A/N: I will attempt to update this every Sunday, but I do have a fluctuating work schedule, so please be patient.
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CHAPTER ONE
A VISITOR
Denmar sat against the far wall of the Gilded Rose and stared absently into the mug of mead on the table between his hands. The small inn that occupied Stormwind's Trade District was one of the less prominent in his opinion, but it served his purpose just as well. There was not even a barmaid, and he strongly detested sobriety on a day like this. He had had to bring his own drink all the way from Ironforge. The drab room consisted of a single table that was currently in his use and several bookcases that covered the far wall. An assortment of chairs was gathered in a half circle around a grizzly bear rug opposite the bookcases. The room was empty except for himself, the innkeeper, and another night elf intently studying a book across the room.
The Druid stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope sealed with a crest he did not recognize for what seemed to be the fiftieth time that day. It was addressed in an ornately flowing script to King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. He had been given strict instructions to deliver it at any cost. He was not even made aware of its contents. He could remember the details of that meeting as if his life depended on it. At this point, it might very well. He smiled grimly then.
A hooded man wearing ceremonial robes of the Wizards of Dalaran had approached him one afternoon several weeks past in the middle of a crowded street.
"You are the High Druid Denmar, yes?" the Wizard asked without blinking.
Denmar halted and looked the man up and down warily. No one had ever addressed him as "High Druid" before. "Yes," he answered tentatively.
The other man reached a hand into his robes. Without hesitating, Denmar threw himself at the mage and brought him crashing to the ground. He had a firm grip on the Wizard's reaching arm. His other hand was wrapped around the frail man's throat. The citizens of Dalaran took no notice of the two men struggling on the densely packed city street. "You threaten me, man!" Denmar growled menacingly. "I will tear the flesh from your bones and send you into the dark abyss!"
The Dalaran Wizard desperately gasped for breath. "C-c-calm yourself!" He wheezed. Denmar slightly eased his grip on the man's throat. "I wish only to deliver a message." Denmar stood and hovered over him, ready to pounce at a moment's warning. The Wizard managed to sit up and pulled a small envelope out of his robe. He stretched out his hand to the Druid, and Denmar took it without looking at it. The smaller man regained his footing and pushed back his hood. Wispy grey hair stuck out from a wrinkled head in the oddest places. Sparkling blue eyes were set deep into his skull over an overlarge nose. The man smiled at him. It was a sincere smile, full of warmth. "Carry that letter to Wrynn of Stormwind before all is lost."
Denmar blinked. He was still holding the letter in his hand. What was this man thinking? He was no messenger. "All is lost? Speak Common, man, not cryptic messages."
In answer, the Wizard reached back into his robes and withdrew a small leather pouch. He tossed it to the Druid. "Forty gold coins for your services in this matter, High Druid. Ask of me no further questions."
Denmar weighed the pouch in his hand for a second before pocketing both the coins and the letter. He took the man at his instructions and strode away without another word. The Wizard watched his retreating back for a moment longer. "Good luck, High Druid," he whispered to himself. Then the Wizard simply disappeared, and the city of Dalaran noticed nothing but the hint of a distant memory come and gone.
Bringing himself firmly back to the present, Denmar sighed heavily to himself and drained the last of his mead. He slammed the mug back onto the table in stoic determination and replaced the letter in his pocket next to the pouch of gold coins. He looked up and waved the innkeeper over to his table.
She was a fair skinned girl with close-cropped brown hair and emerald green eyes. She wore a plain white blouse and navy blue skirt that was belted at the waist. She smiled beamingly at him as she approached. "Good afternoon, sir!" She curtsied. "I am Allison, proprietor of this inn. How may I help ye?"
The girl seemed to have a very short term memory. This was the fourth introduction she had given him. Denmar put on his best smile. "How much do I owe you for the night?"
"Oh," she said, her smile faltering. "Leaving already? Well, it'll be five gold for the room."
He reached into his pocket and counted out seven gold pieces. The poor girl looked like she needed something to keep her spirits up. "Thank ye kindly, sir!" She beamed again. He rose from the table, replaced his mug in his pack and walked towards the door. The other night elf was still intent on her reading. "Come back again, now!" Allison called out behind him. "We're always happy to have ye at the Gilded Rose!"
He walked outside into the Stormwind Trade District. It was a clear, crisp afternoon. The cobblestone streets were populated with travelers from all across Azeroth. The Bank and Auction House were bustling with activity. He could barely hear above all the commotion. He pushed his way through shoppers and hawkers towards Stormwind Keep. It was not long until the first screams began.
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A/N: Please be sure to leave me your comments. Feedback is always appreciated!
