person in the world and I can’t bear to lose you.” He wiped away few of her tears and looked her straight into her eyes “…never again will this happen my heart! I will be beside you until the end of days” his own eyes tearing up as well “and even more years after that. This is the very last time.” Now it was her turn to wipe his tears “-please, just be careful!” Another hug and kiss later, and he was outside. It was a cold night and a chilly wind blew, especially on the towering mesas that Thunder Bluff was build on.
“Please give me just few more moments to pay my respects to Earth Mother before we depart.”
There was an improvised shrine near his tent, where a small tree was growing surrounded by four little wooden sticks, all with different colors representing the elements of fire, water, earth and air. Taking a knee, putting his palm on the ground, he muttered few prayers, asking the Earth Mother to keep both him and his daughter safe, and everyone that he will accompany him that night. Touching every stick softly, asking every element to muster all the help they can land him in the troubled times ahead. It only took him a minute or two to finish his ritual, though it seemed like hours. His thoughts drifted every time he communicated with either the elements or the Earth Mother, and every time he enjoyed every second of it.
“I am ready whenever you are master Elf” he exclaimed before he came into view. Patting his saber goodbye, Honon asked him to guard over the tent while he was away. Despite the beast being asleep, it curled up a smile. “Good boy. Now let us-” he was interrupted, not with words, but by something that he least expected. Showing his hand, the elf handed him a necklace and a small parchment with something written on it. “The little girl gave me this-” he said, mounting his Dragonhawk. It was her necklace, a thick red woven line, ending with a thread around a green coin with a face of a tiger looking serene. It was from her…parents. He glanced at the note and it said ‘I love you papa.’ His hair raised, and a shiver went down his spine, and towards his hands and the rest of his body. He took few deep breaths to contain himself. Powerful emotions were flowing through him, that made him a bit light-headed. Putting on Olisas crown jewel, then stowing away the parchment in his bag, he was ready. He took out his Pandaren Kite and asked the elements of wind to guide his string and keep him aloft. He hoped on and started flying. The Drgonhawk rider was in total awe. He could never picture such a massive creature like a tauren standing on a kite without breaking it, let alone riding one. Never the less he shook his head and off they went.
Their route was clear, straight from Mulgore to the gate of Orgrrimar. Honon saw the Blood-Elf shaking so he asked the elements to warm his heart, his body, since he is doing a good deed to a friend of theirs. He on the other hand had no problem since both his fur and battle regalia kept him quite warm. Mother Moon was quite high in the sky at this time, which told him it was around midnight, as they passed the prominent Southfury River. He could see a faint light coming from the gates. It didn’t seem like the normal braziers that would light the entrance of the orc capital. When they neared, he beheld the grotesque sight of war. Bodies filled the streets, being both Horde and Alliance, and those of the ‘True Horde, the Orcish Horde’ – Garrosh’s army. He landed fast, not wanting to waste any more time than it is needed to, and was greeted by three solemn faces, mainly those of Lady Sylvanas, Region-Lord Lor’themar and the leader of the Sunreavers, Archmage Aethas. They greeted him accordingly, and likewise he did so too.
“We’ve brought the fight to Garrosh, Honon, they are before his chamber. Latest reports say that his Generals Nazgrim and Malkrok were defeated, and what’s left of ours and those of the Alliance forces are on his doorsteps. We needed every single Hero to come, and by the looks of it-” eyeing him from head to toe, “you’re the only one left. I’m going to accompany you to where they took down his pet General, there you’ll find everyone else.” She was always like that, brief and sharp, like a former Range-General should. They blitzed through the streets of the Valley of Strength, which was littered with corpses, took a right through the Drag, and entered the Cleft of Shadows. It began to smell of something foul and putrid, like the rotting of corpses, with blood spattered everywhere on the walls and ground. For a moment he felt mortified that he didn’t come sooner to prevent so many deaths, but alas, he took an oath to live out a peaceful life with his calf. Nonetheless, they continued down the Descent through the Kor’Kron Barracks and into the caves leading to the inner chamber.
“This is where we bid our farewells” announced Sylvanas. “Just head into the main tunnel and you’ll find the others-” saluting one another, they went their separate ways. It was getting damper as he went deeper, and the caves themselves where generating heat, especially from the raging battles. Transforming into a ghost-wolf he quickened his pace, and as soon as he made it through a huge metal door and made the first corner he found a someone. Someone he couldn’t believe was here, whether someone was playing him for a fool or not, he was delighted. A legendary orc by the name of Varok Saurfang, a general of the highest ranking a soldier could ever achieve. Before he could greet the Overlord, Varok spoke.
“Ah, one of Vol’jin’s revolutionaries.” A few mantid bodies around him lay dead and his was visibly injured, blood was gashing beneath his armor. “Have you seen Thrall? I am badly hurt and he insisted on going ahead alone.” Coughing made his pain worse and Honon shifted forms and ran towards him for help but he gestured him to stop. “Tell me, how goes the battle up above? What of Nazgrim? Speak to me!” Saurfang didn’t let him start since he already knew the answer. “Ah, Nazgrim. A great leader and a fine warrior. He valued his oath to the Warchief more than his life. I tried to tell him…to tell him that Hellscream betrayed us, cast aside a Warchief’s responsibility to his own people. But Nazgrim…too loyal…to proud.” Shaking his fist “-damn Hellscream, his ambition tore our Horde apart. Go on, find Thrall. Finish this once and for all, I’ll live.” He then proceeded to pull out his war-axe buried in one of the corpses, and walking out. Honon thought of him as overly-brave, though it came with respect since he was one of few living creatures on Azeroth that was involved in Three Wars and still lived, plus leading the Horde armies in both Ahn’Qiraj and Northrend.
He reverted back to wolf form so he could near the party, knowing Thrall was nearby. Before he entered he saw many dead and many dying and even more so fighting against the mantid. This puzzled him, why would the mantid fight alongside Garrosh when they have so many revered champions for all races? ‘The nine surviving Klaxxi’va Paragons were champions of the mantid, I fought alongside many of them against the madness of Empress Shek’zeer. Why are they-‘ Then it struck him. The heart of Y’Shaarj, the source of the new-found power that Garrosh possesses, or possessed Garrosh. It was to the Old God’s power the paragons, as do all mantid, held a far deeper loyalty. When Garrosh unearthed the heart, the paragons followed the whispers of their ancient master to the iron halls before his royal chamber. This was not good, nor advantageous and he could not stay his hand anymore, he rushed to help out finish them off. He saw a friendly face amidst all the calamity. A tauren warrior, Sco, an excellent fighter, with his friends Xabok, a lovely Blood-Elf Priestes and Noxe, a fierce orc rogue. They called themselves the Methodists, they carried out the job where rarely anyone could.
It was a dire fight, most of them heavily injured, lying on the sides of the great hall, and only Skeer the Bloodseeker and Rik’kal the Dissector were alive. They put up a good fight, though it wasn’t enough, the Methodists overwhelmed them after a long and tiresome fight, with the help of Thrall.
“Thrall?” he murmured as he saw his friend charge straight ahead. “Wait for us!” Honon yelled, beckoning Sco’s group to follow. They ran as fast as they could , though some of them with healing powers stayed behind to help the injured. Shortly after they arrived on a balcony. The saw Thrall confronting Garrosh, who was seating in his throne. It was a massive room with gates on both sides between his high seat, and mechanical parts clicking along the side walls. The edges of the floor were pits with raging fire only covered by thick metal grids, making sure everyone they watched their step. They came just in time to see the violent clash.
“It is not to late Garrosh. Lay down the mantle of Warchief. We can end this here, with no more bloodshed.” Suggested Go’el, unflustered and calm, though that option was far less rigorous then everyone wanted and far too little for what the current Warchief deserved.
“Ha! Do you remember nothing of honor? Of glory on the battlefield? You, who would parley with the humans, who allowed warlocks to practice their dark magics right under our feet. You are weak!” Stepping up, and swelling his chest with pride he continued “-we are the Orcish Horde, the True Horde. We die, bloody and thrashing on the field of battle, like true orc should! You are an orc no longer, and speak for none but yourself. You betrayed your people to forge your fragile alliances, and I will take great pleasure in tearing them apart.”
Shifting slightly, Thrall understood the situation perfectly. “Then you have forced my hand. I will correct the mistake I made long ago. Spirits of the wind, the water and earth, hear my call! Come to my aid!” Cackling menacingly, Garrosh thought he lured him into a trap by detaining him in the grip of a shadowy prison.
“Fool! My Dark Shaman have twisted and tortured the elements for miles around. They cannot hear you now. Once again you prove too weak and powerless to do anything.” He was wrong. A Thunderstorm emitted from Thralls body, dispersing the shackles around his body. Now, with a determined look he replied.
“Never powerless Garrosh! Never alone!” Walking down the steps, wielding Xal’atoh, a distorted version of Gorehowl, engulfed with terrible powers of Y’Shaarj, he pointed it towards his enemy, and growled.
“So…you want to face off against a real Orc Warchief? So be it.”
‘No…’ thought Honon and started running down the stairs towards the arena, followed by every other champion that were with him. The loud noises from weapons parrying sounded louder than all of the rattling of armor and weapon and the numerous stomps combined. When they came they saw Thrall on the ground, he hurried to him and tried to pick him up while everyone else was preparing for the upcoming battle. “Thrall-” he uttered.
“Go…do it! For her!” He helped him to the balcony where it was safe. On the way down he opened up his bag and took a handful of elixirs and potions, handing different colored ones to as much heroes as he could. Once he was done, Sco nodded to everyone and charged in. Unsheathing his hammers, he strode with fierce might, one glowing with lightning, the other will molten fury.
“I, Garrosh, son of Grom, will show you what it mean to be Hellscream-” yelled he, as he took blow after blow, deflecting arrows and spells, swinging his axe wildly. “Anger, hatred, fear, they are weapons of war. The tools of a Warchief!” They pressed the assault harder and harder. At one point, a pair of engineers appeared on the sides, one of the more experienced hunters shot just one arrow, a well aimed one, that stuck directly into the orc’s neck. He fell down into the pits and burned to crisps. In a moment’s notice a Kor’kron Iron Star rolled across the room to the opposite wall, catching a human mage who did not move in time. It collided with wall and exploded heating up the room significantly. Kor’kron Warbringer’s also joined the fight, many of whom fell even before they reached the heroes, either frozen by hunter or mage traps or gnawed on by some of the pet beasts. “Yes…yes I can see now…I can see the future of this world ruled by the Horde… my Horde!” he prided himself. “Your ‘Horde’ is no more tyrant, you will die today!” Shouted back a Dwarf paladin, in the recognizable Judgment armor. No one even noticed the heart dangling on the chains high up in the room, not before its beats could be heard clearly. It pumped so hard, dark tendrils spread fast and pulled everyone in the room in, including Garrosh. Everyone found themselves in a familiar place. A colorful place with green, gold and red walls, doors and roofs. It could only be the Temple of the Jade Serpent, the August Celestials, Yu’lon. They fell to the ground and quickly started running towards the main hall, where the Warchief was harvesting the power from the Y’shaarj. They took down the spawned Sha manifestation as fast as possible all while running to the temple balcony, the Heart of Jade. “The old One calls to you…heroes!”
“Strike fast and strike true champions, do not let up!” It wasn’t a shout and it was very deafening, louder than the battle itself ‘-It’s Go’el…he is with us’ he tought. Shorty after his channeling was interrupted, the champions were back in Orgrimmar. “The heart will be your end. See the visions of fear, despair and doubt as I have.” Not long after, the heart sucked them in once more, this time being the open Terrace of Endless Spring. The realm of sheer bliss and serenity, an important sanctuary of Pandaria, blooming in peace for many years, now transcended into a prison enveloped in horrible force that were the Titans Heart. Same as last time, Garrosh tried to harness the power, and the heroes were trying to stop him. A group stayed behind to deal with the Sha and the rest just sprinted through. This time around though, when he finished his channel screamed on top of his lungs, a bellowing growl that pierced everyone’s ears “-the true horde will come to pass, I have seen it…it has shown me. I have seen mountains of skulls and rivers of blood, and I…WILL…HAVE…MY…WORLD!” In the blink of an eye they were back again under Orgrimmar, and Garrosh looked more monstrous than ever before. The evil energies, the Heart, completely overcame him. Bigger, stronger, illuminated with the purple raw power of the Titans, evil eyes everywhere on his body, tendrils whirling around.
Though the new power gave him unimaginable power, his body couldn’t sustain it all at once. The end was so close, closer than it had ever been, he could sense it. His movement was getting sloppy, Xal’atoh started missing its target. And the steady riot that was building up erupted, and rarely did Honon feel this way, he was so lost in the battle-lust, he blinked blood out of his eyes, his voice was hoarse from all the screaming. Now was the time to call the aid of every last element, even the spirits of his ancestors, to came to fight beside him. A glistening joy overcame him that a spectral echo of pure harmony resonated throughout the room. Ascending into pure Elemental form, he floated slightly above the ground, his body was transcended and his weapons were pure storm. And when his strikes landed, sparks flew everywhere. Even two ghost wolves appeared beside him, leaped just on the Warchiefs back and started biting and clawing. It was almost done, everyone pressed on until it was finally done. Garrosh took a knee, than out of exhaustion fell down, his axe flying next to him. The pure energy was no gone, his body was inhumanly shrunk down to the original size and all the vile power escaped back into the heart. The image was getting blurry and dark, his hands and feet were getting lighter – Honon blacked out.
Seeing only Thralls face over his when he finally regained consciousness “-it is over my friend, you have my thanks, and those of all the free people in Azeroth!” Cheering and victorious screaming was the one of many things that he could hear in that very moment. Standing up and trying to balance himself, Honon embraced Go’el. “This is the last time I make you do this, I owe that much to you-“
“-you owe it to her.” He reminded him. A couple of Trolls and a Blood Elf helped him get up. The dizziness was still present, but at least he could keep his balance. Both of the shamans were very proud of everyone that was in that room. For a moment Honon started chanting and dancing with everyone else, but Go’el took few steps and his shadow overcast his fallen nemesis.
“You disappoint me Garrosh-” taking Doomhammer above his head, readying it for one final blow. “You are not worthy of your father’s legacy.” And he went for the strike, just to be blocked by a sword. And not any sword, but Shalamayne, Wrynn’s sword. “His punishment it not for you alone to decide!” exclamied the scar-faced King of Stormwind. Meeting eye to eye, Thrall barked back. “I’m not letting you take him!”
“We have all suffered from his atrocities-” came a soothing voice. A pandaren voice. Taran Zhu’s voice. He was the master of the elite order of the Shado-pan, protectors of Pandaria. Even though he was wounded not so long ago, he came to imprison his people’s second Tyrant. “My people, more than any other. Let him stand trial in Pandaria. There, we will meet out justice for all.” Both Varian and Go’el nodding and backing away. Garrosh was shackled rather fast, and he taken out of everyone’s sight. Thrall retreated to the Horde leaders, all of whom managed to come quickly after the battle was done. The leader of the trolls, Vol’jin, suggested, in typical troll accent “-the Horde needs its true Warchief, now more than ever.”
“Yes-” turning to face them all now, but sticking his gaze on shadow hunter. “But it was you who kept the Horde together during this madness. It was you who protected our honor. From this day forward, Vol’jin – if you lead-” kneeling with respect “-I follow.”
He searched for words to say but he couldn’t. “I-I…am not worthy.” Following Go’el, every leader saluted him, even Sylvanas. And Gallywix, who took down his top hat. Seeing them all Vol’jin confidently replied “-but I will give my all!”
With his fist on his chest, he saluted them all. “For the Horde.”
“Ugh…look at them. Already they plot against us-” said Jaina, the mage from Theramore. Both Homon and Thrall heard that. He wanted to step forward and confront her, but Go’el took him by his arm, dismissing his notion without even sparing him a look.
“Seize this moment, Varian. Dismantle…the Horde.”
“Guardsmen!” Ordered the King, sounding every Alliance member to assume battle stance, then strode purposefully towards the Horde members.
“Father – what are you doing?” Asked the young prince Anduin, and Varion shot him back “-what a king must do!”
“I will speak to your Warchief” demaded Goldrinn’s champion. Tension was rising and all Horde member dispersed, revealing just Thrall standing next to Vol’jin. “I speak for the Horde!” Not knowing whether this was a trick or not he eyed them both for a moment “-very well.” The Horde has committed heinous crimes, Vol’jin-” then struck his sword before his feet and walked forward, a small distance before the new Warchief. As he came close, Vol’jin straightened up revealing his true height. “But some among you fought against Garrosh’s tyranny. For that, I am willing to end this bloodshed. But know this…” turning back to his sword and walking away “…if your Horde fails to uphold honor, as Garrosh did-” picking up Shalamayne and rolling only his head back “-we…will end you!” After ordering everyone that was Alliance to follow him, there was a collective sigh of relief that there wasn’t going to be any more fighting.
After all the pleasantries, Honon went outside, even though he was offered, on many occasions, a portal to any city. He strolled down to the Valley of Wisdom, where his people were settled in the Orc’s capital. The rose-pink light of dawn started to shine and created some spectacular colors on the nearby waterfall. He stood just before the bridge, where the life in the little pond was waking up, all while sinking in all the beauty of the culture, the mesmerizing tapestry and taurenesk totems scattered around.
“You know,” someone double-tapped his shoulder. “I remember the day the Cataclysm struck this city. We were standing outside my Fortress when the rifts opened, and the elementals started burning the city. You rushed to save as many trapped civilians, and I to help calm the fires. At the end, when we met to report the casualties, I saw you tearing up, speechless as you cradled the young calf. You blamed yourself for not saving her parents, saying you couldn’t hold their house from colapsing, so you took her under your wing.” Forcing the Tauren to turn and meet his eyes, Go’el continued “-and come to think of it, she was your savior, more so that you are hers. You found purpose in your life, a friend of times, someone who will help you created new adventures. You have earned a well deserved rest. Go now, you shall be hearing from me and Aggra soon.” Embracing one another, and enjoying the moment as much as possible, knowing both of them had to go separate ways.
“Send my warmest regards to your family friend Thrall, and spirits be with you.” He took out his heartstone, depicted as very rare objects by many people. Nevertheless he owned one and it was attuned to the village of Bloodhoof. He tapped it once and it started to hum and glow brightly azure, before he was teleported Honon curled up a smile, then close his eyes.
Innkeeper Kauth, a well dressed tauren, was sweeping the floor on the top level, when he heard the incantation finish. “Is it you Honon?” He asked, knowing he was if not the only one who made attunement to his inn. “May the eternal sun shine upon thee.” Acknowledging him with a simple smile, Honon continued outside, morning was in its wake and people were on their feet. Tak, the Wind Rider Master was tending to his mounts, Hulfnar and Thontek were teaching the novice warriors and Harn was casting his fishing pole in the nearby lake. It was not a mistake that he made this village the destination of his heartstone, it was to save time on lazy days. The baker, Jhawna Oatwind, in the village had both good grains, oats and flour and trade secret recipes. He visited her on the first day of every other week to get new ingredients as well as to exchange opinions on dishes and cooking herbs.
He then took the path to Thunder bluff, cross the stunning valley filled with all manner of wildlife, from cougars to wolfs, plainstrides to hawks. Thought the woods were scarce, it was a view to behold in any season of the year. The route took him no longer than ten minutes on a mount, though he preferred the longer walk when the weather was clear. Reaching the lifts he climbed them on, then waited to be transported up, directly in the traders circle, where most of the crafting and trade good vendors were. Few of the guards hailed him, congratulating him on the achievement the previous night ‘I suppose news does travel fast’ he thought. Taking a left, nearing the bridge to the Spirits Rise, he took the wooden bridge slowly. He never liked the bridge, too unsteady for his taste. Leisurely step-by-step, he took his time. Two figures were expecting him, Pawe Mistrunner who took care of Olisa while he was away, and Xanis Flameweaver, an apprentice shaman who was always sleeping before the shamans’ training tent.
“Greetings Honon, you look exhausted. Baine sent Xanis and myself to aid you in any-” he rudely interrupted the her “-apologizes for interjection sweet Pawe, your aid is not need. Just tell me that Oliasa is safe and sound – that will suffice.”
“Of course, she is still resting. You go on right ahead, I shall fetch anything you need-” and he did so. Walking straight to his tent, he noticed not only the morning dew on the petals of the flowers, but also the soil beneath it, which was now watered. It granted him a smile – he wouldn’t be the only one happy about it. His saber started stretching, revealing its fangs and claws, then prancing around restlessly before the porch. Resting his gear near the entrance, he tiptoed to his bedroll, which was next to Olisas. Taking out the necklace, he laid it next to her, so when she woke up, it would be the first thing she saw. He stroke her furry cheeks gently, then laid down on his back.
Battling all night took the power over any soldier, let alone a mature tauren like himself. It took him no longer to fall asleep, than to be woken up again by her. “Papa! Papa!” She yelled in excitement. “You’re back! I prayed to Mother Moon, and-and to Father Sun and-and-” putting a finger on her lip, hushing her instantly “-my heart, it may be morning for you, but it might as well be night for me. Let me rest, then we can finally start our life’s adventure-” giving him a kiss “-alright, papa.” Covering him with her blanket, she walked outside, and Honon only heard a loud awe before he fell asleep.
It was sunset when woke up, and to none other than the smell of a brewing honeymint tea. Straightening up, still sitting in his bed, Olisa noticed him getting up. She rushed to pour a cup. The kettle had some weight to it, so she spilled a bit on her hand while carrying it over, but she didn’t pay it any mind. “Here papa, I picked the mint with Pawe after you snoozed out,” handing him the streaming hot mug. He blew a bit so he wouldn’t burn himself, and grinningly asked “-are you ready my heart? Are you ready to go?” Her pupils dilated and she lost her breath. They were ready to start a new chapter of their lives.
Acknowledgements: I want give credit to the owner of the picture, a Chinese artist from blog.sina.com.cn (that’s what it says). Also, credit to wowhead.com, wowwiki.com and wowpedia.com for some of the details on weaponry/scenery/history etc. and to the few good man on reddit (user/ManLikeChar, user/SirSpawnAlot and user/Malorak) and a friend of mine who is a lore enthusiast as well, for support of making this story. And finally, to the brilliant people at Blizzard Entertainment for making the world of Azeroth as awesome as it is. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. ’till next time.
P.S. I have played wow since vanilla, with few breaks now and then. Currently I’m on the European servers, Cordoso – Draenor is the inspiration to the story. Ironically, he is a goblin due to the racial passive, but when I made this shaman, he was the strong tauren from this very story. My battle tag is matthewtroy#2419 if anyone wants to add me. 🙂