(AN: So all of my previous attempts at writing a World of Warcraft fic have crashed and burned. So here we go with yet another try: hopefully this one will work.)

(I'll try to keep this one rated T, just so that it doesn't get too dirty and more people can read it. But there will be some coarse language. Most of the characters who appear in this story are ones I made up, but there are brief cameos from characters created by Blizzard, so i will reiterate that i don't own Warcraft or its established canon characters: those belongs to Blizzard.)

(This will be an introduction for one of the characters which I have used in playing World of Warcraft. It will be an origin story, since I came up with something quite unique than "starting in Elwynn Forest". This opening chapter starts during the lead-up to the Siege of Orgrimmar, but the rest of the story will take place at various points between the first three Warcraft games. Enjoy)

Introduction

The Summer's Rest inn was busy, as usual. Patrons from all over Pandaria and various visitors from the five kingdoms of the Alliance were here; some of them on business from far away places, others taking a break to enjoy the delights of the local cuisine. Though there was a war about beyond the gilded doors of Summer's Rest, here the air was one of relative peace and relaxation. Indeed, many of those now enjoying the luxuries of the Summer's Rest inn were soldiers of the Alliance, posted here briefly while awaiting new orders from Stormwind.

Yet for the moment, the horrors of war were forgotten as long as the patrons cups and plates were filled. Dwarves of Ironforge placed wagers on whoever could out-drink the Pandaren locals. A couple of Gnomes who had clearly too much to drink were dancing upon a table to the amusement of their audience. A gaggle of Night Elves in a group by themselves whispered to each other in Darnassian about what no one else knew.

At one table near the back of the inn, a human woman in her late thirties was enjoying some of the down-time by herself. On the table at which she sat was a small cup of rice wine and a very large tome; the latter of which sat open upon the table and upon which the woman periodically wrote thereon with a quill. The cup sat on the left-hand of the book, and on the right-hand was the tiny bottle of ink from which she dabbed to refill the pen.

For a while, the woman seemed quite engrossed with her business. Indeed, it was almost a whole minute before she noticed the large, hairy creature standing before her table. A soft 'ahem' was heard and the woman lifted up her eyes to the least likely one to make such a little sound: it had come from the large Pandaren standing in front of her table. They were still such an odd sight, these Pandaren. They were not as tall as the Draenei, but were easily larger than any Tauren. Though they were covered in black and white fur and had bear-ish features, they were not savage like the Furbolgs of Kalimdor. They walked upright and wore simple clothing: this one in particular wore a blue dress with red floral designs upon the skirt thereof.

"Excuse me," the Pandaren, a female, spoke to the human. "I came in here for a drink and was wondering if you'd like some company. I noticed you sitting alone here and, since there's not much else to do today before dinner, I wanted to speak with one of you outsiders."

The human nodded wordlessly and the Pandaren took a seat across from her at the table. If any had looked upon them, it would have been quite an odd sight. The Pandaren was an average five foot four inches tall, well rounded, and wearing clothes that were nice enough for public display at a fancy place like this, but not indicative of any great wealth. The human, on the other hand, was five foot seven, slender - the Pandaren might have likened her to a twig - and wore the white and gold of a priest beneath her blue traveling clothes: all of this complemented by flaming red hair that currently rested upon her shoulders and back.

"I believe I've seen you around here before," the Pandaren spoke after a short pause. "I think I know your name. What was it, now? Meruisa Redman?"

The human chuckled softly. "Melissa Redmane," she corrected.

"I think that was it," the Pandaren woman replied. "Maybe. All you human names sound the same to me." Melissa Redmane did not reply to the Pandaren's insensitive remark. She had heard more and worse than these from the Shado-Pan in the Jade Forest ever since her arrival in Pandaria.

"I remember you, too," Melissa returned. "You were at Halfhill Market a few days ago when Po Ironbelly's wagon broke down."

The Pandaren laughed. "That was a sight indeed! All of his beautiful melons went rolling all over the ground! He nearly fainted trying to get them back in before that Hozen pinched them."

Melissa chuckled. "Xing, right? Xing Marshpaw."

"Yes, that's correct," nodded Xing the Pandaren. "You have an excellent memory." Melissa thanked Xing for the compliment, then returned to her writing. Xing called down a waiter and ordered a Stormstout lager for herself, then turned back to her drinking partner and saw her once again engrossed in her book.

"What are you writing, Miss Redmond?"

"Mrs. Redmane," clarified Melissa. "And this is new entry in my journal."

"A journal?" asked Xing.

"Not really," Melissa replied. "It's mostly a record of all the places I've been to and all the things I've seen."

"Oh, are you a Lorewalker?"

"I suppose you'd call it that," Melissa nodded. That, as far as Melissa recalled, was the name that the Pandaren gave to their historians and archaeologists: the kind of people that Brann Bronzebeard would love to compare notes with on the secrets of the Titans (over a beer, of course).

"I would love to hear stories about the strange places you've been to, Miss...uh, Mrs. Redman," Xing stated. "You know, the people in my village believed that Pandaria was the whole world. Most still do, in fact. Even after the mists were lifted and visitors started coming to the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, there are still folk who think that Kalimdor and Stormwind are just old wives' tales. You know, like the Lich King and the Burning Legion."

Melissa smiled at Xing's oblivious comments, but it was a grim smile. What she had seen in Northrend still haunted her to this day. She had only briefly spoken about it with her comrades in arms, the only other people who had experienced it first-hand and knew the magnitude of those events as she had, and told the full story only to her husband. Even today, almost four years after the fall of the Lich King, she would not willingly tell of what had happened at the Roof of the World.

At this moment, the waiter arrived with Xing's drink, which she took and placed on the table. Melissa had stopped writing and stowed the ink and quill in the little scribe's box: made of polished ebony wood, with the crest of Lordaeron in gold upon the lid.

"There's not much to tell, though," sighed Melissa. "I mean, no more than you could hear at the Lion's Pride inn."

"Oh, I'm sure there is," Xing replied. "Besides, I have never been outside of Pandaria before. It will be like seeing a whole new world for me! Everything will be new and exciting, no matter how small or mundane it might appear to you, familiar with your strange worlds. Here's a deal, I will buy you dinner if you tell me about your travels. You look like you could use a good meal or five."

This caused Melissa to laugh genuinely. The Pandaren's obsession with food was amusing to no end, and surely she must seem emaciated beyond belief to their eyes. However, her travels and duties as a healer in the Alliance often meant long, sleepless nights away from husband and family and without proper food. She did not turn down the offer.

"Alright, then," Melissa nodded. "You're on. What would you like to know?"

"First things first, where are you from?" Xing asked. At this, Melissa's smile seemed to fade and her blue eyes fell in sorrowful memory.

"I was born and raised in a little village in the Hillsbrad Foothills, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron," she replied. "Before it was destroyed by the Undead Scourge."

"I can tell from your face that you are sad," Xing said. "Is it a bad place, this Hills-bad?"

"No," Melissa ruefully replied. "It was very beautiful, in fact. Possibly one of the most beautiful places in all of Lordaeron, as it once was."

"Then why are you sad?"

"It's gone, now," Melissa sighed. "The whole of Hillsbrad has been taken over by the Forsaken since the Cataclysm. I heard that there's nothing left of my village."

"I am terribly sorry," Xing bowed. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's nothing," Melissa dismissed.

"Um, where was this place?" she asked.

At this, Melissa reached down to the small bundle that had sat clandestinely next to her chair. From this she pulled out a map inscribed upon thick parchment vellum and rolled it out upon the table. It showed a large sea with three large continents in broken, uneven crescents situated north, east and west. Each continent sat slightly apart from each other, with a large ocean in the middle. In the midst of that ocean was a maelstrom, around which were dotted several islands. Towards the south was a roundish continent to which Melissa pointed.

"This is Pandaria," she said. "We are here."

"But it's so small," Xing replied.

"This is the Eastern Continent," Melissa stated, pointing to the easternmost 'crescent'. "And here on the top part is Lordaeron."

"That's where you're from?"

Melissa nodded. "And if you'll look closely, you can see Lordamere Lake about in the center, and the Alterac Mountains to the east. The Hillsbrad Foothills are right here directly south of Lordamere Lake, bordered on the west by the Arevas River and on the east by Thoradin's Wall."

"Such strange names," Xing commented. "I don't know how you remember them all."

"This was home to me, remember?" Melissa returned. "I grew up in those foothills, hearing stories about the great heroes of Stromgarde, Tirisfal and Alterac. The mage-city of Dalaran was within view: in fact, on a clear day, you could see the spires of the Violet Citadel if you climbed the hills just northwest of my village. As a little girl, I often could be found playing in the woods or in the little rivers of that area. It was beautiful."

"What made you want to leave?" Xing asked. "I couldn't think of anything that would make me want to leave my village. Was the food bad?"

Melissa placed her hand over her mouth to hide the wiry smile she made. "Not when I was growing up."

"Did the ale run dry?" Xing asked.

"I'm not a heavy drinker," Melissa replied. "But the taverns were still open when we left, so I don't think so."

"Then why ever would you want to leave such a perfect place?" Xing queried. "Picturesque landscape, good food and strong drink are more than enough reasons to stay at home and enjoy the comforts of life."

Melissa sighed. "Maybe if fate had been kinder, that would have been my lot. But many things happened that changed all of this."

"What horrible things could have caused you to leave home?" Xing asked in a dreadful voice.

"Oh, they weren't all horrible things," Melissa interjected. "Some of them were good." She chuckled. "In fact, the one reason that has often led me away from home was the second best thing to happen to me while I was living in Hillsbrad."

(AN: Short and sweet, but a nice introduction. Part of my inspiration for the structure of this story is based on all the Warcraft books I've read [except for War Crimes, everyone's favorite book, which i haven't read]. That really helped get this story on its feet as i started writing, which was the hardest part of the writing.)