Friday, November 03, 2006

This is going to be WoW lore heavy, so you've been warned. I just /gquit the guild I've been with since April. Long story. This was my leaving post.



Another day, another dark conspiracy or madman. It had been this way since you were a kid starting out. You had thought that when you were of age and joined one of the Alliance guilds things would change. How naive you were. After finding Onyxia running the human city of Stormwind, and defeating her, you had thought things would finally get easier. No such luck. The Guild was assigned to defeating the Dark Iron Dwarves and things got really dark. Still, you couldn't stand idly by as the world was engulfed in another war, so you walked again into conflict. This time against the mountain stronghold of Black Rock Depths.

You passed the shattered doors without noticing them, the Dark Iron had long since pulled back into their strongholds within the mountain itself. The hall was clean today, it looks like the truce with Horde was holding and the battles to see who would battle the Dark Iron were stopped, at least for today. Alliances come and go, and you have seen this hall littered with the dead and dying many times and expected nothing less.

As you passed into the main ring of the citadel, you could see that the battle still raged. The eerie red glow of the magma made the various races seem surreal. Guilds assigned to fighting the Dark Iron passed you, focused on their own goals. The Injured were being tended to, and dead were being stripped of armor and weapons, before being tossed into the magma far below.

As you walked onward you came upon one of the Alliance IronForge Dwarves, sitting on a rock near the giant chains that act as bridges to the forges below. Although not unusual, you felt drawn to the Alliance Dwarf. As you got close you could see his chain mail alternated between being fused together and covered with blood. His axe lay next to him upon the rock he was sitting on. He seemed lost in thought, but his head snapped up as you approached.

He stood slowly. The sound of his armor grinding together made you wonder how he could move. The battle must have been vicious to fuse the metal like that. In a single movement he was standing, axe in hand, and moving toward you. As he got closer you could see giant slash marks across his chest. They looked like claw marks. He slowly secured his axe, and took his helm off.

It was his eyes that caught your attention. While the rest of him looked scarred, almost charred really, his green eyes showed more sorrow than any creature should have to endure. Even with that sadness was a strength, a resolve, to do something. You could feel it radiating from him as he approached.

When he was close enough, he clasped your hands. His grip was firm, but you knew that he would let you go if you moved away. His hands were wet ��� and you knew that feeling. You shuddered, quickly thinking about how you were going to clean his blood off your hands. His dark red beard was tangled with things you didn't want to know about. His head, shaven, was splattered with blood or rust, you couldn't be sure which. As he turned his head to look into your eyes you could see that his face was dark, not from the dirt that covered it, but from some sadness within, and as he spoke you could only feel the dread of his words.

"In da end friend, it wasn't da steel dat let us down. It wasn't too many enemies, or not enough friends. In the end, we lost faith." As he finished, he looked down at where he held your hands and let go. "I lost faith."

He put his helmet on and moved off into the crowd. You couldn't help but look down at your wet hands, expecting them blood stained from the Dwarf. Instead, you saw a pristine white fabric. Your shock instantly turned to curiosity as you unfurled the perfectly kept item. What could have survived the Dwarf's battle and not be torn or covered in blood? As you held it up, you recognized the shape, it was his Alliance Guild tabard. You quickly turned and looked for him to return it, to ask why, but he was gone. You handed the tabard to one of the many couriers and continued onward to catch up with your Guild to prepare for battle.

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