Another Piece of Chapter II

The Dwarven District in Stormwind City

Bas Oakthorn awoke to the painful sensation of someone slapping him, and between blows managed to see he was nowhere near where he last remembered being. The dark and dank surroundings told him he was in a cellar somewhere, and probably where no one would think to find him. Bas realized he could not move, bound to a chair by thick ropes around his arms and legs.

He had been running through Stormwind’s Dwarven District, somewhere near the Deeprun Tram, and others had been chasing him. They’d wanted something- a necklace he no longer had- and had been pursuing him for two days. But how did he end up here?

Briefly the image of a horse-drawn cart came into his mind- it had pulled out in front of him while he was looking back at the men chasing him, and he’d run face-first into the cart. It must have knocked him out, because the next thing he remembered was waking up hear. That, and his head was pounding.

The slapping continued until a voice said, “‘S’enough, he’s awake, can’ you see?”

It came from a figure seated in the corner. He stood up as the thug hitting Bas backed away- tall and stocky, with thick hair covering his face., his thick arms threatened to tear the sleeves of his shirt, and he smelled strongly of dwarven ale. The man grabbed a chair, placed in front of Bas, and sat down.

“Where is it, Bas?”

Bas clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Krant.”

Krant spat on the ground. “You know about my temper, Bas, so don’t get stupid. Where is the necklace?”

“I lost it. Must have dropped it somewhere in the city. Why don’t you go look for it?”

For his snide Bas received a punch across his jaw. For the second time in the day blood leaked into his mouth from where his teeth cut into his cheeks. This he spit onto the floor at Krant’s feet.

“You won’t find it, Krant. It’s out of your reach. I know what you want with it, what your boss wants with it, and he won’t get it. He can try all he wants but he’ll never get it, and without it, he’ll be as powerless and impotent as ever.”

From behind Bas, a cold, cruel laugh rang throughout the cellar. In an instant, all Bas’ fake courage he had tried to show Krant dissolved away. Even Krant and his two thugs seemed to quail a bit.

“Your tongue is almost as sharp as your nose, Bas. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to avoid trouble for so long.”

Bas didn’t recognize this new voice, but like the laugh, it chilled his very insides. There was a harsh quality to it, as if there was no shred of kindness inside the man who spoke. At once, Bas felt a very real threat from this voice, to him still disembodied, and he tried to gather his bravado again.

“I said I’m not talking, and you can’t do anything about it.”

Bas couldn’t see it, but the man replaced what had been an ominous smile with a sneer. He looked at Krant.

“We have no time for this.” As he spoke this statement, he strode forward, stood right behind Bas, and grasped the prisoner’s head with both hands.

Bas opened his mouth to let out a scream, but no sound came out. In his head, he felt a white-hot pain, the intensity of which he could never have imagined. It was as if every hair was burning, the flames crawling down into his skull and lashing at his brain with a thousand whips. Bas believed if he could touch his cheek, his very fingers would turn to ash at once. More than the physical pain, though, Bas thought his very mind was being ripped apart, torn by some intangible harrow. He’d had no time to prepare for this mental onslaught, and was thus laid bare, in mind and body, for this torment of which he could see no end.

Then all at once, it was over. Bas was able to open his eyes, though his vision was blurry and everything seemed to spin a little. He could feel some residual pain, though it seemed more like the soreness a long day of physical labor. He noticed he was sweating, and his breathing was deep. Bas started at the sound of a voice right in his ear.

“Now, Bas, let us try again. You have information I need but won’t give up. It’s there in your head, hidden somewhere in a dark corner. I will have that information, and what you just experienced is a demonstration of how I will assault your mind until I get what I want. So, I ask you this- will you play along with us or do you need more....convincing?”

Bas clenched his jaw, quickly running through the situation. Five years ago in Southshore, Berdin had given him the pendant for safekeeping, and until now there had been no problems. Somehow someone had learned about the pendant and tracked him down to Stormwind. Krant had approached him several times asking to pay handsomely for the pendant, which he claimed was an heirloom, but the veil over the lie was a little too thin.

Bas knew there were other pieces of jewelry that combined with the pendant to grant a wearer abilities no ordinary person would have. He didn’t know about the nature of these powers, and when asked Berdin had always deflected the questions or changed the subject. Bas also wasn’t sure how many of the pieces these brigands had, but he was determined to keep the last one out of their hands, no matter the cost. He shook his head in response to his tormentor’s question.

“Cut him loose,” the still-faceless voice commanded. Krant’s look was just as confused as Bas, who was caught off guard by this order. But Krant clearly didn’t want to cross the one giving the command, and so pulled out a knife and cut Bas’ bonds. Before Bas could even think about trying an escape, he found himself flung forward as the tormentor kicked his chair hard from behind, sending both spinning to the ground. As Bas tried to get up, he felt the man grab him by the hair and with unnatural strength and speed lift him off the ground. The tormentor threw Bas against the far wall, and the latter crumpled in a dazed heap. The next thing he knew, Bas felt a hand around his neck and pain as he was pushed against the same wall. The face that now looked at him stole his breath.

It was like looking at a cutting board- dozens of scars of all sizes adorned the face of the man Bas know knew belonged to his tormentor. The man’s face was gaunt and pale, like his skin had rotted away and new skin had been stretched over his skull. Strange markings Bas didn’t recognize had been etched into the man’s forehead and on his jaw. By far the most unsettling thing about the face, though, was the eyes. Though they burned bright with obvious rage, it was like there was nothing in them, just a strange emptiness. Like daggers they bored into Bas’ eyes, and he found that no matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn’t.

“I can draw the information from you like poison from a snake bite, Bas. Are you sure you really want to go this far?” The malice on his face was almost palpable.

Collecting every ounce of courage he could, Bas shook his head. The other man didn’t even blink or break eye contact, but instead took his place behind Bas’ seat again, placing his hands over the prisoner’s ears. Bas could only make out a few mumbled words of some unknown incantation before the furious pain erupted in his head again.

This time was different, though- Bas could still make no sound because of the pain’s intensity, but he could see images- no, memories- flashing before his clenched-shut eyes. These were recent memories, just from the past few hours. He saw the bridge in the Canals where he spent last night...walking along the roads through Cathedral Square...breakfast at the Salted Hog tavern...ducking into one of the smaller churches near the Cathedral after seeing one of the men looking for him...now at the Harbor, sensing his pursuers closing in...looking for somewhere to hide the necklace.

Bas now realized, between waves of agony, what was happening- his tormentor was extracting every memory he could until finding out what Bas had done with the necklace. He tried, used every bit of will he could muster to try and stop the images, to protect them from being revealed, but nothing he could do stopped the advancing flashes of memory.

With a sharp pang of guilt, he saw the woman and her daughter he’d overheard buying passage on a merchant ship...they were leaving in the evening...he offered the necklace to the girl, her mother smiling at his generosity...now he was returning to the Salted Hog...behind him, his pursuers, to Bas’ relief unaware of what he’d just done...

The pain stopped. Bas felt more sweat all over his body, his breathing heavy again, but he couldn’t open his eyes- he was too weak. He felt as if he had lost all ability to move, and when he tried to flex even the smallest of muscles, they barely responded. He heard his tormentor barking orders to Krant and the others, telling them who and what to look for, threatening them should they fail. Then heavy footsteps approached him.

“Bas, you should have listened to me,” the cruel, cold voice said again. “You could have avoided all this pain. And where did your bravery get you? We have the information we wanted, and we will get the necklace as originally planned. So all your effort, all your pathetic time has been wasted.”

Bas felt the same cold hands on his head again, and somewhere deep inside him knew what was about to happen. But he lacked the strength to offer any resistance. He heard the voice right next to his ear.

“Such a waste.”

And the white-hot pain started all over again.

Excerpt from Chapter II

“NIKOLAS! GET THEM AWAY FROM HERE!”

Nikolas could hear his father’s voice as clearly as if they had been standing next to each other. But turning to look, he saw Altus hundreds of yards away. His father was standing alone, in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by burning trees. The tops were ablaze but did not burn away, and Nikolas could feel the heat even at this distance.

Behind Altus, an innumerable host of skeletons and monsters crawled across the land like cockroaches, consuming every living thing under their dread march. A light, weak but visible, shone around Altus, as if defying the darkness growing around him.

Heeding his words, Nikolas turned back to the mass of people his father expected him to save. But instead he found himself face to face with his father. The danger still around them, he reached to pull Altus to safety, but found him to be out of reach. Nikolas tried to walk toward him, but his steps were slow

and labored, as if tied to heavy weights, and it became too difficult. Falling to the ground, Nikolas looked up to see those same people he had wanted to save standing shoulder to shoulder with his father, the undead monsters coming ever closer.

He tried yelling at them to run, to turn and see the approaching threat, but his mouth screamed only silence. Like a waterfall, a thick darkness fell upon his father and all else, pitching Nikolas into a black fog that seemed to last days.

When it cleared, blown away as if by a wind, Nikolas stood alone. He saw mounds of bones and skulls and rotted clothing all around, and felt the warmth in his hands and feet spill into the ground around him. A shadow overhead covered him, and he looked up. A beast, fel and cruel, was flying down toward him.

Nikolas couldn’t move his feet. He could do nothing but stare at this descending horror, its massive and raking claws snapping greedily. Soon, any moment now, it would take him, and this nightmare would finally be over...

Nikolas’ eyes snapped open, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the pillow and mattress. His breathing was heavy, his fists clenched; it was the same each time he awoke from the same nightmare. Sometimes he became aware that he was dreaming while still asleep, and could tear himself awake. At other times, he could only wait for his nightmares to reach their terrifying end before finding his way back to reality.

Sitting up in bed, Nikolas looked around his room at the Pig and Whistle in the heart of Stormwind City’s Old Town; while many of his shipmates chose to save coins by sleeping on board the Gambit while in port, Nikolas preferred to enjoy a softer bed and better food for even a single night. A few rays of morning light spilled in around the curtains; outside he could hear the daybreak bustle of activity, the smell of baking bread and smoked meats filling his nostrils. Steam seeping in from the next room told him the staff had just prepared his bath. He rubbed his eyes and face, getting rid of the last traces of sleep, and

climbed into the large bath basin, spending the next half hour relaxing in the hot water and letting the steam clear his senses. When he finished, Nikolas dressed, gathered his things, and went downstairs to find some breakfast. After eating some fruit and a small bowl of porridge and honey, he checked out of

his room and walked out into the morning.

Immediately he found himself swept into the crowds of people scurrying from shop to shop, his ears assaulted by merchants shouting offers on all sort of wares: food and drink, clothing and armor, toys and trinkets. Taking a second to orient himself, Nikolas set off toward the harbor on the opposite side of the city.

As he walked along Stormwind’s cobbled streets, he paused at the occasional shop to pick up a few gifts for his sister- a painting and a box of Stormwind nougats, her favorite as a child- and a book for his mother- “Arithmancy and Azeroth: A Parallel History.” He also bought a few boxes of Bellara’s Nutterbars, his personal choice for candy, and some raptor jerky, imported from Stranglethorn.

Looking down at Stormwind Harbor

His purchases in hand, Nikolas finally reached the northeast corner of Stormwind and exited the arched stone roof covering the road running between the Park and Cathedral Square to find himself in full view of Stormwind Harbor. Below, a long row of docks and wharfs stretching hundreds of meters along the shoreline. Even from this distance, some few hundred yards away, he could hear the sounds of a busy port: deckhands yelling at yardmasters, bells marking watch changes, quartermasters barking orders at hired hands hauling provisions onto ships preparing to leave.

A cool morning breeze brought the smell of salt water to Nikolas, and he smiled. He’d only spent the last few years of his life at sea, and yet it felt like home to him. Out on the ocean, Nikolas was able to enjoy a peace and tranquility he’d never found anywhere else. He welcomed his role on the Gambit as look-out; his shipmates hated the duty- it made most of them severely seasick and for the most part it was very dull work. Nikolas, on the other hand, loved the peace and quiet, and the rocking didn’t bother him at all.

Down on the dockyard, Nikolas immediately found the distinguishable outline of the Queen’s Gambit and made his way toward it. A converted frigate, she had modified to a;low for more cargo space. The keel had been reshaped allow the Gambit to keep her speed in spite of the added weight. She had nearly a full complement of dwarven cannons on either side, making her a tough prize for any pirate or privateer who dared try their luck.

As he reached the top of the gangway leading to the Gambit’s deck, First Mate Gil Glast met him with a smile on his face. “Ready to get underway, Mr. Tien?”

“Aye, sir, ready to get back into open water, away from all this rest and relaxation,” Nikolas replied. He walked up to Gil and patted his stomach. “Looks like you had a bit too much rest this time.”

Gil gave him a friendly sneer. “Keep that tongue civil or I’ll find a duty for you even you won’t like. Cap’n wants to see you first chance you get.”

Nikolas nodded. “Be down as soon as I drop off my things.” He headed for the stair leading down to the crew quarters while Gil turned and got back to yelling at other crew members.

A frigate similar in model to the Queen's Gambit

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” Nikolas asked, poking his head through the cabin’s partially open door.

Captain Valnara Wavecrest turned from looking out the windows to him. “Yes, Nikolas, please come in,” she said. He did so and walked toward the windows himself, standing at informal attention before her. Wavecrest was a high elf, descended from the Highborne who came to the Eastern Kingdoms thousands of years ago from the distant continent of Kalimdor. Her eyes glowed a soft blue, and her blond hair, light complexion and lithe figure could captivate any man who looked at her. When he had first come aboard five years ago, Nikolas couldn’t help but stare at Wavecrest’s beauty, often too long which led to some awkward moments. The captain took those moments in stride and never made anyone feel more uncomfortable than the did to themselves. Nikolas had grown accustomed to the captain and her beauty in the years since, though he never failed to recognize her stunning qualities and appreciate them.

“We’ve taken on some passengers for this leg, Nikolas,” she began. Nikolas thought there was

nothing unusual about this- the Gambit often had passengers aboard, their fares a way to make a little extra money- and wondered why Wavecrest was making a point of it. “There are two of them I’d like you to look after for the duration of our trip.”

There was the rub, Nikolas thought to himself. “So that’s why you wanted to see me,” he said with a smile. “I’m to be a nanny, then.”

Wavecrest gave him a mildly reproving look. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, you said ‘look after,’ not ‘keep an eye on.’ That means they’re needy and require coddling of some sort.”

“‘They’ are a mother and her young daughter,” Wavecrest replied. “She is sailing north to visit her ailing father.”

“Why aren’t they on a passenger ship? Why us?” Nikolas asked.

“She said she needed to leave as soon as possible. We’re one of the next to head north, and we’re one of the fastest ships to get her there,” Wavecrest answered, showing a bit of pride at the last part of her statement. Seeing Nikolas’ thinly-veiled annoyance at having to watch out for the passengers, she took a step closer and softened her tone. “I know this isn’t something you want to do, Nikolas, but I’m asking this as a favor. This woman- she’s scared and very nervous, about her father’s health no doubt, but I also sense she’s very unsure about riding with us. She seems very kind and her daughter acts a complete angel. I want you to simply be ready in case they need anything. You’re the friendliest person on this ship, and they may need that at some point. Will you do this for me?”

Nikolas sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course, Captain. You know I can’t say no.”

“That’s why I keep you on board, Mr. Tien,” Wavecrest said, a twinkle in her eye. Nikolas smiled in return and turned to leave.

“One more thing, please,” the captain said, and Nikolas looked back at her. “I told the woman you’d

help her with her belongings. She says she’s planning an extended visit and will have a lot of luggage. Her name is Alira Stone, and she’ll wait for you at the Rusty Razor Inn. You know where that is, I trust.”

Nikolas rolled his eyes this time. “If I had permission to speak freely, I’d say you’re pushing it. But I don’t, so I won’t.” With a wink, he left the cabin.

Looking south along the docks of Stormwind Harbor

Shadow's Will, Chapter I

Northshire Valley

Nikolas Tien knew it was a losing battle, but he tried anyway to fight the tears welling up in his eyes. The first of them fell down his cheek as he knelt down to brush moss off the tombstone in front of him. It wasn’t difficult- the moss was soft and lightly attached, falling easily to the ground as Nikolas touched it. When he finished, he sat back on the grass beside the grave, barely able to read the name in the twilight:

Altus Galor Tien

Knight of the Order of the Silver Hand

Sacrificed his life defending the

Free people of Azeroth from the Scourge

It had been five years, almost to the day, since Nikolas’ father was killed at Darrowshire, keeping the Undead at bay while villagers and soldiers alike ran for their lives. Nikolas had tried to stay and help, but the look his father gave him said everything: that he needed Nikolas to make sure everyone got away safely, even if it cost Altus his life.

Nikolas had watched as that price was paid- an Abomination, a grotesque collection of body parts fused into a giant monstrosity, had knocked Altus into a wall with one swipe of its maul. When he didn’t see his father get up, Nikolas knew it was too late. It took every ounce of his will not to go running back, but he knew what his father expected him to do.

So he had run, like everyone else, fleeing the dark horror of the Scourge, fighting when necessary to survive. There hadn’t even been a chance to go back for his father’s body. His only solace at the time had come knowing he had done as Altus had asked, had fulfilled his father’s dying wish. But that comfort was short-lived, and the memories of that day had followed Nikolas and haunted his nightmares since.

The tombstone here at the Northshire Abbey had been placed at the request of Nikolas’ mother, Naya. Altus had trained to become a priest of the Holy Light here; he and Naya had been married in the chapel here; Nikolas and his sister, Katia, were born here. This was the place where the Tien family had hoped to call home. Those dreams were shattered when the Horde arrived.

Nikolas stood and wiped his eyes. This was the first time he’d come to Northshire, though his mother had invited him often. Nikolas had used his responsibilities on the merchant ship Queen’s Gambit as an excuse, but the truth was that he’d been avoiding his mother since Altus’ death. He had never been able to shake the feeling that his mother blamed him for not going back, for not even trying to save his father. Nikolas knew it was all probably in his head, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. Only in the realization that five years had passed already did Nikolas muster up the courage to come to Northshire.

With one last glance at the tombstone, standing over a grave with no body, Nikolas turned and walked toward the abbey, where the priests had graciously given him a room for the night. The inside of the abbey was nearly empty, populated only by the odd monk or priestess sitting in meditation or deep thought. Nikolas walked as quietly as he could so as not to disturb them.

Moonlight flowed into Nikolas’ room on the west side of the abbey as he walked in, taking his shows off and leaving them by the door. He dressed for bed, knowing this was much earlier than usual for him to go to sleep. Still, he felt tired, weighed down by the memory of his father’s death and the grief that came this time every year. As he laid his head to his pillow, he hoped that those memories wouldn’t invade his dreams, but knowing full well they probably would.

Alterac Mountains

Hundreds of miles away, far north of Northshire or Stormwind, driving rain obscured any moonlight that would have shone on the Alterac Mountains. It had been raining for three straight days now, and the man now huddled in a thick canvas tent again cursed whatever power or deity was responsible for such miserable weather.

He had been waiting here for two of those rainy days, high in the mountains where few would have dared go for any meeting, no matter how important. The man knew, though, that the remote location would ensure privacy, something he greatly valued as a purveyor of services considered by many to be less than savory. He cared little for popular opinions, however; he knew that while the efforts he led were illegal, they were of noble and fair intent. Like his colleagues, the man simply wanted to reclaim what had been taken from him unfairly.

A shout from outside told him his guest had arrived. He wrapped a thick cloak around his shoulders, pulled the hood over his head and stepped outside. Through the rain he could see his guards gathered at the head of the trail leading up to the small clearing, surrounded on three sides by high cliffs. Beyond them, the outline of a mounted rider was barely visible; the man watched as that rider dismounted and was escorted nearer by the guards. Both men then took seats below a canvas overhang attached to the host’s tent.

The newcomer had the look that would make all but those who lived in the dark places of society shiver. Rough stubble did little to hide the numerous scars covering the man’s face; his eyes moved about quickly, as if expecting an ambush at any moment; and his breath smelled strongly of dwarven ale. His half-open mouth showed broken and missing teeth, glistening half from rain, half from spittle. He had a wheezy kind of breathing, like he had run up the mountain rather than rode on a horse.

“You got my money?” the newcomer asked, his gravelly voice loud and abrasive against the constant sound of rain. His sneer made it even more clear than the question that he wanted to conclude business quickly.

“Show me what I’m willing to pay so much for first,” was the response, as terse and impatient as the man who had waited long for this transaction.

With a growl of irritation, the newcomer reached into his cloak. The guards surrounding him moved their hands, almost as one, to their swords, ready to draw and take action if this stranger tried anything dangerous. But all he pulled out from a pocket was a small box, wooden and aged, about the size of a fist.

“The money, if you please.” The man holding the box glared hard at the man he expected money from. But the buyer didn’t shrink.

“Open it. I need to see it if I’m to pay so handsomely for it.”

Grumbling again, the scruffy man opened the box and held it out for his buyer to see. To himself, he mused on why this trinket was of such interest. It was a simple ring, unadorned and hardly ornate, though clearly made of fine silver. The buyer, however, hoped the man holding the ring didn’t know what it was he held in his hands. If he did, he surely would ask for more, and the buyer was in no mood to bargain or haggle. He looked up at one of the guards.

“Give him the money,” he ordered. The guard pulled a pouch from under his cloak, bulging with silver coins. The newcomer’s eyes lit up with greed as he took the bag and felt how heavy it was. He got up to leave, but was pushed back down into his seat by the guard who had given him the money.

“Not just yet,” the buyer said, staring at the ring in his hands. “I need to be sure this is what I paid for.”

The newcomer spat. “It’s what you wanted, alright. I don’t like you questioning my honest nature like that.”

The buyer scoffed. “I’m certain you’ve never had an honest nature, now keep you mouth shut for a minute.”

The seller opened his mouth to protest, but looked around at the guards and thought better of it. Turning his attention back to his buyer, he saw the man take the ring from the box and weigh it in his hands. He then reached into his cloak, pulled something out and hold it up next to the ring: it was another ring, similar in shape but slightly darker in color. The seller’s breath caught in his chest- did the color difference mean the ring wasn’t what the other man wanted.? The buyer’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to his guest.

“You may go. I am satisfied you found what I wanted,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

The seller got up quicker than he might normally have; something about his host suddenly unsettled him, and he wanted nothing more than to be far away right now. Gathering his cloak around him, he returned to his horse, got on and rode toward the mouth of the small clearing.

The buyer’s chief guard watched the scruffy man ride off. “That heavy purse will slow him down,” he said.

Turning back to the tent entrance, the boss gave a nod and went inside. As he settled onto his cot, he heard the sound of a bowstring being drawn and released, followed by a distant yelp of pain. He ignored all this however, his mind now singly upon his purchase. Holding the ring up to eye level again, he smiled. Months of searching and inquiring and poring over records had paid off. Finally, he was just one small step away from achieving that which he had set out two years ago to accomplish.

On that day, fate had dropped not one, but two unexpected surprises into his lap. A third came along some months later. Today, he had purchased the fourth piece of the puzzle, and he knew where the last one was.

And once it was in his hands, he would take back what was once his and more.

Shorts

New approach- rather than one big story, how about a bunch of little ones? Short stories, novellas, whatever you want to call them. Here are some ideas of stories I want to tell:

Let Live

• Nikolas encounters a wounded troll east of Northdale. Despite long hostilities between humans and trolls, Nikolas finds himself wondering what to do in the situation.

The Cult

• Nikolas helps a family escape from the Cult of the Damned in Northdale.

Torn

• Nikolas escapes from the battle at Darrowshire after seeing his father cut down by the Scourge. He reunites with his mother at the Marris home to the northwest, where he tells her the bad news. Together they leave for Hearthglen, to regroup with other Alliance soldiers.

Misgivings

• Nikolas discusses his suspicions about the Scarlet Crusade with Thalion. They talk about Lordaeron's fall at the hands of Arthas and the exodus west to Kalimdor.

Flight

• Nikolas escapes from imprisonment by the Scarlet Crusade. He helps a small group of Undead, Forsaken, escape as well, killing three Crusaders in the process. When he arrives in Southshore, he learns a price has been put on his head. He buys passage on a merchant ship called the "Queen's Gambit, captained by high elf Valnara Wavecrest.

Rook's Gambit

• Part I
• The Queen's Gambit is attacked by Southsea Pirates east of Steamwheedle. Nikolas helps fend off the boarding pirates, then aids in disabling one of the ships, allowing the Queen to get away.
• Part II
• After deducing that captives taken in the battle are being held at Lost Rigger Cove, Nikolas leads a rescue party to save them.

Home Again

• While the Gambit is docked in Stormwind Harbor, Nikolas visits his mother who is living in near the Tower of Azora. Together they visit the memorial to his father at Northshire Abbey. Naya gives Nikolas some of his father's mementos.

Enemy's Camp

• While sailing to Silvermoon, Nikolas goes ashore in the Tirisfal Glades and sneaks into the Scarlet Monastery as a refugee. He meets with Katya and the two catch up. While talking, they argue about the Undead and how they are to be treated. Despite their differing opinions, they part amicably and promise to keep in touch through their mother.

The Long Road

• Wanting to pass along some of his father's mementos on to Dobrin Hammerstone, Nikolas takes shore leave at Southshore. He joins a caravan traveling east, the members gathered to protect themselves against Syndicate bandits. Among them is a man named Marek, with whom Nikolas becomes fast friends. They find the road ahead isn't safe, despite the numbers of their group.

Shore Leave

• This is a five-parter in which Nikolas reunites with his "second family" of sorts and finds them in difficult circumstances. He discovers there amy be more than just bad luck, however, and not just from one source.

So, tell me what you think. Do any of these stick out enough to where you'd want it before the others?

Let me know in the comments (in English or some discernable language, please).

Greek to Me

For what it's worth, I love getting comments. I particularly like comments that give feedback or constructive criticism about my writing.

Most of the recent comments on this blog are in an Asian language with which I'm not familiar. Heck, I'm not familiar with any kind of Asian language.

Thus, I have a request: if you are commenting in a language other than English or Russian, please let me know (in English) the language you are using, so I can translate your comment.

A disclaimer- if the comment turns out to be spam, trolling or garbage, it will be summarily deleted.

Thanks.

The purpose of this entry is two-fold. First, I want to let everyone know that the plot is coming together nicely, and I hope to be able to start publishing excerpts soon.

Second, I want to try this feature on Google Documents that let's me publish a document straight from the editor, rather than cutting and pasting and worrying about formatting. Let's see how this goes.

P.S. To the readers, thank you for your patience. It means a lot that you keep coming back here, and I'm sorry to have been a letdown recently.


UPDATE: It looks like it works pretty good. There's no headline, so I'll have to see if I can work that out.

Flawed

I realized recently that Nikolas isn't flawed enough.

He's never been perfect, I never wanted him to be so. Such characters are annoying and very boring. Where's the fun if nothing is wrong? But I've struggled as to how Nikolas should be flawed. A recent post on WoW.com gave some interesting insight, that it might help to blame the character's imperfection on one of the common vices: Sloth, Greed, Vanity/Pride, Lust, Gluttony, Wrath or Envy. All present intriguing options, but at the end, I didn't like any of them. So where am I going with this? Well, I had an idea yesterday, one that has stuck and that I kind of like.

Nikolas is, at the beginning of the story, well on his way to becoming jaded.

His upbringing wasn't exactly idyllic- he and his family were driven by war to another land and he saw little of his father who was in the fighting- but it wasn't really hard either. From his pre-teen days, he spent his time training to be a wilderness scout. He spent his years mostly outdoors, which he enjoyed, and didn't have to face the test of actual fighting until he reached adulthood. Even then, he had the teachings of the Light, passed on by his father, to keep him believing in greater things that transcend pain and suffering.

Where his difficulties begin is when he makes choices based on his convictions, only to find those decisions challenged, ridiculed or criticized by those around him. The difficulty grows when one starts to consider the implications of that choice.

Imagine you're walking along the street when you see a man stumble in the middle of a crosswalk. Oncoming traffic has a green light, and a bus is speeding toward the fallen pedestrian. You do the heroic thing and push him out of the way, saving his life. That's a good thing, correct?

What if the man robs a bank later that day? What if he kills someone during that robbery? What if he goes on a crime spree that leaves death and destruction in its wake?

There could be a host of philosophical discussion concerning the rightness or wrongness of your decision to save the pedestrian (is it the act that makes it good or the result and so on), but think only of this: what would you think if those consequences happened? What would that do to your moral center, your sense of good and bad, right and wrong? Add to that criticism from peers about your decision and the results. Maybe once isn't so big you can't brush it off, but what if it happens several times? What then?

That's what Nikolas is going through at the beginning of the story. He tries to do the right thing, but more than once that has led to less-than-pleasant consequences, even life-threatening ones. So for him, is it worth it to continue trying to be the good guy? What if no one around you wants you to be the good guy?

Those are the thoughts I have right now. What do you think? Feel free to share in the comments section.

Models to Follow

Yes, I know it's been more than four months. But I haven't been slacking off completely. Nikolas is a developing character, and I'm finding it time-consuming to try and hone down my ideas into the story I want to tell. So, that's still in progress.

In the meantime, let me share some Warcraft fan-fiction discoveries that I found truly enjoyable. There are good fan-fics and bad ones, and far too few of the former. But I found a couple that you might enjoy if you like this sort of thing:

Kuma's Song - I'm not sure who wrote this, but it's very well-written. The tauren warrior Kuma is among the first to fight alongside the Horde in the Eastern Kingdoms, but finds the new war is not what it seems. He then discovers that a new path may be calling to him.

It's deep while simple, easy to follow while deep in its message. Worth the small amount of time.


Travels Through Azeroth and Outland - Destron, an Undead mage who can still pass for a living one, makes his way through and around the two worlds, cataloging his journey and finds and meetings.

Entertaining and painstakingly loyal to the world of Warcraft as it is.


Blood and Light - I haven't read a lot of this yet, but it has things that have interested me since I started playing WoW- the Plaguelands, the Scarlet Crusade, Stratholme, etc.


Okay, that's all for now- I'm putting these links in a list on the sidebar and will add as I find new gems. Hopefully some kind of update on my story will be up soon. Thanks for sticking around!