Go to the city, my father said, you'll find your way there, my father said.
Join a clan, join a guild, make something of yourself.
Yancanfu, named so because his nutty old father claimed to have lived on a floating island filled with...shaking his head with disbelief...Pandas, and liked the name so much that he gave his only son.
Laughing to himself, Yancanfu, oh well, can't be all that bad, can it?
A former pig herder, going to Orgrimmar to make a name for myself, maybe even join the city guard.
His father taught him all those interesting hand-to-hand fighting moves, but his favorite was the staff, bo stick, whatever...and, as things would have it, as a young Orc who made his passage to adulthood through the valley of trials, Yancanfu thought that there wasn't anything he couldn't overcome.
Which is how he found himself passing through the gates of Orgrimmar, and the long tunnel through the wall.
He had never seen Orgrimmar. The slaughtered pigs would be salted and loaded onto carts with the other farmers pigs, and the whole wagon train would disappear towards Razor hill, the nearest fortified Horde outpost of which he had only been too once.
The city was crowded...dragons mounts of all sorts and colors, his young eyes bright with awe stared at all the colors, sights, and sounds of a massive city.
Lost, he looked around, and saw what must be a city guard, though it seemed everyone was in armor of one sort or another, with tabards showing a variety of clans, and guilds. Asking the guard where he could find a job, the massive Orc grunted, and with his axe still in his hand pointed to an over papered wood wall near the central building. Yancanfu unconsciously bowed to the guard in gratitude, but missed the guards response of rolling his eyes.
Staring at the board he soon became thankful that his mother *made* him learn to read and write. There was so many postings on the board that soon he became lost in the haze of "join our glorious clan for the might and strength of the Horde, death before dishonor!" or "Don't be a fool, be the tip of the spear for the Horde, join now!"
Sighing, he grounded his staff in the dirt, leaned heavily on it as he stared at the many postings. A presence next to him made him look over.
Standing there, serene and peaceful as a tree in a meadow was what his father described to him...a Pandaren. Yancanfu couldn't help but stare.
The Pandaren looked over at the young monk, smiled, bowed as his father told him was the proper bow, and said, "I should hope so for both our sakes. Yours, for your sanity, and mine because I would very much like to be alive." The Panda laughed, and palmed a gold coin into Yancanfu's hand.
"That's so you can find peace for a night till you can find your place." And then the Panda disappeared into a larger crowd of Pandas.
Staring at the Panda's for a while, perhaps to ensure he wasn't crazy, Yancanfu turned back to the board to see a heavily armored Orc with a clan tabard scanning the board. He watched the Orc rifle through the layers of postings till he found the one he was looking for, pulled it out, taking out a nail, he punched the nail through the upper portion of the posting with his plate gauntleted fist. The Orc took a step back, looked at the eye level posting, nodded with a grunt, and walked away.
Yancanfu stepped up to the resurfaced posting, and read it...hmm...Stormfist clan. Father always spoke lovingly about his old Clan...perhaps I can join this clan. Taking out his writing implements he wrote down the names of the clan's leader, Warchief Ugannar, and his lieutenants.
Now to find these Orcs.
Father said that the best way to find someone was to let everyone know that you were looking for them...so...pulling on the sleeve of a nearby figure who seemed wrapped up in fine silks, if a bit musty around the edges he'd start with...
The skeletal undead with dried skin, and bared jawbone and teeth rasped out a harsh sounding, "what do you want, Orc?"
Yancanfu could only stare at the undead human..."sorry, I...uh...sorry."
"Leave me be, bumpkin." The undead turned back to his companion to resume their discussion.
Shocked, he decided the best place to go was to the inn and employ that gold coin in a couple of ales...as his father would say, for medicinal purposes only.
((edit: forgot to put "Stormfist" in))
Edited by Yancanfu on 11/2/2012 9:12 AM PDT