« Reply #22 on: November 27, 2019, 10:18:34 PM »
Wednesday, 27th day of the eleventh month,
It has been a long sea voyage. The late autumn winds and early winter tides have been very much against us every bumpy wave of the way. The captain of this Galleon is an enterprising Goblin in service to Bilgewater, He assures me that this problem was inevitable but keeps quoting that key Goblin mantra of “time is money” while hinting he’d prefer to charge his passengers on the same basis.
We will land in Raventusk village, in the hinterlands. This takes me some way out of the way from a straight landing off of Hillsbrad or Arathi, but if I want to reach Hammerfall I cannot cross the great wall named of Thoradin of the humans. Stromgarde is a powerful alliance bastion once more, and with the fall of Ar’gorok I can’t simply walk through their lands. No, it’ll have to be over the mountains or through the Dwarven passage.
It’ll be no Kun-lai hike, but the lateness of the year means snow, and those steep slopes are unknown to me. Hopefully the humans and Wildhammer do not guard the tunnel.
I regret that I will not be able to share in this experience with the rest of the clan. But my blood heritage is mine alone, and a history I have to learn for myself. I must admit, now I walk this path I cannot help but admit to myself I feel a degree of apprehension. Did my clan of birth and true parents give me up reluctantly or willingly? Were they honorable or despicable? Perhaps they drank deep of the blood of Mannaroth, or yet still, shunned the dark gift of Gul’dan.
Time will tell.
Also, I forgot to pack sausages. At least the food Kulgha gave me for the journey has kept me going.
« Last Edit: November 29, 2019, 09:51:24 PM by Okiba »
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Okiba Spearbreaker - Nag'Ogar and Warrior Monk of the Horde
"Strength, Discipline, Mastery."