The world was saved. Deathwing and his minions were no longer a threat. Maybe it was time for a nice relaxing vacation. Possibly some good old Goblin-bought debauchery in Booty Bay or Bilgewater Harbor. Maybe a nice camping trip to Grizzly Hills or Nagrand. Perhaps a trip to that exclusive hot springs spa in Southern Feralas.
Mornara knocked back the last gulp of Bash Ale. She had vague memories of drinking fruitier things before she was turned, but since becoming a Death Knight she'd preferred ale and harder drinks. The sweet stuff just didn't taste good, and it took more to give her a buzz. Her side trip, though far out of the way, had been an excellent plan. The smart ogres up on their crystal plateau made excellent beer.
The bobber on her fishing pole splooshed as it was pulled under. She hastily set down the empty ale bottle and reeled in her fish. She pulled a lavascale catfish off the hook and dumped it in the bucket. The bucket contained a whole lot of catfish, but not as many mudfish as she'd like.
Morn popped open another Bash Ale and leaned back against a tree. The weather in Uldum was hot, but being on the river let her cool off whenever necessary. And since she was near the military encampment she didn't have to worry too much about the crocolisks. The semi-regular army patrols were enough to keep this section of riverbank clear. And the recruits trying to patrol in formation were an excellent source of entertainment.
So far this had been a nice break. Mornara wiggled her bare toes in the river. She'd only told a few people in the guild where she was headed, and they had strict instructions not to bother her unless Sargeras himself rose from the dead and attacked Azeroth. She'd lived in her armor for far too long while they all fought to kill Deathwing. It was fabulous to not have all that magic-infused metal weighing her down.
Perhaps tomorrow she'd take some time and dig up a few of the archaeology sites here in Uldum. Being able to assemble something interesting would be fun and after the last three days of fishing and lazing about by the river her feet were starting to become permanently wrinkled. A little time in the desert would dry her out, both from the river and the alcohol. Mornara grinned and swigged more of her ale.
The next morning, Mornara finished strapping the last of her armor on and slung her axe across her back. The past days without its weight had been pleasant, but she felt better with it close to hand. She sniffed, the hot desert air had aired out her armor. The last whiffs of blood, slime, and char had finally faded.
Morn strode out of her tent away from the formation and drilling grounds. The camp commander here had enough trouble keeping the newer recruits in formation, she didn't want to add to his problems by having her drake land where it would be distracting.
At the landing area she grabbed the saddle and whistled for her drake. She shielded her eyes as it landed amid swirls of sand and dust. Once the drake's wings were folded Mornara heaved the saddle up onto its shoulders. The saddle wasn't particularly heavy for her, but its bulk did require a plethora of curses as she wrestled it into place and fastened all the straps. A quick double check on all the straps and then Morn vaulted into the saddle and the drake leaped into the sky.
The drake flew over the river and past the dam. The sun hadn't had a chance to heat things up yet so the drake had to work harder to gain altitude. Once high enough, Mornara signaled for a gentle glide toward the first dig site marked on her map.
Mornara had sifted through two dig sites that morning. Now she was relaxing under a palm tree at a tiny oasis. Her drake was performing double duty as backrest and watchdog, just in case the hyenas she had chased off earlier decided to come back.
She absently sipped at the last of her cactus cider; a bowl of lavascale minestrone already having been eaten. Mornara was idly toying with several fragments of Tol'vir archaeological finds. She wasn't sure, but she thought with a few more fragments she might be able to piece together a staff.
Mornara's lazy afternoon was interrupted as a whisper came in. She growled, "I distinctly remember threatening serious maiming to anyone who interrupted my vacation and - "
Her grumbles were cut off by the other person, whose breathless words tumbled over each other at a pitch higher than normal.
Mornara's jaw dropped open, and then she surged to her feet, cider forgotten, yelling, "... Garrosh did WHAT to Theramore?!"
No comments:
Post a Comment