Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Transitioning to Legion - Part 3 (Fari and Ghurc's story)

(This is me writing a series based on all of my characters transitioning into the Legion expansion. As I've shared on here before, I'm an RP'er, so I want to make sure that my character's stories come into Legion without a lot of issues. Here's the story of Professor Faridoon Stoneshatter, a dwarf ready to roll).


Professor Faridoon Stoneshatter was an old man who'd seen a lot of the world. He'd been called to act as a lieutenant for the Alliance forces in Draenor. The old dwarf almost said no, but his war experience and the fact that he wanted to see this place led him to say yes. Even though the squad that he was working in had him running all over the continent, he still found time to explore and see what there was to see. When he could, he reported back to his first love - the Explorer's League.

After things were over, Gul'dan had run off and no one knew where he had gone. Fari, along with many other members of both the Alliance and the Horde, had gone back to their homes.

"Maybe it'll finally be time f'me to retire," the old man thought, leaning back in his chair at his favorite pub in Ironforge. "Do ya think it's time f'me to retire, lad?" His friend Ghurc, who he'd met in Draenor, looked back over to him and let out a laugh. "Nah, Fari, yer too much o' a work 'orse! Ya will be workin' til th' day ya die!"

Fari laughed back and shook his head. Ghurc Thunderforge was quite an odd fellow. A Wildhammer Dwarf with training as a gryphon rider who, when he had come into contact with the Alliance after Deathwing's coming, decided to study the Light and become a paladin. He wielded a large storm hammer and still rode gryphons with the best of them, calling on both the elements and the Light to help his cause. His bright red hair and bald head, covered with blue tattoos, made him a stark difference to the elder dwarf.

Fari, on the other hand, was an old, gruff dwarf with a long black beard with grey streaks throughout it. His glasses sit on the end of his nose, and luckily, he still had a full head of hair on top of his head. He took down another swig of his ale and grinned at his current companion. "Oi, I suppose. Just an ol' dwarf's body can only do so much, ye?" Ghurc nodded. "Glad I ain't t' that point yet, grampa." In response, Fari playfully punched the much younger dwarf in the shoulder.

He and Ghurc had met in Fari's garrison in Draenor, as Ghurc's gryphon had been injured during a mission and Fari's stable master knew veterinary medicine. That's where most of the Alliance brought their injured horses, gryphons, sabers, and whatever else you could imagine. Ghurc and Beaker stayed at the garrison for a time, and Fari became friends with them.

Now, they were back in Ironforge and relaxing. "I 'ope we at least ge' a little vacation here... I ain't had one o' those since Deathwing was killed."

Ghurc blinked. "Damn, Fari, that was nearly 5 years ago."

"Aye. And I've had 3 days off now. It's like th' world is endin' again..."

No sooner did Fari say those words, did a Dark Iron Dwarf that they'd come to know as Pebble come in with a letter. He looked quite panicked. "L-lieutenants Stonesha'er n' Thun'erforge?"

Both Fari and Ghurc turned their heads and looked over at Pebble. "Whatcha need, Private Pebble? Ya look like someone decided to use ya as a punchin' bag. Ya alright?" Fari adjusted his glasses and gave him a concerned look.

Pebble just handed the old dwarf the letter, his hands shaking. He then handed Ghurc one as well.

"First Lieutenant Faridoon Stoneshatter, you are being summoned to Stormwind with other members of the Alliance army for an important meeting. The Legion has been released..." Fari read silently, his eyes growing wider with each word.

"Auch! What th' 'ell is this? Th'..."

"Quiet, Second Lieutenant Thun'rforge! Don't need t' be freakin' out th' masses."

"Yessir. Bu' I suppose we should make our way t' the tram?"

"Aye. Pebble, ya comin'?"

The Dark Iron Private nodded solemnly, as both Ghurc and Fari slopped down the rest of their ales, threw some money (with a generous tip) to the barkeep, and went off to the tram, Private Pebble following them.

(Well Met!
Fari)

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