The brush made a few strokes in his journal, coloring the paper with a deep blue. A bit of water made the blue light and spread across the page. No one cared about the painter in the corner of the Orgrimmar tavern. The poor elf was simply a no-one.
Soon that no one was joined by three orcs in heavy armor: guards. Their axes were placed on the ground and they were quickly served their alcohol. They laughed and drank without a care in the world.
“We’re sending a heavy shipment to Warsong Hold this month,” grunted one orc. He appeared to be heavily decorated compared to the other two, as if he were the leader.
“Why?”
“Grom wanted to send supplies back to his old city I guess. We don’t question. We do.” They all grunted and clashed their mugs together, nodding in agreement.
“Same old supplies?” asked the third guard.
“Yes, but more of it. Bandages, cloths, armor and this time, we are sending weaponry. We’ll catch those Alliance scum before they plan anything against us.
Once more, they grunted and agreed, taking a drink. The no one in the corner lifted his head and looked at the three orcs for a brief moment as he shifted his body at an angle so that he could hear them better. He continued to work on his painting.
“Are we sending more guards this time around?” asked the youngest of the three. The commander shook his head.
“No, we don’t need extra security. No one messes with us when we transport to other cities. Everyone knows better than that.”
The no one stopped his art, lifting his brush from the paper and turning slightly to glance at the orcs. The candlelight cast shadows on his face, allowing the orcs to see only part of the no one’s face, and a long slender ear. He chuckled, which caused them to turn and look at this odd stranger.
“Does something amuse you…” The commander glared closely, noticing the ear. “…elf?”
“I just think you’re being a little too over-confident there, sir.”
The orcs laughed, except the commander, who simply smirked. “We haven’t lost a ship yet.”
“I would think that the Horde would send their ships with many guards. Pirates and Alliance love to roam the sea.”
A cacophony of laughter rang throughout the tavern, the echoes sending the noise out to the Drag, making the no one’s ear twitch. “By sea? Elf, you must be preoccupied with your little magic tricks to even know that the Horde does not travel by sea. We’re not the filthy Alliance.”
“Oh, how do you travel?”
“Our transportation of choice is an airship.”
The no one smiled, the candlelight only showing half of it. “Goblin technology. Interesting.”
The orcs turned back to their drinks, mumbling about ignorant elves and how they weren’t truly Horde. Their conversation continued and all the while, the no one in the corner finished his painting, small as it was, in his journal. He wiped his brushes and dumped the water he was using beside the table. He turned to the orcs one more time. “Excuse me.”
The commander turned around, obviously irritated. “What!”
“How would someone like, oh I don’t know, myself, join your operation? I’ve been wanting to give my services to the Horde for a while now.”
The orcs laughed once again. “We don’t like scrawny elves, but I suppose any help is good. Report to the Valley of Honor. They’ll let you know what to do.” The no one nodded and grabbed his bags.
“I thank you, kind sirs.” The orcs scoffed the comment and turned back to their conversations.
As he walked past their table, the commander stopped him, grabbing his hand. “Who are you anyway?”
Lifting his auburn head, sea-green eyes stared firmly into the commander’s eyes as he smiled and simply shrugged, “Me? I’m a no one.”
Taking his hand back, Cristianno bowed politely and whistled as he exited the tavern, followed by a wide, sly grin.
 |
| Watercolor done by me. |
No comments:
Post a Comment