Chapter 5: Change of Air
Tirion Fordring
Once again, he found himself doing prep work for the Tournament. The table was filled with different papers and documents. Justicar Truehart rested on a chair at the other side of the table, writing over a parchment of paper. "…as Warchief of the Horde, we wait for your arrival as representative of your faction. Of couse, you are free to bring any other representative of your choosing. Hoping for the collaboration of our forces to bring us closer to ending this war, signs Tirion Fordring, Highlord of the Argent Crusade."
She finished reading the card and looked up to Tirion for approval. A quick nod from the paladin was all she needed. "Well then, the invitation for Warchief Thrall is ready, and so is King Varian's. We should be sending them now, so they have time to prepare." She looked at Tirion's eyes; his mind was clearly somewhere else. "Are you okay, Highlord?"
He let a deep sigh out. "I'm just thinking if we're good enough on help, Mariel. We've got both the Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand reunited under the Argent Crusade. We have the Alliance and the Horde with us. The Kinghts of the Ebon Blade are on good terms with us too, but is this enough?"
She went around the table and rested her hand over his shoulder. "All of Azeroth is with us, Tirion. Besides, we also have the full support of the Kirin Tor here in Northrend." He looked at her, a small smile on his lips. "You're right. I'm sorry… the Highlord should never be faltering, less so in times like this." She quickly responded, "It's alright Highlord. This war has been taxing on all of us. I can only imagine how hard it must be on you."
She was right. As the Highlord of the Argent Crusade and current head of the offensive against the Lich King, the fate of Azeroth rested upon his shoulders. He breathed in and out; maybe he needed a change of air. "Mariel, give me some parchment and ink." She quickly handed him the materials, and after taking a seat, started writing a new letter.
After a couple minutes, he had finished. He closed the scroll, sealed it and put it on the pocket of his coat "The Kirin Tor have been crucial in our fight against the Scourge; I think the least we can do is invite them to the Tournament." He started heading towards the exit of the tent. "I shall give this to Archmage Rhonin personally. Can I trust you will see the rest of the invitations delivered?"
Justicar Truehart gave a small bow. "As you command, Highlord." He waved goodbye to her fellow paladin and headed towards his personal tent. The cold winds of Icecrown blew as hard as usual, but at least the sun was shining high on the sky. As Tirion walked through the grounds, he could watch all the different races training over their mounts, hitting either wooden targets or each other.
After a couple minutes, he arrived. Upon entering, he left the letter over a small wooden desk besides his bed and started taking his coat off. It had been a while since he'd visited Dalaran, and the very thought of the warm climate of the Crystalsong Forest already drew a smile on his face. When he wasn't thinking about the war effort, which he was most of the time, Tirion wondered how so many different climates could coexist so close to each other.
He started putting his armor on. If he was to deliver an official invitation to the Argent Tournament to the head of the Kirin Tor, he should show himself as Highlord of the Argent Crusade, not as some random civilian. As he strapped the different pieces of armor over his body, his eyes rested upon the blade hanging from the wall.
The Ashbringer. The only blade which could rival the Lich King's cursed runeblade. He couldn't help but remind that dreadful day on Light Hope's Chapel. Remembering his comrades fallen under the attack of the Scourge always brought a tear to his eye, but crying would help no one. If he was to make justice, he would have to put all his effort and willpower to unite Azeroth and bring Arthas down.
Sitting on his bed, he put on his golden helmet and stood up. Walking to his sword, he carefully grabbed it from its hilt. Tirion could feel the Light flowing through the blade, and into him. It made him feel safe, confident, but most of all, clear. All his doubts had vanished. Now feeling better, he strapped the sword to his belt and left his tent.
He started walking towards the main building of the Grounds, a big wooden arena which was to host the final trials for the warriors of Azeroth. Many small tents surrounded the structure, with different vendors offering their products. After climbing the stairs leading to the main arena, he turned left and walked towards a pair of Kirin Tor mages talking.
As they noticed the Highlord approaching, they swiftly stopped their conversation and gave a bow of respect. "Highlord." He was relaxed in his response. "Good morning gentlemen, I hope your experience in the Argent Tournament has been pleasing so far." The mages were taken by surprise; for such a high authority, he was pretty friendly.
One of the mages, a red-haired blood elf, was the first to answer. "Of course, Highlord. We've been training as hard as we can for the upcoming trials. But I've got to admit, physical combat ain't our forte, specially being mages." Tirion had a small laugh at this. "I understand. However, if you're to face the challenges ahead of us, you must be prepared to fight even outside of your comfort zone."
"Of course, Highlord." Tirion faced the blood elf. "What's your name, son?" The blood elf was quick to respond, "Arethis Bloodcrown, your Highness."
"So, Arethis. I need to deal with some affairs in Dalaran, and I was hoping you could help me with a portal, if you don't mind." Before he finished the sentence, the blood elf was already channeling the spell. "It would be an honor to help you, Lord Fordring."
As he watched the portal slowly taking shape, he started thinking about his visit to the mage city. It had been a while since he'd taken some time for himself. Maybe he could visit one of the inns inside a city; have some fine Dalaran wine and cheese, or maybe even a beer. But first things first.
When the portal was fully channeled, he extended his hand to the mage. "Thanks for your help, Arethis. I hope to see you and your friend in the final trials." Arethis shook his hand and answered with a smile. "Of course, Lord Fordring. We'll do our best." With that, Tirion stepped into the portal.
Brann Bronzebeard
A Hero's welcome. One of the biggest inns in Dalaran, rivaled only by The Filthy Animal and the Legerdemain Lounge. A crazy day it was, inside the renown pub. Music could be heard across the building, the sound of violins, flutes and drums filling the place. Waiters full of trays, overflowing with foods and drinks, could be seen going from one table to another, leaving diverse scents as they went through.
Many different adventurers could be seen inside the inn; all of them members of the Alliance, of course. Humans, night elves, draenei, dwarves and gnomes could be seen sharing tables all over the place. Some were eating while chatting, others were happily drinking their beers, or passed out due to their happy drinking. There even was a pink haired gnome playing Hearthstone against a night elf in a corner, some people gathering around to watch the game.
At the centre of the inn, at the biggest table, a drinking match was taking place. In one side, a huge, big horned draenei was finishing his beer jar, ten more of them empty by his side. In front of him, a bearded dwarf with a hat did the same, just as much empty jars by his side. They were both surrounded by a multitude of people cheering on them, but most importantly, waiting to see who would lose first.
They both finished at the same time. As they put their jars on the table, the dwarf spoke to his opponent, clearly tipsy after so much beer. "Come ooon laddie. No matteh how biig ya are, ya ain't beatin' meee her-hip!" The draenei, just as affected as his rival, defiantly responded. "I'm not gonna back down against the gre-" He had to interrupt himself mid-sentence to stop himself from puking. The crowd cheered, but he wouldn't give up. After pushing it down his throat, he continued, "I'm nooot gonna back down against the great Bra-hip! Brann Bronzebeard! I could take on the Legion back in Out-hip! Outland, I can take on a little dwarf here!"
"Who ya calling little, space goat?! Wanna bring it?!" He stood up, barely keeping himself on his feet. "Okey then!" Brann could clearly feel his coordination affected by the sheer amount of booze in his body, but after a couple of attempts, he pulled a bunch of gold coins from his pouch. The Ensidia guild had been kind enough to give him a part of the gains from their visit to Ulduar, and this was no time to be sparing money. He punched the table, coins in hand. "Bring us a keg!"
The crowd started cheering as a couple of waiters brought the giant keg to the table. Brann could see the draenei's expression when the keg hit the table; he was going down. "Wanna back down now, goaty-boy?" The draenei was not going down without a fight. "Bring it on, Bronzebeard!" Each of them took their jars and started drinking like there was no tomorrow.
The crowd cheered as both opponents drank jar after jar of beer. Even the innkeeper and the chefs were keeping an eye on this duel. Brann felt like he was going to throw up in any moment, but he could see the draenei in a state just as bad, if not worse. He had to keep going; what kind of dwarf loses in a drinking contest?
After a couple of minutes, he could see it: the draenei clumsily left his jar over the table, and after putting his hand over his mouth, couldn't hold it any longer. He started puking all over the place, the crowd on his side backing off to evade the puddle of puke. At Brann's side though, everyone was cheering and laughing at the image. The dward, as drunk as he was, could even notice a couple of pouches passing from one person to another; funny how there were actually betting on them.
As some people helped the draenei into the toilet, Brann was lying over the table. The contest itself was always the funny part; having to recover from it? Not so much. He tried standing up, only to inmediately fall to the floor. It had been a while since he had been in a drinking match. Thus, he was kinda rusty. In his golden days, he could drink twice the amount without breaking a sweat.
"It looks like I'm getting older…hip!" A soft voice sounded besides him. "I think it was quite the show." Brann looked up: a young, beautiful elf was crouching besides him, her long hair falling by her side. He wished he was in a better condition. "Considering the difference in size, I'm quite impressed you pulled a win." She offered her hand to the dwarf, who happily accepted; not like he could stand up on his own anyways.
"Ain't about size, gal, but about spirit!" She chuckled at the comment, and coquettishly started looking at Brann. "Perhaps you would prefer if we continued this talk somewhere more… private?" He couldn't believe it; he won the drinking match AND got lucky with a sexy elf? This was surely a good day.
"Sure, gal! A change of air could definitely help me right now… hip!" They started walking towards the exit as she helped the dwarf stay on his feet. Brann couldn't be happier right now. Between his excitement and drunkenness, he failed to notice her slightly more greyish than normal skin, nor her blood red eyes.
Hi everyone! It's been a while; roller coaster in my life and I had forgotten this actually existed! Since I'm in college now, I'll try updating if I have the time, since writing actually helps me relax a bit. So, thanks for reading and hope you like this and the next chapters!
PD: made some QoL changes to the existing chapters.
