Continuing to follow the soldier, the whelp had finally happened upon his destination. The buildings were all small humble cottages all with bright blue tiled roofs. One building was open to the outside, filled with small forges with fires and smoke billowing out from chimneys and from another laughter could be heard inside.
Over by where the guard had stumbled into, others dressed in the same armor as him all stared expectantly at him, with one in particular stepping forward, her armor interlaced with gold inside. "LONGFELLOW!" her scream could be heard throughout the entire village, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE ARRIVED BACK HERE AN HOUR AGO, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
The guard sheepishly shrugged and waved his arms in defense, "AH! Well Captain, you see… I uhhh." his boots shuffling across the dirt, "I was attacked by wolves and gravely injured and…"
The golden warrior scoffed and looked up and down over his body, "Do you take me for a fool?! I know when I see a 'grave injury' Longfellow! There ain't a scratch on ya!" she scowled.
"YES M'AM! Th-there is a reason for that!" he motioned towards his bare arm, "I was injured here, but some weird purple scaly creature came in, scared the wolves off, and up and healed my arm!"
Giving a long hard stare that could kill, the Captain quietly spoke, "I have seen many, many things: Gnolls, killer scarecrows, bandits, dragons, the elements themselves for Azeroth's sake…" she continued rambling, "But I don't believe I have EVER heard of whatever purple, scaly rat you just described. I don't know if what you just saw was a new species or whatever you are still late and that I cannot accept, just turn in your report and you're off for the day. I'll think of adequate punishment later…" She put her hand up to her temple.
"Of course Captain!" he slowly backed off towards the inn, "I will be sure to not disappoint the next time!" he yelped as the door to the inn slammed as he rushed in.
The hatchling watched on with curiosity and a little fear, "Perhaps there is not much to worry about" he pondered from witnessing the guard's admittedly pitiful display in front of his boss. "Just avoid the gold one and it should all be okay."
The whelp swooped through the trees, eventually reaching the building the guard had entered. Peering through the window, he saw the interior of the building. It was a warm inn with several of the patrons dancing throughout the place, or sat at tables drinking with friends laughing, even the guard Longfellow sitting with others partying the night away.
Suddenly, a massive group swarmed into the inn as well, all dressed in varying robes and armor and all with massive grins on their faces. "THE BLACK DRAGON HAS BEEN FELLED" one of them shouted, and the entire tavern went silent.
"Is it really true then?" one of the patrons said softly, "Nefarian son of Deathwing slain?" Soon the entire bar was up in a frenzy. One of the adventurers, a dwarf, spoke: "Indeed! Sadly though at the hands of the savage horde, the monsters of Blackrock shall not harm us anymore!"
The tavern erupted into cheers as the whelp was taken aback for a moment, "Nefarian… dead?!" The image of the devilish figure permeating throughout his mind; his presence weighing constantly since even before he hatched. "All this… and he is just gone?!" The whelp continued to listen on.
The dwarf leaped up onto a table, hands wildly waving through the air as he motioned for the tavern's patrons to listen on, "Our party crept further and further up the spire, an' we found the sealed door already open! Trekking through the foul halls we found bodies of slain dragons and whelps everywhere! An' not just the black dragons either!" His finger wagged as his expression turned more grim. "Through the cracked eggs, the dragonspawn slain we find… a RED DRAGON! Just laying there body all mangled, his face contorted in pain."
All of the tavern now put into a stunned silence, the dwarf kept going, "Further and further we crept and crept throughout the spire, finding weird, deformed whelps of dragons, contorted and colors splayed out amongst their gnarled heads!"
Longfellow seemed to perk up at the mention of the whelps, "You- you said dragons of many different colors? Well, what colors were they exactly?"
The dwarf's eyebrow raised a bit at this, "A deep purple with some yellows an' blues they had a sorta vicious look about em, even when dead," the dwarf leaned towards him, "Why ya asking?"
Longfellow glanced around the tavern that was staring back at him and slowly shrank into his seat. "No reason! I uh, I just like details in my stories!"
The dwarf chuckled and then went back into his tale, " Then there we were! At the top of the spire… only to find a decapitated black dragon and a banner marking The Horde…" The whelp backed from the window sitting on some boxes by the windowsill, his mind now a racing torrent.
Where to even start? He was born as an experiment to Nefarian? Was he supposed to be his father? Albeit it shouldn't matter since he is now dead, but he barely even began to know him! What was even his purpose when he was created? Was he even supposed to have lasted this long; to even be able to make it out here alive?
The hatchling's mind raced faster and faster, the adventurers that tried to kill him, the red dragon who must have saved him now dead, his deceased creator all swirling within his mind. He felt his scales begin to flare in pain again, the same uncomfortable torment within his egg as it all pushed even further until…
BOOM! The entire inn for a brief moment shook as the earth quaked beneath the adventurers' feet and the dwarf fell from the table he stood upon. Most of the tavern patrons screamed in fear as they felt parts of the ground crumble and shake from under them.
The whelp's eyes snapped open as he heard shouting and loud footsteps approaching the inn area. In a panic, the hatchling tried to scurry out of the falling boxes as he stumbled out with a loud crash.
"HEY!" The whelp jerked out of the rubble and tried to dash out to the trees, but realized he would be seen in the daylight. He scampered over to the back of the inn, and tried to hide between the garbage and other rubble out behind as the footsteps came closer.
Closing his eye again, the hatchling's mind raced with more images: The guard he saved, the adventurers in the inn, the tusked grin of the Horde member that stabbed his claw. His heart pounded as the footsteps came closer and closer. The thought of whoever this could be, what they would do. Would he become just another body to litter an area? The laughing smiling faces of the tavern patrons filtered into his mind. If only, if only he could smile along with them.
The stomping finally came to a halt, "WHO'S THERE!"