Fireworks thundered over the skies of the magic city of Dalaran, another victory for the most greatest heroes of Azeroth over the worlds conquerors, the burning legion. Tons of sacrifices and filled graves, friends and family waiting for their burials and cities for their rebuilds, the victory never had a price so high.
A price so high as the eye of Georen, dead now behind of a bandage. Georen was a tall warrior from Gilneas, the cursed blood of the worgens ran in his veins and like his family, he have a strong sense of duty. The warrior came from a long lineage of the gilnean nobility that go back to the years of king Thoradin, his family supported the decision of Greymane about close their gates at the orc invasion and break their contact with the others human kingdoms, a decision that was very well rewarded. After the renegade attack and the exodus of the gilnean people to Teldrassil the Georen's family rejected that option and took a travel to Stormwind under the surname of a family from Lordaeron. When the conflict between Cringris and Varian was solved they recovered the nobility status and were accepted in the low circles of the Stormwind's court. The years passed and Georen joined to a warriors guild, a strong and selective group that only were accept alliance members natives from the East kingdoms.
And now there he was, seated in a bench of the Dalaran's infirmary waiting for the nurse, with an official of his guild looking at him with a face of few friends. The worgen still remained a bit dizzy and his gaze unfocused saw a draenei approaching.
“Sorry mister Georen but your eye will never work again. Fortunately the wound wasn't so deep, you just need to change you bandage two times at day and apply this ointment" said the nurse giving him a little jar with a green pasty liquid.
"Thanks you, miss" replied the worgen taking the jar and a couple of bandages with both hands.
The draenei put a hand in the warrior back and smiled him "cheer up, big guy! war scars are very popular with the girls"
"Come on, the leader is waiting for us in the tavern" said the dwarven aside of the wolf.
The two men leaved the infirmary and down over the street, walking for at least five minutes to enter in a big tavern were the high charges of the guild rest during the campaign. The place was luxurious, silk curtains with golden cords, carpets of delicate craft, chairs and tables of high cabinetmaking, tons of crystal glasses with a great collection of exquisite wines and a aromatic clouds that magical moved around the place. The innkeeper was a high elf, dressed in expensive clothes of fine tailoring, who looked with a bit of disgust when he saw enter the worgen in his establishment.
In a big couch was seated a human, escorted by three tall and strong guards, she was dressed in a blue silk clothes and was holding a expensive glass of wine, taking short sips while look the pair that had just entered. She invited them to take sit in some chairs in front of her and leave the wine in a little coffee table.
“Georen honey, i heard about your… incident. How is your eye?” asked the woman.
“I’m sorry boss, i lost it” sighed the man.
“I see...really bad news... for you at least" answered the leader and with finger snaps one of his guards drop a little sack of gold in the table.
"Wha-what this mean, Joan?" asked a bit nervous the worgen.
"Your pension, of course, i can't have a half-blind dog covering the back of any of my men. In the bag is the paid for all the years of service with a plus for being a good soldier" answered again the woman, taking back his glass of wine.
"This is bullshit! i was with you for five years and now you drop me like a broken toy!" replied the wolf, pressing his fists and showing his teeths.
"Georen... don't make this harder, everybody fulfill a cycle, we can't being useful for ever. Think it like this: you won't go to a war with a sword without edge" talked calmly the leader.
"But i'm still useful! This is ridiculous!" replied rising violently while grunting.
"It's my decision, now take your money and leave or i'll order my guys to clean the floor with your ungrateful skin" said the human, raising his voice.
The worgen ripped his tabard and throw it in the floor, took the gold bag and leaves without said a word.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
A cold breeze was running that night, the magic city were sleeping and only the lanterns of the street gave a little guide in the dark. In one of the cobbled edges of Dalaran was a silhouette seated, with is legs swinging to the void, surrounded of several empty bottles of alcohol, and in the last moment when it was tilting towards the fall an animated voice broken the silence.
"I don't recommend you that, one day a friend gave me a flight with his gryphon and i saw a lot of sharks, really big sharks" said the slender figure.
"Leave me alone, this is the end of the road and i don't care about your fucking sharks" snarled up Georen.
"I don't know... you don't look enough drunk" said the other guy, kicking one of the bottles to the darkness.
The worgen turned his head, looking in the dark to the direction were the voice come from. "What do you mean?"
"Well... if you want jump i won't stop you, but the night is young and i just come back from a mission so i was late for the celebration of the Legion's defeat, so i was thinking if you want to accompany me with some more drinks... i don't think you have something more to do... no?" asked in a gracious tone the other man.
Georen got up tottering and throw the empty bottle in his hand "Sure... if you pay, some more drinks could help me, i wasted all my money in that wine for richs"
"Of course man! anything for another gilnean brother" replied the mysterious man, patting the back of the big wolf.
The two figures begin to walk in the dark, taking distance from the border. When they passed below of a streetlight, the light showed the body of the other man: he was another worgen, a head lower than the drunk warrior and with a light brown fur that contrasted with the black fur of Georen, his face carried a long scar that was going from below his eye to the begin of his neck. He was dressed with a tight dark blue leather and a black kerchief hanging from his neck, his steps did not making noise and every time the tall wolf looked at him he returned the look accompanied with a smile that made him look like a naughty boy.
They walked over the city for at least half hour, getting close to one of the entrances of the sewers. Slowly they descended to a more gloomy and wet place, the smell of urine and rust flooding the air and various dangerous eyes that came from the deep dark rested over them. A lot of improvised tents of refugees was decorating the tunnels, innocent people sleeping next to waste and rats, the typical true face of a war and their aftermath, baskets with dry bread, frayed clothes and a pair of bonfires was accompanying the postcard.
Downing a stair they saw an open space with a lot of old wooden builds together, like five houses and two establishments in the same place. The two worgens got to a little open tavern: a bunch of old tables with stumps by chairs, a ramshackle bookshelf with dusty bottles and some clandestine beer barrels.
They approach to a table with another three people seated and took a place with them. There were a gnomish, a pandaren and a night elf, all dressed like the small worgen.
"Who's that guy?" asked the gnomish with a sharp gaze.
"A new friend of mine, he pointed for a bit more of fun" replied the brown worgen while raised his hand making a signal for two beers.
The night elf begun to make discrete signals with his hand, transmitting a message for the worgen in a special language that only some people can understand "He is the guy who was about to jump three hours ago?"
While the barmaid, a young tauren, approached with the drinks the brown worgen replied to his friend with the same signal language without raising suspicion of the other worgen. "Yes, think i got just in time to save him, he looks broken like a shit and need to rest something, help me with his drink, i’ll distract him" The night elf nodded with his head and keep waiting.
“So, big guy! before drink let's me introduce you the crew: the tall guy over there is Ishoren, the chubby lady is Tzunxie and the little rat here is Robendel... and here the name of a server is Rusty" said the brown wolf raising his voice and making exaggerated gestures with his hands.
"Nice to meet you all, the name's Georen Haltfield" replied the tall worgen, scrutinizing them with his sight.
"Nice to meet you Georen! i have to say that Robendel here was waiting to show us all a new trick he got today" said Rusty, kicking the gnome behind the table.
"Oh yes! all pay attention here" improvised the gnome and took a little box from his pocket, put it over the table and press a little button in his side "Hundred percent gnomish engineering, not magic, not shits, just science, pure science!"
The five stayed looking at the little box while tiny sparks begun to sprout, mixing between them and creating the figure of a little female gnome dancing with a really lack of clothes. In the meantime Ishoren drop a white dust in the cup of Georen without get caught.
When the spectacle was finish all clap, toast and drank. The black worgen drank his beer without breathing and keeped listening about the gnomish box. Five minutes later, his eyelids begun to close and his head fell like a stone over the table, the other fours nodded and keep drinking.
Rusty grinned and put in the table some weird artifacts "Okay guys, let's do business"
