My mother always told me to be careful of what I wished for.
Instead of heeding her advice, I asked for a challenge, and was rewarded with ruin.
The heralds had just trumpeted the news of the great victory in Northrend and the demise of the Lich King. For the citizens of Stormwind and Alliance soldiers everywhere, the news was cause for great celebrations. For me, it brought only bitter disappointment. I was nearly finished with my training at the cathedral and I expected to leave for the front within days. Now, with the war over, I feared that I would be sent home instead to ease the financial burdens the war had imposed. And once home, I would be expected to eventually take over the family business as the eldest son.
Now I get along just fine with my family for the most part. We really have only two points of contention, one being the aforementioned family business. My father is a clothier with a very narrow specialty. Namely, female undergarments. He works nearly every day creating endless varieties of the frilly, lacy, strappy things that the women would giggle over and immediately retire to a private room to try them on (which basically ruined any potential high points of the job in my opinion). He was so successful that even started to branch out into clothing designed for elven, dwarven and even gnomish women. Naturally as the eldest child I was expected to eventually take over this business, yet without the aforementioned perks I couldn't see that as being anything less than a colossal embarassment. This was one of the reasons I eventually stormed out to join the Silver Hand.
The other reason was Verana. She was the daughter of another clothier who, get this, specialized in female OUTERgarments (dresses, blouses, etc.) No I'm not making this up. As soon as my father met her father they determined two things: merging their businesses would make them incredibly wealthy and that a marriage between Verana and I would be a match made in (financial) heaven. My problem with this was that I couldn't stand her. She wasn't ugly by any definition, with a smooth, well-rounded face and ample physical charms (which I had already sampled several times without anyone's knowledge). Unfortunately her beauty was surpassed only by her total lack of anything resembling intelligent thought. She gave a new definition to the word "vapid" and was able to talk for HOURS without saying anything at all. When I told my father he simply told me to bear it, as women weren't kept around for their intelligence anyway. Fortunately my mother wasn't around to hear him say that, otherwise there would have been a scene.
With these two unpleasant futures awaiting me, I retreated to my small room inside the barracks. Once inside, I knelt down and I prayed. I prayed for something to arise to make my years of constant training and drill worth the time spent. I prayed for another great evil to appear so that I could vanquish it. I prayed for something, ANYTHING to free myself from the ignoble fate that waited me.
After that I stood up, turned around, and had not taken two steps before the floor of my cell heaved beneath me. Confused, I stumbled out of my room to the sight of panicked initiates running everywhere and loose pieces of stone and gravel falling from the ceilings. A second violent tremor had me fleeing the building and down the cathedral steps. Once outside, I saw similar scenes of fear and destruction all around me, and the sky had turned crimson. As I was about to question a nearby guardsman, a great roar split the sky like thunder, and I looked up to see a great beast of flame and shadow bring destruction to the city. At the time I had no idea who Deathwing was, nor did I have any idea of the magnitude his coming would change our future forever. But as he settled over the gates of Stormwind, I did know two things:
My prayer had been answered, and it had been wrong.
So very, very wrong.
Instead of heeding her advice, I asked for a challenge, and was rewarded with ruin.
The heralds had just trumpeted the news of the great victory in Northrend and the demise of the Lich King. For the citizens of Stormwind and Alliance soldiers everywhere, the news was cause for great celebrations. For me, it brought only bitter disappointment. I was nearly finished with my training at the cathedral and I expected to leave for the front within days. Now, with the war over, I feared that I would be sent home instead to ease the financial burdens the war had imposed. And once home, I would be expected to eventually take over the family business as the eldest son.
Now I get along just fine with my family for the most part. We really have only two points of contention, one being the aforementioned family business. My father is a clothier with a very narrow specialty. Namely, female undergarments. He works nearly every day creating endless varieties of the frilly, lacy, strappy things that the women would giggle over and immediately retire to a private room to try them on (which basically ruined any potential high points of the job in my opinion). He was so successful that even started to branch out into clothing designed for elven, dwarven and even gnomish women. Naturally as the eldest child I was expected to eventually take over this business, yet without the aforementioned perks I couldn't see that as being anything less than a colossal embarassment. This was one of the reasons I eventually stormed out to join the Silver Hand.
The other reason was Verana. She was the daughter of another clothier who, get this, specialized in female OUTERgarments (dresses, blouses, etc.) No I'm not making this up. As soon as my father met her father they determined two things: merging their businesses would make them incredibly wealthy and that a marriage between Verana and I would be a match made in (financial) heaven. My problem with this was that I couldn't stand her. She wasn't ugly by any definition, with a smooth, well-rounded face and ample physical charms (which I had already sampled several times without anyone's knowledge). Unfortunately her beauty was surpassed only by her total lack of anything resembling intelligent thought. She gave a new definition to the word "vapid" and was able to talk for HOURS without saying anything at all. When I told my father he simply told me to bear it, as women weren't kept around for their intelligence anyway. Fortunately my mother wasn't around to hear him say that, otherwise there would have been a scene.
With these two unpleasant futures awaiting me, I retreated to my small room inside the barracks. Once inside, I knelt down and I prayed. I prayed for something to arise to make my years of constant training and drill worth the time spent. I prayed for another great evil to appear so that I could vanquish it. I prayed for something, ANYTHING to free myself from the ignoble fate that waited me.
After that I stood up, turned around, and had not taken two steps before the floor of my cell heaved beneath me. Confused, I stumbled out of my room to the sight of panicked initiates running everywhere and loose pieces of stone and gravel falling from the ceilings. A second violent tremor had me fleeing the building and down the cathedral steps. Once outside, I saw similar scenes of fear and destruction all around me, and the sky had turned crimson. As I was about to question a nearby guardsman, a great roar split the sky like thunder, and I looked up to see a great beast of flame and shadow bring destruction to the city. At the time I had no idea who Deathwing was, nor did I have any idea of the magnitude his coming would change our future forever. But as he settled over the gates of Stormwind, I did know two things:
My prayer had been answered, and it had been wrong.
So very, very wrong.
