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Mordiver
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Mordiver
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((First Draft))

 

Things have gotten dark lately, since my chance (what luck!) encounter with the Son of Teranas, the would-be ruler of Lordaeron.

There was time, a much simpler time it now seems, when I was content living under the mountain. Ever since I was a wee lad our family lived near the great Ironforge but we moved there before I was able to form any memory of a time away from it. I always loved it there, being surrounded by rock, the clang of the anvil shattering my ears and the smell of melted iron like the sweetest flower to my nose.

Even as a lad it was so. While I spent a few summers visiting family friends who had moved to the Peak and had a great time there; even got comfortable (if not gracious) riding gryphons. And I must admit I enjoyed it and in my adult life I've been know to track down a few beast to ride. But nothing will ever fill my soul like the sounds and smells of the Great Forge.

Sadly, like the best mug of ale after a hard day's work, my soul recently found itself emptied by the most evil, cold person one should never meet. Damn you Arthas! Damn you to the fires of Ragnaros!

 

Contrary to what some might think there is nothing heroic, epic or fated when it comes to how I became a shell of a living. I used to work at one of the many city smithies and most days we would keep to ourselves, staying under the mountain away from the surface folks. A few times a year however we did get big orders from Humans looking for good weapons and armors, and fewer time even we had too much stock that we needed to unload. This was such a day and there was to be great festivities in Hearthglen for the Midsummer Festival. So we gathered the supplies, packed the mule and I went on the road.

We'd heard rumors of King Teranas Menethil II dying and maybe his son was the culprit but it all seemed like rumors and we Dwarven folk tend to keep to ourselves so I never paid it no mind. Much to my detriment, and so I was on the road.

When I reached the vicinity of Hearthglen, in hindsight, I should have turned away; there was a putrid smell in the air. But I didn't and I soon found myself in a mess up to my mustache and more!

 

The result of that day is what you have before you, Melstrom, Death Knight.



Last edited by Mordiver on Wed Jan 01, 2014 2:20 am; edited 4 times in total


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