The Ballad of Davlin
Even in the snowing mountains surrounding Iron Forge the workers were too warm for sleeves. Frost hanging off of their beards they continued mining at a steady pace. The broad and short stature of the dwarves helped retain their body heat, while the constant movement made sure that there was plenty of it. The dwarves were working as hard as they were driven, they were prisoners.
Prisoners was a strong word to use. It would be more prudent to explain that dwarven justice was very strict as to make sure that dwarven tempers were kept in check. This couldn't be more necessary than on the slope north of Iron Forge, the dwarven capital city. Sitting high on the slope, frost hanging from his long brown beard, worked Davlin. His crime was the criminal use of his fists as weapons when intoxicated. The infraction had landed him with three months mining the northern slopes. Since then he had started multiple brawls while incarcerated and had lengthened his sentence to an entire 2 years. His short temper made him a liability while his amazing strength made him invaluable to the mining operation. Therefore they had devised a magical collar to sustain him. If he were to attempt escape or start another fight he would be petrified into stone until a cleric were to release him.
It wasn't a problem for him. Being the only one on the northern slope allowed for the solitary conditions that Davlin preferred. His life had been good to him. Before his infraction he had been a miner for the Alliance guard out of Iron Forge. Reserved and quiet he'd been a dwarf comprised of only two visible emotions: stoic and rage. It was more that his preferred solitary lifestyle made his social graces severely lacking.
While he lacked social comradery, he had become well versed in almost all forms of weaponry, and his years mining had corded his muscles to rival that of even the strongest dwarves. He was strong, versed in weaponry, and had a short temper, even he believed he was best off working the dwarven hills with a pickaxe. He could have spent the rest of his life up here, on the verge of freezing, being stoic.
Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day. Walking up the slope, a full three hours early was his warden, followed by a human who's clothing marked him as a member of the Alliance Guard. Snorting, Davlin ignored their approach and continued swinging his pick.
"Davlin, ye've got a visitor. He be wantin' to set ye free."
Davlin hefted his axe in a manner that wasn't very threatening until coupled with his look. The man stepped forward anyways. "Your handiwork with the Taurens earned you quite the reputation. I've been sent here on an unoffocial capacity...for a friend. He's getting old and is in need of an apprentice. You'd learn the ways of the forest, the animals, and about battles that even you've never seen. He told me and I immediately came here, thinking of what I've heard of you. He doesn't know I'm here. I want you to be a surprise for him. In exchange you'd be set free, all infractions forgotten. You'd be allowed to serve the Alliance again." The last bit caught his attention the most. He'd be able to serve again. He'd enjoyed missions into Horde territory. He'd enjoyed traveling. The training didn't sound entertaining at all, but he could always find some way to return to Iron Forge's northern slopes.
Obviously hesitant, Davlin nodded.
"Good. You've just got one test. Catch." Before Davlin could raise his eyebrow in curiosity a stone flew in front of him, he dropped his pickaxe and caught it with both hands. It was smaller than his palm and had a rune that depicted it as a hearthstone.
It was glowing a bright green.
Within the space of a blink he found himself in a dark cavern, he couldn't see past the end of his nose and had nothing in his hands but the hearthstone. Out of the darkness he heard something cut through the air. Out of instinct he ducked and managed to still catch something sharp in his belly. The pain fueling his rage he threw himself towards the cold stone as another object whizzed by him. Reaching to his gut he pulled what felt like an arrow from him with only a grunt of pain. He stood and ran towards the direction of the arrows. Slamming his body full force into something he started stabbing with the arrow he pulled from himself pushing into the whatever soft tissue he could find. Breaking the arrow he found himself pummeling the assailant with his hands and forehead before finally being yanked off by what seemed to be two more.
Straining his corded muscles he threw the two assailants who had removed him from his previous target into each other with enough force that he heard something crack. Falling from their grip he ran in the opposite direction, fumbling blindly for a weapon. Coming across the first target he groped around for anything he could find. Cutting himself on a knife within the folds of cloth on this target he yanked it out and turned and ran back towards his foes who had fallen. Being unable to see he collided with them blindly, toppling over into a mess of fists and jabs with the knife, when he stood he could feel the blood pouring off of his head. He only hoped it wasn't all his.
Searching around with his other senses he heard a small scuffle and then the sound of fast padding, as though an animal or soft boots were running directly at him. Inside Davlin, a new thought crossed his mind. He dropped the knife, and as though he could feel what were running at him, he raised his hands and caught two paws with each. His short dwarf arms extended at full length he held the animal at bay. He could hear its snapping jaws as it strained to bite his face. Instinctively he let out an animal roar of his own and then head butted the animal, rolling over he risked letting go of the animals paws to grab it by its head. As it's claws raked him, he pulled it forward and bit its ear until it yelped. Letting go, he quickly found that the animal had stopped trying to bite him. Instead he could feel it lay down on the ground. Not very content, yet resigned to having been defeated.
He almost had time to worry about why his collar hadn't frozen him when he heard another shuffle, different from the beast that had attacked him. He quickly stepped to the side and let out a whistle, why he had done so he didn't know but the response was lifesaving. His opponents, he guessed, could see. He had deciphered this from their reaction to his movements, and his use of the bow. When he had sidestepped he could hear the shift in shuffle to account for this. His whistle at the last second had had the unexpected result of launching his newest ally, the beast, at his target. The resulting scream of death identified his assailants as trolls. Davlin stood there, motionless for what seemed like an eternity. He had little idea of what was going to happen next until, finally, he could see something. It was a portal, opening up in front of him, on the other side he saw the Alliance Guard and the warden. Without hesitating he jumped through.
As he landed, eyes closed, he noticed the rush of snow around his face. Davlin stood quickly, anger laced across his face and he said the first words he had said in almost a month.
"Why didn't I turn to stone?" He addressed the warden, ignoring the man who had imperiled his life.
"The magic is specific to Iron Forge. When you leave it, so does the collar's power over you."
His first curiosity satisfied, Davlin turned towards the Alliance Guard and threw a punch that could shatter granite. As his fist connected he quickly turned into a statue who's consistency was somewhat similar to granite.
Not sure how long it had been, Davlin's consciousness returned to him slowly. Being a statue had a means of drawing out your hunger, and what month it was wasn't nearly as important to him as how soon his next meal would be. Finally, shaking away the last bit of stiffness that had followed his magical incarceration he stood and took in his surroundings.
Davlin was no longer in Iron Forge. For that matter he was no longer in Dun Morogh. From what he could tell, he might not even me in Azeroth anymore. The forest around him was lush. more so than in near Loch Modan, and he found that the purity of the air almost made him gasp. He had become so accustomed to the smell of smelting that he'd almost forgotten what clean air tasted like. Trees surrounded Davlin, but while the forest engulfed him, it was still evident that there was sentient presence nearby. A mound of dirt, about three dwarves high and the length of an elder crocolisk sat before him inlaid with only a door. Davlin walked forward and pushed his way through the door.
Inside was a panther resting on top of a table, or what Davlin thought must be a panther, for Davlin had never seen a panther before. He stepped forward and stopped himself as the panther prepared to lunge for him. As he stood there he took in his surroundings as quickly as possible. He didn't want to aggravate the beast seeing as he had no weapon to defend himself with. In a precautionary manner he extended his arm, gently trying to calm the beast in an instinctual pose. Showing as little fear as he could he allowed the panther to step forward and smell his hand. His fear rose slightly as he felt his fingers get brushed by the panther's tongue. As the panther started to lick his hand he found himself calming. The panther had decided he was safe. Upon finishing the inspection the panther resumed its sleep on the table. Davlin, hungry still, immediately began searching the home for food.
An hour later, having gorged himself on all the food present, Davlin started playing with the panther. Together they horsed around creating quite a mess. When finally the habitant of the abode returned, even Davlin found himself hard pressed to not feel guilty for the mess he had created. He stood, expecting a fight. As the tall Night Elf strode toward him the panther left Davlin's side and ran to its master's.
Surprisingly, the Elf smiled. Davlin saw this as more of a threat than the stoic look he had been previously witnessing.
"Good to see you are among the...umm...less solid now. I put the counter enchantment on you almost a week ago. Not being a cleric it took some time to work."
The Elf walked past him and to a cupboard. He stood almost twice the dwarf's height and looked old, especially for a member of such an ageless species. He walked with a slight limp and wore a very basic chainmail shirt. When he returned from the cupboard he carried a large apple. He sat at the table, amidst the mess that had been his home and started munching on his apple.
"They said you were quiet."
He kept eating his apple, the silence only interrupted by the constant munching. Davlin had the patience to wait it out. Silence seemed the only way to beat this battle. Finally, the elder broke the silence.
"I'm Sneeda Nighthunter. A Night Elf hunter. Gregory told you that I am to train you. You've shown promise. You managed to befriend Sheila, something I've seen no one do in 50 years. You take the time to sit with me, learn what I have to offer and, I promise, you'll thank me for it afterwards."
With a a grunt and a nod, the training began.
"Show me what you can do." Sneeda stood there, sword sheathed, leaning about ten yards away from Davlin on a tree.
"You know that I can fight." He spoke.
"I don't know that you can fight smart. Grab a weapon and attack me." His demeanor was as calm as if he was buying goods from the nearest town, which Davlin still didn't know where he was.
Davlin shrugged. Obviously, this man knew little of his background. He walked over to a table that Sneeda had set up and grabbed an axe and a sword. He hefted both for balance, set the sword back down and walked back towards Sneeda. He stopped at his original position, twirled the two handed axe from hand to hand before settling on a grip and charged. He started priming himself for the strike as he got within 5 yards of the teacher. He gathered all of his rage and focused it on his target before lifting his axe high in a fast movement, with full intent to bring it down on his teacher.
He never got the chance. Behind his rage he heard the small snap of what must have been a trap. Mid-swing, his entire bottom half of his body became frozen in ice. His moment stopped he was barely able to hold onto his axe. His rage failed to subside and instead raced at twice its strength. He let out a furious roar and swang wildly reaching for Sneeda.
Among his roars Sneeda stared on. He walked toward Davlin and drew his sword. "You're rage helps you focus on your target. Targets rarely are the ones who attack. You won't be able to fight worth a damn if you don't learn to fight without rage." Sneeda walked back to his previous position and held his sword across his chest. As he did so the ice trap wore off. Davlin's rage had done nothing to subside and it propelled Davlin forward. He prepared for another attack as he lunged again for his newest instructor.
Sneeda's response was to simply crouch. The thud that hit Davlin's chest moved with such speed and strength that it had to be Sheila launching over her master. Against all his struggling Davlin couldn't free himself. He was strong enough, but he wasn't stupid enough. Sheila's teeth were clenched around the dwarf's neck.
"You can't even hear me through that rage can you? Life's a game! Battle's a game! Everything is a game! Where does your battle rage come from? You manifest it to help you with battle, but it doesn't help you. I think you just don't know any other way to fight." Sneeda let out a whistle and stepped back, raising his sword to defense posture. "Alright, short stuff, again."
Davlin stood and tried, for the first time since he had been unfrozen from the petrification spell, he decided to actually listen to what he was told. He tried his hardest to calm himself and then waded in. He took a fast swing at Sneeda's head which Sneeda parried and then countered with a fast return slap across Davlin's back.
"Are all you dwarves slow or is it just the miners?" Sneeda followed it with a derisive laugh.
Davlin fought to control the rage that started to rise like bile in his throat. No matter how hard he fought though, the dwarven weapon master couldn't beat past Sneeda's defenses. What was worse was the ongoing destruction the laughter was doing to his resolve.
"Hmm, how about incentive? I'll cook you a big meal if you lay one hit on me."
More laughter.
"Nah? I thought dwarves always fought with their stomachs. Especially fat little dwarves like you."
More laughter.
"I just remembered. You remind me of your mother. She was easy too."
Even more laughter, followed by a parry that landed Davlin on his back.
Against his very nature, Davlin found himself doing something he couldn't remember the last time he'd done.
He was smiling.
"Aye, she said that Night Elves were quick on and off their feet." They both laughed at that.
Davlin hopped to his feet, finding himself finally seeing this battle as a game.
"Well, she must not have meant me. My son would be prettier."
Now every joke brought them both laughing.
"Aye, me father'd be able to fight better and would have a better choice in pets."
"I haven't even started using magic yet."
"If ye use magic like ye fight, I've got little to worry about."
On that statement, Davlin parried a swing from Sneeda and brought the axe to rest on his teacher's shoulder.
"Ye owe me a dinner. I like meat."
"Tomorrow will work on a hunter's magic and then get you a pet. Tonight...we have a little more fun."
Three hours into the evening and the two hunters were laughing so hard that they could barely stay in their seats. This was, of course, aided by the large amounts of alcohol they had consumed. They had found the nearest bar, which, as Davlin had discovered soon after they left their hidden home, was in Darkshire.
Here they weren't hunters, ex-prisoners, elves, or dwarves. Here they were two drunk old friends.
As Davlin and Sneeda stood to leave the bar, Sneeda ran into a large Draenei who had also been drinking for a while. Without missing a beat the Draenei turned right into Sneeda's path to the exit and swung his fist into Sneeda's jaw.
Unprepared for the blow, Sneeda fell hard. Davlin on the other hand had taken a quick step back, grabbed a chair, and launched it as his teacher fell. Missing Sneeda's head by inches it took the unsuspecting Draenei square in the chest, knocking him back. Davlin let out a loud laugh.
"Don't ye big types know how to duck?"
The Draenei was up in seconds and launching himself over the fallen Sneeda. When he reached Davlin, the burly dwarf dropped a heavy fist onto the larger being's knee, dropping him for a second time.
"Aye, comin' down to me height. That's very gentlemanly of you. Allow me to buy ye a drink." Reaching the table top he had just left he grabbed a bottle of elven wine and smashed it over the Draenei's head.
Grabbing another bottle, Davlin downed the contents in a matter of seconds and smashed that bottle over the Draenei's head as well, before breaking into song.
"Her love was like a shining ale."
He jumped up onto the table.
"Her skin, too, was dwarven pale."
He scooped up another drink.
"Her touch the men all hoped fer and feared."
He emptied that bottle too.
"For she were the dwarf with the prettiest beard!"
The Draenei had managed to climb to his feet again and stood before Davlin.
"Aye, and I thought me head was dense."
He had no sooner finished that sentence when the table was over end and with it Davlin.
He got up in time for the assailant to grab him by the shirt and slam him into the bar wall. The shock of the wall hitting him sent Davlin's head reeling. He shook it in time to catch the Draenei's forehead with his nose. Shaking his head again he looked the Draenei directly in the eyes with the most stern gaze he could muster. It was enough to stop the attacker for a moment.
"The problems with pickin' up a dwarf be in his height. By picking him up so his eyes are up here. You leave his feet right," he kicked as hard as he could between his attacker's legs, "here."
The Draenei had never been kicked by a dwarf, but he'd be able to say that he'd never been kicked by anything harder. He dropped to his knees, releasing Davlin who immediately resorted to hitting the Draenei. "Went easy on ye with the bottles." When he finally thought he'd fought the fight out of the big blue menace he ran over to a slowly standing Sneeda. His jaw was bruised already, but otherwise he looked unharmed.
"Ye be alright?"
"Yes, I'll be fine." He straightened himself out. "I didn't sense any rage in that fight."
"No? Then ye didn't see me kick him. His eyes were flooded with rage about then."
The old elf laughed. "I meant you."
"Aye, I know what ye meant. I might be a hard one to teach, but when I learn something I'm just as stubborn about forgetting it."
With that they walked out of the bar and back to Sneeda's hut.
The months went by and Davlin excelled at his training in the magics. As a dwarf, he had learned some magic years ago on how to find stone that could be mined. Sneeda also discovered that Davlin had the hunters gift of empathy with animals. He could almost communicate with them, sensing their feelings and also sending some of his.
The next morning, after a brief hunt for that evening's dinner, Davlin approached Sneeda, who happened to be petting Sheila.
"It's time you chose a pet."
"Then me training's complete?"
"I could give you the whole 'you never stop learning' speech, but let's face it, it's cliche."
"Aye, that it is."
The old elf looked up at Davlin for the first time since his approach. "Where will you go then?"
"The quickest way forward would be the way back. I'll be headin' to Iron Forge to see what I can do to aid the Alliance. There's some mean pigs up that way too, might find me a critter as tough as me."
Sneeda stood and brought a large, two handed axe around from behind him and held up for Davlin. "I've enchanted it to increase the speed with which you attack. This coupled with your Aspect of Cheetah shall make you a fast opponent indeed. I wish you luck, Davlin."
"Now don't ye start blubbering like a wee infant."
The elf let out a loud laugh. "Never my friend. Be gone, so I don't have to look upon your face again." They embraced and Davlin left with the speed of a cheetah.
Iron Forge had gone the way of the dwarf and not changed at all in his almost year gone. As he entered the Forge he found himself drawn to the nearest pub. Walking in he saw something that peeked his interest more than the alcohol. A fellow dwarf hunter sitting at the bar, a large wolf at his side. Walking up the dwarf, Davlin took the seat next to him. Before the dog could start to growl, Davlin sent a wave of calm toward him.
"I be a hunter looking for a tale. Name's Davlin." Davlin thrust out one hand while his other shot up to get the bartender's attention.
"I'm Kateff. What kind of tale would a fellow hunter be interested in?"
"I'm lookin' for somethin' to keep me hands busy during our war. I'm just outta training and am lookin' for a fight."
Kateff chugged his drink and turned towards his new companion. "Me too. I finished my training of in Southshore. You?"
"Near Darkshire."
Reaching into his satchel, Kateff pulled out a rolled parchment. "I'm looking to start a guild, Heroes of the Alliance. We'd work to build comradery and take the fight directly to the Horde. I need members though. You interested?"
"Best thing to come me way today."
Kateff gave him a wry look. "Where'd you get that accent anyway?"
"What accent?"
"The...nevermind. Here, you take this copy, take the day and start recruiting people. Meet back here come sunset and I'll buy you a drink."
"Aye, drinks."
Davlin returned that evening with a few signatures and the two dwarves spent the next few hours talking of their training and drinking. When the night was over, they resigned themselves to the inn.
As Davlin started to step into the inn he heard a noise. A beastly grunt from down the pathway. Still a little drunk, yet not nearly as tired as he should have been, he took off in the direction of the sound. When he came upon the tracks, he saw that they belonged to a large boar. He followed them with amazing speed before seeing his adversary. Slowly, he snuck up to it, hand outstretched. He sent every thought that went through his mind. He wanted this boar to be his ally, to work with him in fighting the enemy. He'd keep it well fed, together they would have great adventures. He got closer, hand outstretched.
The damn boar bit him. Davlin let out a mighty roar and punched it square in the eye. The might of the blow did the last thing Davlin expected, and convinced the boar that he'd be better off on the hunter's side, than as a dinner side.
The boar, whimpering, put forth a sense of obedience and stepped forward. Davlin, ignoring the pain, placed his wounded hand on the boar's head. Putting magic behind his words, he said, "Phillip, boar of Davlin."
With a sharp whistle the boar evaporated into the night mists.
Walking through Iron Forge, Davlin found himself entering the Military Ward. Buying a hunk of meat, he threw it into his pack for Phillip and turned to see Kateff and a gnome walking up. The gnome's staff screamed mage.
"Ye be trying to feel taller Kateff?"
Kateff smiled slightly at the crack on the gnome's height and went into introductions. "This is Wintone. He's offered to help us in our quest to build a guild."
"Yes, with Gnomeregon currently on the verge of complete collapse, I feel as though I'll do more good for my people on the front lines."
Davlin laughed. "It'll be good to have ye. If we run out of ammo we can throw gnomes at them now."
They all had a laugh at that and started walking blindly through Iron Forge. Randomly, they ended up in an armory shop. At the desk was another mage, a human woman. When she turned to face them, Davlin's heart skipped a beat.
"If she weren't a human, I might be finding my way saying something pretty to her."
Wintone spoke up. "You don't even know what something pretty sounds like."
While Kateff laughed, Davlin frowned. His frown was quickly replaced by a smile. "I'll show you."
He ran over to the mage, her purple robes flowing, and jumped up on a bench to get eye level with her. "Me darlin', we're recruiting to take the fight to the Horde, gimme yer signature and together we can destroy the filthy beasts."
Wintone whispered sarcastically. "That was almost poetic."
She didn't even bother to put up a smile. "You're the third person to ask for me to join their guild today. Go away!" And she stormed away.
"Ye say one word and I'll sick the pig on ye." He warned his friends upon his return.
When their laughing had died down Kateff brought in the news. "We'll get more applicants if we have a successful raid. I say we move out now. Within a week we can be killing orcs in the Stonard, in the Swamp of Sorrows."
"Aye, that's a pleasant name. Swamp of Sorrows. Makes me want to buy a vacation home." With that they set about making preparations.
Across from the orc encampment, Davlin set about placing traps. The plan was to draw them out. After having set the traps he ran quietly to the meeting place. There sat Wintone, casting spells to protect himself and his colleagues and Kateff waiting surprisingly calm. "Ye ready?" They nodded. Davlin and Kateff let out a loud whistle and ran in opposite directions to cover the camp on the east and west flanks.
Within the camp, moments after their whistles, orc yells could be heard. Battlecries mixed with cries of pain erupted. Davlin set up a few yards off of one of his traps and waited. Within moments Phillip leapt over the trap. Following close on Phillip's heels were three orcs. The first two were engulfed in the ensuing explosion while the third managed to dive aside just in time. Of course his dive landed him almost in Davlin's lap. One quick swing of his axe and Davlin ended the orc's confusion.
"Three orcs...and two destroyed by a pig." He laughed and then ran to join his comrades. The encampment had been chosen because of its proximity to Stonard. The proximity would ensure that everyone would hear of it. It was the ultimate poster action.
Meeting the other two mid-camp, Davlin had to hack through 2 more orcs. "How many be left?"
Wintone turned and smacked Davlin.
"Why'd ye do that?" He shouted.
"Thought it'd help with your accent."
"What accent?"
Destroying the dubious look of the mage was a loud bang. On the far side of the encampment a portal opened. On the other side was Iron Forge while coming through was the beautiful lady who had spurned Davlin. While this would have normally brought humor aimed at the slighted dwarf, the situation was far from humorous. While obviously hoping to accomplish some other mission, she had chosen her timing poorly. The remaining 10 orcs closed on her position ignoring the attackers on the other side.
Davlin moved first by letting out a tremendous whistle. "Duck!"
Without thinking the lady ducked just as Phillip launched over her back and knocking over the first three orcs. A quick overhead wind up launched Davlin's axe towards the back of the line attacking her. Kateff managed to take out three more with his gun while Wintone launched a spell that engulfed two more. The last one received the quick slashes of the lady mage's dagger to his throat.
She reached down to one of the corpses and removed a gleaming dagger from within the folds of its armor.
"Thank you, thank you so much." She sat down. "I've been scouting the encampment for a week. If I'd have known..."
"No worries lady, we just so happened to be in the neighborhood..." Davlin started. Before he could continue Phillip rushed over.
Kateff and Wintone stayed back after a quick whisper for Davlin to plug the guild idea again.
"Aye, so what be yer name?"
"I'm Kameline, a mage out of Stormwind. You're kinda cute for a dwarf." She started petting Phillip.
Blushing Davlin stumbled over his next words. "Ye...ye wouldn't be interested in joinin' our guild, would ye?"
She smiled. "I guess I could quit if it turned out to be horrible."
"Aye, you could at that. Ye'd also be the first member to be over 3 feet tall."
They all started walking off together.
She stopped and turned towards Davlin. "Cute accent by the way."
They all began walking again and he leaned over to Wintone.
"What accent?" He whispered.
The Ballad of Davlin
Stubborn as Granite and thick as the stone.
Laughs and Laughs fighting or at home.
Fight's when he's busy and fights when he's bored.
Fighting with his axe he kills tons of Horde.
He lives a life that that's full of fun.
He's the Heroe's humorous one.
He'll raise your spirits and drown your sorrows.
Together you and he can drink til tomorrow.
He's Davlin!