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Summertime and the living is easy... Fish are jumpin' and Nat Pagle is really quite happy about that...
Summer is upon us and for many, it's a time to head off to distant shores for a well-deserved vacation. But where, do Azerothian's vacation and why? Your mission – should you choose to accept it – is to tell us either the tale of a figure (NPC) within the World of Warcraft universe on vacation, or to sell us on a vacation package somewhere in Azeroth, Outland, or even Draenor. What can you do there? What will people get to experience? What should they even pack? It's down to you now.
The Scene: A premiere Vacation location within the World of Warcraft Universe
Your Role: Either write of the tale of any figure (NPC) within the WoW Universe on vacation or sell us on the vacation package of a lifetime anywhere in Azeroth, Outland, or Draenor.
*Please note, any non story posts may be deleted to maintain the purpose of the thread.
For previous Writer's Challenges go here- http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/12673258722
90 Blood Elf Priest
I was checking into the inn, The Wyvern’s Tail, and my associate/locksmith/engineering consultant Mr. Pezik Lockfast was loudly groaning about there being no vacancy at Miwana’s Longhouse in the Valley of Wisdom. It was wise to save a coin going with the Valley of Honor anyways. I slid into the entrance alongside the walls, avoiding any unwanted attention. The innkeeper, Nufa, tried to greet us, however, Mr. Lockfast interjected with an assertive claim of which I did not hear too well of the sort. Nufa lifted an eyebrow at my co-worker, but without assuming, I watched as her eyes traced my eyebrows.
“HEY! Are you listenin’, kid?” Mr. Lockfast tunneled his view upon my expression. His nose rings jingled as he tilted his head to shrug at me with open palms. “You got our Legal Documents, or what? You know, the ones you picked up in Blackrock Mo-” I had to shut him up, so my familiar responded to my aid and bit the good man gently on his bicep. I rotated my head, waved my eyebrows, and directed my eye contact to Nufa. “Ma’am, could we get some assistance?”
I lifted the bags I was carrying for the Bligewater vendor up to chest height, so she knew I had to perform a quick archeology lesson for her inn staff. “I need some help to look through my things. Baggage check or whatever, too, I guess!” Nufa was carrying two beer mugs, wooden ones, one in each hand. Although for Nufa, she was not over burdened and she did own the place, and I could tell on the weekend she carried vastly much more than just two to serve the Orgrimmarian patrons. She shot a fatal glance back to the bartender, Gravy. “'Ey, get over 'ere and 'elp!” Nufa shouted as she lined her right tankard’s polished crosshairs to the bartender, without spilling a drop of beer.
Gravy was more or less halfway through a firm, surgical removal of a fly off of his left tusk (his left, our right, we were still at the lobby’s doorless entryway) when he sort of shrieked in terror silently, then stumbled around his bar, whipping his sanguine hair over his shoulder. Nufa seemed to be younger, around thirty years of age, while her bartender behind her bar was close to forty in Azerothian years.
“Quit bein’ a prettyboy an’ check these man’ luggages!”
How awesome, like the best hunters I have met, she shoots to kill, and does so with only one shot, like the way a respectful sportsman would. The bartender elastically wiggled himself past territory which his bare feet never walked across, through the center of the room between the dining tables. He gasped and held his heart or lungs, I could not tell, from running too quickly to his employer’s aid, wheezing and drooling and such. I mean, he could have walked and it would have been fine. The fly was still clinging to his tusk without drifting away.
“Zug-zug!” Gravy stretched out in his neck to say within a gasping breath, clearly Orcish is his second language. If his Thalassian teachers were like any that of whom which I have learned from, they would recommend the advice upon him to study and to practice by circumlocuting the words more often. Metaphorically speaking, Nufa was the strict boss and the patient language teacher to Gravy. “Quit whinin’!” Nufa lashed back at him; Pezik and I must have been the elekk in the room.
I looked back down to Pezik and shrugged whilst still levitating his inventory at my port and starboard. “Sorry, man. I packed them well! Bat flying is a different type of journey next to something like a zeppelin cruise. Tirisfal countryside winds! Unpredictable!” Pezik released a lengthy, drawn-out sigh. Pezik looked up to Gravy. Gravy was still trying to catch his breath.
“Boys, get over 'ere!” Nufa turned and shouted at two of the guests. One was seated, and another was standing at their table on the side wall the inn. Even if they were inn crew, which I think they were not, they still hopped up and followed her orders as quickly as Gravy did.
“This is taking longer than necessary, can you just dump them open and have these grunts check them?” Pezik curled his lips as he snarled his sentence out to me, to which I did respond.
“Sure thing!” I released my grasp on the inventory. The contents deluged outwards onto the floor and the guys fell to their knees in order to sort through the junk spreading across the kodo hair rug. Nufa gasped and took a step back, then she gasped again, then took another step, and again, and over and over until she backed into the bar.
Spools of Rune thread hastily unrolled, bounding chartreuse leaps over the rolls of the rug. Purple, black, gray, yellow, green, red and blue dye vials scattered as if cylindrical billiard balls had left their illusion of rest into a triangular alignment after the rack is lifted, just to be spread like a galactic navigation chart, or a solar locator as Mr. Bronzebeard tends to remind me. Following the escaping Rune thread, its wake left trails of two varying thickness shining, magenta silken threaded spools, a coarse woolen thread ball, and a fine linen thread ball, as they all unraveled, unfurled, and unfolded over the floor, over our feet and under the legs of the inn staff and the bar stools. Three bright baubles flew to the ground; the baubles wobbled inanimately as little floaters should for a brief moment after impact on a solid surface area.
Three lumps of coal spilled out from the bags. One dry lump ricocheted under the table, a fished-up one streaked across the rug, and another from an Ogre in the Mountains spun a spiral over to by where the bar was seated. It may have been a good thing I had no Blackrock sulfur stuck to me after leaving the Eastern Kingdoms, for many more objects were easily combustible to leave the containers. A heavy stock with a studded iron tail end burst forth. Also, it was additionally a good thing that I chose to wear boots, as the wooden stock obeyed gravity. Gravy took a step away with a fixed stare watching what many could translate as chaos for one’s situational awareness, and it was a good thing The Wyvern’s Tail had an excellent menu waiting ahead of us.
A tin can with a strong flux inside stepped in a rocking back-and-forth rolling motion as a Hozen barrel might. The can seemed to roll a bit faster after falling over the edge of the kodo hair rug onto the wooden floor of the inn. A jeweling kit’s contents rattled and crashed as it’s box remained locked flinging forth from the opened luggage, thanks to a well organized Mr. Lockfast. A can of nightcrawlers unfortunately or fortunately, however you can picture this image, opened up upon the floor, and the earthworms segmented around in little squiggles.
Nufa kept watching; her expressions kept ranging from bewildered and ecstatic to morbidly frightened and shocked. A copper rod without runes dangled and tumbled down and out like the chute of a plant with upside down roots. Five bags of several mild spices enhanced the disorder by falling outwards in tiny leather bags. If I know Pezik’s cooking well enough, I can also remember sesame, cumin, turmeric, mustard and paprika are among his favorites. A copper tube containing a weak flux bumped into Gravy’s left toe on his left foot, still to our right, as he stood to the right of his employer.
Five rather simple bags of flour landed like pillows, but they slowly dipped like the sand bags raising the curtain at the beginning of the first act of a stage performance of Kharazan fame. The flours had the same tan burlap wrapping, but each was labeled differently with an arclight spanner painted on the label next to the text. I read silently watching as rice, corn, almond, bloodthistle, and rye toppled over the previously spilled ingredients. A white bottle with a red cloth tied to it’s lid to mark potential danger cascaded over a few objects before landing at Pezik’s feet. It was bleach, and it was good that none landed on Pezik’s flours. A skinning knife pinwheeled and pierced the rug with a sharp noise that made everyone but Pezik and I jump back from fright.
“When is the last time you cleaned those things out?” Gravy questioned us with an odious look on his face. Under the direction of Nufa he turned his head down to keep searching through the hodgepodge billowing out of our bags. A mining pick spun like a flipped coin next to the prone bartender. Gravy looked at me helplessly on his hands and knees. I twitched a bit trying to ignore the fact I was being watched while handling the supplies.
An herbalist’s spade surfed over the bags of flours. A fishing pole flew forth and its hooked lure latched onto one bag, and a farinaceous spill began to leak grainy matter over the rug. Pezik’s blacksmithing hammer thundered out from what I was holding a moment ago, and it fluffed up another bag of flour with a woof sound. I smiled, however the room's occupants were too occupied attempting to find Mr. Lockfast and I’s paperwork. Five crystal vials stealthily loomed out of the bags.
“What’s this one?” Herezegor, one of the men commanded to help, asked innocently.
I reached over and snatched it from his hands. The contents glittered within, and the turquoise liquid splashed in its glass enclosure. “You do not want that one…” I said in order to slip the Potion of Illusion into my own portable hole bag. My bag opened it’s void portal behind me as I chucked the vial over my right shoulder and behind my back into the ephemerally existing portal opening. I feared that if he drank the potion, he might have assumed the image of a night elf, gnome, or any other Alliance woman or man mysteriously appearing in the middle of an Orgrimmar inn next door to the Hall of the Brave, where plenty of grunts were ready to defend their city. “Take this!” I picked up another and handed it to him. Pezik punched my empty handed left arm.
“What?” I opened fire verbally to my associate.
Pezik whispered “S’that the one with the Sungrass and Ghost Mushroom?” and he looked at me with a serious countenance that reminded me of the counting house bankers neighboring the inn.
“No!” I whispered back, noticing the inn staff was too occupied by the catastrophic pick up duty, “I gave him the one with the Goldclover and the two Talandra’s Rose…”
“Oh.” He amiably agreed with a double-nod “Good for him!”
We both turned and kept watching the mess growing as the staff began to shovel through. A Durotar gust breezed into the inn. A few stacks of hundreds of light parchments soared into the air of the chamber room, and Gravy and Herezegor jumped and clawed at the papers in an attempt to catch the one we needed to check into the inn. Gravy caught one that was a vellum for an enchantment. The text on the paper facing roughly translated to spell out “Mongoose!” in the runic inscribed characters. I waved my finger to explain to him no, and I then traded him that vellum for a crimson tome with two brass clips along the spine and a brass ornament adorning the face of the book. Pezik nodded at Gravy and said unto him “You won’t regret givin' that one a read.” Gravy clumsily clutched the novel with an endearing hug.
“Wait till you find out that Marcus is-” Pezik punched my other arm. Now he was on my opposite side.
“Don’t spoil it, kid. Besides, they don’t know your spin on it!” Pezik winked at Nufa and she blushed from being in our presence. An ink set I acquired from a virtuoso zen master of the arts loftily landed upon a bag of flour after rolling out of one of the bags I had dropped. I acted surprised by raising both eyebrows and widening my eyes. Then, I pretended to chuckle slightly, because I felt honored by Pezik’s informal praise of my ability. Nufa, Gravy and Herezegor all looked at me. All three listened intently to Pezik and continued to be multitasking by still searching while staring at me.
“Are you a doctor?” Gravy asked, holding a few rolled bandages and an anti-venom pouch that split from the inventory with a shrug.
I swerved my shoulders to maintain eye contact with him, considering he was about one and a quarter meters taller than Pezik. I listened to Pezik’s thoughts with a quick Mind Vision spell, and he mentioned to himself: Gravy looks a bit blue… just sayin’! I shook my head and sunk my face into the glove covering my right palm. I paused for a moment, exhaled, then cast the same spell upon Gravy. He returned the favor: the shorter one looks a little green.
It soon was brought to my attention that we would be hiking in Azshara at dawn, and it was nothing less than exciting. Therefore, I took it upon myself to absorb the information released by these unspoken and unwritten conversations taking place within only the images surrounding us, and for the two of us being in a welcoming place like this was invigorating. I smelled a dish cooking from one of the tables' firepits, and the aromas of onion and garlic soon started filling the atmosphere. My familiar gnawed at my hat from my shoulder as soon as it landed, after it pounced up my equipment to take a seat upon my left platform called a shoulder. I blinked my eyes and reeled my head back while listening.
Edited by Carves on 6/17/2014 2:40 AM PDT
A pile of postcards on the table near the mail box where Madam Vee Luo is located gets your attention while you are at Shrine of Two Moons. On the postcards, you see a Pandaren inn located at Krasarang Wilds's Marista Village. You see all the races of the Horde and the Alliance are at this place enjoying a day at the beach, in the ocean or in doors.
Writings on the postcards catches your glimmering eyes and it says "Rest from the Siege of Orgrimmar and come have a summer off with us. Get well rested for your upcoming adventures with our Pandaren luxurious foods, beverages, games, rooms and more."
Edited by Zaelzim on 6/14/2014 4:19 AM PDT
((Been too busy to write for a while :( But here's something that will make you want to visit Pandaria))
“Roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer!” Where better to spend the summer than the very heartland of Pandaria? Come to the Valley of the Four Winds and see why both the Orgrimmar Guardian and The Gilnean Times (currently publishing in Stormwind) have declared the Valley to be “The place to see this year!”.
Like fishing? We have lakes, ponds, streams and rivers all packed with fish just waiting for you.
Want to try a working holiday? The Tillers Union can provide a holiday on a real working farm! Do as much or as little as you want and see where your food comes from. “This experience has been enlightening, to say the least!” - Farmer Yoon
How about exploring? We have guides from all over to show you around the Valley. Pandaren, Worgen, Tauren, Orcs and Draenei are here to give you your own personalised tour in the language of your choice. These guides, all adventurers in their own right, will take you through the Valley and beyond.
Appreciate a good meal? The Ironpaws are the greatest chefs in all Pandaria and nowhere else will you find more Ironpaws per square yard. Come for a month and eat dinner prepared by a different chef every night! Your taste buds will love you forever after this treat.
With a great meal why not have some beer? The Valley of the Four Winds is home to the Stormstout Brewery (tours daily). The legendary Chen Stormstout has brewed beer in the Valley and various beers made to his recipes are available everywhere. The dedicated beer taster should on no account pass up the chance to meet the various small brewers scattered around. Mudmug's Place is home to a unique brew made by Chen Stormstout's “beer brother”, Mudmug. Ella has a farm near the brewery and her brews are not to be missed. (Also available at the Stormstout Brewery)
For the historians among you, Lorewalker Cho and his fellows can sometimes be found in the Valley. They can tell you all about the stories from the history of Pandaria. (Call ahead to confirm availability)
For the more adventurous of you the Valley is a base to explore the Krasarang Wilds or head north to the high mountains of Kun-Lai. (We strongly recommend travelling with a guide)
If you're feeling active then climb the Path of a Hundred Steps and see how many you can count. At the top, relax with a cool drink at the Tavern In The Mists. You never know who you might bump into there.
If you come at the right time you can join in our tour to Turtle Beach in Krasarang and take part in the Wanderer's Festival. A festival for all those who follow their dreams, you are most definitely one of that group!
The Valley of the Four Winds, heart of Pandaria, heart of your vacation.
90 Human Warlock
You see a pile of postcards lay upon your doorstep as you get out of your house for a well deserved walk. You pick one of them up and you read, "Dear lovely stranger! As you may not know, you've been randomly selected to go to the beautiful, relaxing, and fun enjoyable time at the sunny Jaguero Isle in The Cape of Stranglethorn! Beaches, games, and just simply relaxing in the sun! Bring your family, as it is encouraged to do so! So come on down, have some fun, relax, or do some exploring of the isle! Don't be shy, we don't bite!
I never told you how I met Kalishnu? I thought everyone knew that story. We'd never have become friends, you know, being so different. Elf and gnome, mage and priest--totally different circles!
Well, if you really want to know, I'll tell you the whole thing. It was such a silly business. Embarrassing, really. But let me start at the beginning.
For weeks I had been closeted in my workroom in Ironforge, lost in the study of arcana and concocting new potions. I was hot on the trail of a new formulation and hadn't been sleeping much, but I was determined not to give up until I got it just right.
I was on my way to Barim's place to pick up some reagents, and perhaps a snort of Badlands bourbon at Stonefire, when I passed a mage I hadn't noticed before standing by the auction house under a banner: "Come Visit the Darkmoon Faire!"
All of a sudden I realized I was stressed, exhausted and starting to smell like moldy potpourri. I needed a break. Several of my friends had encouraged me to visit the Faire. They had told me of the carnival, the boardwalk, and what good sport it was to fish in the island waters. More than one had mentioned that a gnome of stunning beauty worked on the midway. As I stood there staring up at the banner, it seemed to me that a seaside holiday might be just what I needed. I also recalled that I was still single.
The Darkmoon mage was very tall. Human, don't you know. She assured me that she was an experienced teleportologist and could send me to the Faire with no dimensional disorientation. I was skeptical. Although at that time I was just beginning my study of portal magic, I had learned about the transdimensional stresses of a portal interface and their potential effect on sentient entities.
I had never before left Dun Morogh. The only journey I had ever made was when we all fled Gnomeregan and took refuge with the Dwarves. Don't look at me like that! It's true. I fly around on a dragon these days, and 'port most anywhere on a whim, but back then I was afraid of heights and too scared to climb up on a strider. I was a little nervous at the thought of Having an Adventure, but I really did need to get away and I figured the transit couldn't be any worse than "ultrasafe," if you know what I mean.
"I'll be right back!" I said, and dashed home. I had no idea what to wear, there being no beaches in Dun Morogh, but I wanted my Tiffany Cartier fishing rod and my Lure Master Tackle Box. I was in such a flurry of excitement! Denoram just stared at me, her tail erect and her eyes wide as I threw open drawers.
What? Oh, Denoram is my cat. What good is a wizard without a cat? I'm sure she thought I was possessed. Ha! Half of Ironforge thinks she's possessed. Mention her name to any guard and they'll start looking for a hole to bolt through. But I digress.
I hurried back to the auction house and told the mage I was ready. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed. You're going to have a marvelous time, I promise. Now, there will be a small fee for this service …" Of course. I gave her some silvers and braced myself.
The next thing I knew, I wasn't in Ironforge anymore. I was standing before a space enclosed by a rail fence. Outside the fence were many trees of kinds I didn't recognize. A road passed quite close by, joined by another. A bustling human village stood at the crossroads. Many people of all kinds were appearing where I had arrived, and still more were climbing down from gryphons near the small smithy. Humans! Elves! Draenei! Most of them headed straight for the fenced area. I didn't quite know where I was—just that the air felt hot and heavy—but I did know exactly how a grain of wheat feels after it passes between two millstones. Hmph! So much for "no disorientation." I would learn to do better! Denoram gave me a look, as if to say, "What did we do that for?"
What's that? Oh, I can't leave her at home, you know. I tried once when I went off ice fishing. The Council of Three Hammers requested that I not do so again. The captain of the guard delivered the request in person. Now where was I?
Inside the fence were some brightly colored tents and even more brightly colored people doing very odd things. Breathing fire and tossing sharp knives in the air and catching them! I gaped. Was the Darkmoon Faire run by dragons? In the center of the space stood a large portal which seethed and crackled with arcane energies. To think I would soon learn to create such things!
My slack-jawed stupor was broken by a charming lass waiting by the opening in the fence. "Welcome to the Darkmoon Faire! Is this your first time visiting us? I'm happy to answer any questions. Or just step through the portal there." I smiled shyly and stepped toward the portal. "You have a great day now!" she said with an answering smile as I crossed the interface.
This time there really was almost no sensation on transit. Very well done, I thought. I was again surrounded by woods, but these were of a very different character. Dark and eerie. The blue sky over the human village had been replaced by a stormy overcast. A gnome waited to offer complimentary mounts. His striders were twice as tall as either of us.
"I believe I'll walk," said I. "Suit yourself," he returned. "Just be sure to follow the signs and stay on the path. The wolves don't come near the path."
Wolves? I glanced warily about. The mount handler stifled a chuckle. "Be seeing you!"
I started down the sloping path toward the tents and lights I could just see far below me through the darkling woods. I didn't see or hear any wolves, but there were odd sounds emanating from the forest, and numerous eyes staring at me. Two of them were Denoram's. She had clearly decided that there's no place like home and was looking for something to shred. Mayhem tends to calm her. I hitched up my robe and pressed on.
My walk through the wood was uneventful and led me to the brightly lit entrance to the Faire. There was another greeter, a grey Forsaken woman--I had never seen one of Sylvanas's people, but she couldn't be anything else. She seemed as well fitted to greet those arriving through the dark forest as the cheery gnome lassie had been to welcome arrivals at the portal. I showed her the voucher I had received from the mage in Ironforge and she pointed down the crowded midway.
"Dark Lady watch over you!" the greeter said as I followed her direction. I wasn't quite sure that this wasn't a curse, so I murmured a quick cantrip, just in case.
I passed a goblin selling tokens for the games and an orc woman who offered me a large padded hammer. I saw a tauren in the area behind her using a similar hammer to whack stuffed gnolls that popped up from barrels. The game looked like fun, but I had just seen something far more interesting.
Just past the gnoll game was a large cannon! "Transportation to the other end of the Faire!" This was uttered by the most delectable creature I had ever laid eyes on. Miss Maxima Blastenheimer. I was smitten--no priest could do a better job. She smiled at me. Suddenly I was flying higher than any cannonball had ever flown.
"Let me fly you to the boardwalk, handsome!" I offered my voucher. She giggled. "No, you need a token. But you want to take that voucher to Gelvas Grimegate. You'll find him a bit further down the midway on this side."
"I'll be back in a minute," I stammered.
"Very well, then!" The cannoneer offered another explosive smile as I set off.
The carnival midway was jammed with fairegoers and carnies. Such an amazing variety of sights and sounds and smells! I had never experienced anything like it. Everywhere you looked there was some tempting treat or a souvenir or another game to play. It did not take me long to find the booth with a goblin offering prizes. "Mr. Grimegate?" I inquired. "I got what you need!" he announced, seizing my voucher and handing me a small book. "A Darkmoon Adventurer's guide! Essential in all your travels. You don't know what you've been missing, but you'll soon find out if you read that guide and carry with you."
"Thank you very much!" I said.
"There's more!" he exclaimed, handing me a sheaf of tickets. "You can save those and redeem them for valuable prizes! You can have this for just one ticket!" He offered me a tiny purple box. It looked like a little snuffbox. Then he opened it. The inside was cavernous. It looked big enough to hold everything in my backpack! I'm a sucker for clever magics like that. "Sold!" I said, handing back one of the tickets.
"Play all the games and you'll get tickets from each one. Then you can get all sorts of prizes! Now go--go! Go have fun!"
I hurried back to the cannon. I offered a ticket to the gnome of my dreams. "No, no," she giggled. "You need a token. From the booth by the entrance." I smiled sheepishly and trotted over to the booth where a goblin was selling small purses.
"Aha! A potential customer!" Her eyes gleamed as she rubbed her hands in anticipation. I bought the biggest sack of tokens and rushed back to the cannon.
I presented a token to Miss Blastenheimer with a flourish. "Launch me!" I cried. She attached a pair of folding wings to my shoulders and showed me a cord. "Pull it before you reach the target, but NOT before you're over water! We're not responsible for casualties, but services at the healing tent are complimentary should you need them."
I climbed up the stairs to the cannon's mouth, carrying Denoram. She struggled to get away, but I held on tight and stuffed her into my robe. I used to carry her in my pocket when she was a kitten. She began to wail and threatened me with the Wrath of Doom.
Miss Blastenheimer held a long taper. "I hope these wings work," I told her. "I haven't quite mastered that Slow Fall spell."
"Interesting," she remarked, and touched flame to fuse.
With a deafening explosion, I shot into the sky over the Faire. I could see the entire midway and the boardwalk! The Great Sea! I had never imagined anything so vast! My ears rang as the wind rushed over me, rustling my wings. I could see the target I needed to hit to win a prize. As I began to pass over the boardwalk, I took one hand off Denoram and reached for the release cord.
Denoram, instantly clawed her way up and out of my robe. I grabbed at her, but my finger was looped in the release and all at once, my cat escaped and plummeted toward the beach--and I followed her as my wings left me. I couldn't remember the Slow Fall spell. I closed my eyes.
I landed on something and then rolled onto the sand. I saw nothing but stars and felt nothing but pain. I heard Denoram yowling.
"This is hardly the conventional method of seeking an introduction," said a deep and melodious voice. I tried to sit up and immediately gave it up as pain blossomed in every part of me. Denoram pushed her face against my cheek, purring frantically.
"Do not move. I shall heal you." A green glow surrounded me and my pain ebbed. I could feel things moving from wrong places to right places.
I tried again to sit up. This time it worked. I found myself looking at a tall elf. Kaldorei, he was. He cast a healing spell on Denoram. Then on himself. I could see deep scratches on his face and hands fading, and I knew where he'd gotten them.
"I'm so sorry," I offered.
"Evidently," he replied dryly. Then he laughed. I laughed with him. It was so ridiculous.
"Drozil, at your service," I said with a proper Gnomeregan bow.
"I am Kalishnu," said the elf. "Forgive me, but I should prefer to dispense with such services as you have offered this afternoon."
We looked at each other again and started laughing. And laughing. I think Denoram might have laughed, too.
And that's how I met Kalishnu. We've been the best of friends ever since. We meet at Faire almost every month for some fishing and to catch up. I've visited him in Dolanaar, and he's been to see me in Ironforge. We have a lot in common, despite how different we are. And we both enjoy watching people's reaction when they see us together.
Come to Faire next month! Look for us along the shore under the boardwalk. We'll be fishing. Or maybe I'll be chatting with a certain cannoneer.
Edited by Drozil on 6/18/2014 9:51 PM PDT
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