“You disappoint me, Garrosh … “
There was a note pinned to the door of Shuannas room at one of the Shrines inns. It wasn’t that unusual. Several agencies for various “experts in the field” used to pin notes to peoples doors. There was also a rumour that the Spicemasters – some sort of clandestine pandaren brotherhood in crime – used to pin a warning on peoples doors. Either way – she simply pulled down the piece of paper, opened the door and stepped inside. It wasn’t until after she had removed her armor and slipped into a velvet dress she read the note while pouring herself a big mug of wine.
Her jaw dropped. Almost literally.
“My lovely ‘grouse’,” the note read. “I don’t know if you remember me. I sure as the warchief has two feet remember you, girl. Ya remember the orc in Dalapants? You remember we used to call it that? Anyway – I’m her. The ‘hordie’, as you called me.
I used to call you Grouse. Because you were just … Never mind.
I’m was at the Two Moons. I saw you from the terrace the other day, riding fast. I called but I guess you didn’t hear me. Got maself into trouble there, y’now. On the run now, got a pandaren to get ya dis note. Ma ‘common’ isn’t good, but a note in orc could be bad. So. Ya now.
Not sure I can get away dis time, ya now. Kor’kron bloodhounds on me, cause I called out for ya. We won’t see each other again, sure, but I got somethun to ask: I got a kid sis, Marikka. She’s on da loose too. Shaman, kin of her kind keep her safe from Garrosh grunts. Plenty o dem around still ya now. War never ends, aight?
Don’ know why, but she’s taken a likin for one of ya. Not you, Grouse. Not in a habit of givin ma sis ma old lover, silly. Ya got a sis, think shaman too. Silly sis of mine ne’er met her but just seen her picure … picture. One you gave me, remember? That night in Dala? You n me about to jump, end up drunk as skunks insted in bed?
Anyway, aight. Tell ya sis dere’s an orc comin. Silly girl fell in love with dat picure … picture. Guess silly runs in ma family; daad been a rebel, moms been in hidin, me n sis on da run. She kid sis, not old enuff for Pandaria yet. Getting here tho, sure she is.
Love you, blue. Really do. Miss you too.
That was it. Shuanna read the note several times. Each time the memory of a few nights and a few weeks mad with love grew stronger in her mind. Her eyes teared up. But instead of dashing out, run across the sha infested plain and fight her way into the Two Moons, she simply slumped down on the bed, crying. Sometimes, destiny has a cruel sense of humor.
“But who?” she said, reading the note over again. “Wich one?” She thought about it, wiping tears away with the palm of her hand, steadying herself with another mug of wine. Then it came to her.
She placed the note on the bedside table, very slowly. Then, staring out thorugh a window, listening to the distant wail of maddened sha, she whispered a single name:
– – – – –
The Mists of Pandaria doldrums are here! In order to counter the terrible wieght of “nothing to do” (I got plenty to do, really, but most of it involves LFR and that I won’t do for another month or two, not until the stupidity of boosters has evened out to the normal state of incompetence and ignorance) … yeah, allright:
I rolled an orc.
It was supposed to be a few hours diversion. I was a bit tired staring at draenei, you know, nice as they are and all. But the damned orc wouldn’t let go. Instead of a “play an hour and delete” she threatened me with an heirloom mace and grunted:
“Ooh no you won’t!”
So, Marikka is alive and well. Allthough she’s down shit creek with a second helping of trouble and a stormcloud of despair on her heels. You know why?
She’s a deserter.
The great escape
Not bad for someone who’s as we speak level 10. She’s managed to piss off both the Kor’kron and a few scattered wolves. She almost got eaten by a crokolisk too! As if a very ancient orc of mine came back to haunt me, Marikkas adventure almost ended in the Barrens, a stones throw from Ratchet. That’s where my first WoW toon ever, an orc warrior, got mauled by a giraffe – at level 5.
Marikka was lucky. She stumbled into Ratchet with 3 hitpoints left. It would have been bad to send her off to the big Dark Below after such an adventure. So … She got a backstory. The backstory isn’ done yet, it will be, but she’s got it – albeit locked away in my brain for the time being. Suffice to say, she’s a sweetheart – not exactly Horde material but more of a “thrallist”. She’s on the run from the Horde, most of it, because her father didn’t agree with the powers that be.
Thus it happened that slot number eleven on my character rooster wasn’t occupied by another draenei. But an orc.
Hell must have frozen over.