Post by sorrieenrei on Feb 24, 2006 14:12:29 GMT -5
The small gnome sat down at the table pen in hand. With a look of deep thought he began to write.
The Story of How I Came To Be…
He cast a small wand over the paper and the line disappeared. He puckered his lips and tapped the pin against the side of his head. His eye’s lit up and he began to write again.
My Simple Life: A Memoir
I remember being young. I don’t remember much about being young but I do remember it. I remember my parents, my siblings, and I remember Gnomeregan. It was such a wonderful place to grow up as a young Gnome. There were mechanical devices at every turn, the sounds of gears ticking and tocking, and the smell of oil in the air. I shall never forget Gnomeregan. Some day, I will have to visit it again.
I remember the exodus to Iron Forge and the burly Dwarves welcoming us in, sheltering us from harm, sheltering us from Gnomeregan. They protected us from the taint that had overcome and taken over my once beautiful city. I was young and I never truly understood what happened or why we had to leave. I know now and I hope that someday our people can go back to our home.
As a young gnome I tried my hand at tinkering, building, mining, milling, drafting, engineering, oiling, lubricating, stamping, dumping, metering, molding, spotting, tailoring, quilting, pelting, smelting, and enchanting. I found that I preferred enchanting and tailoring. I also studied magic and magery under some brilliant wizards in Iron Forge. I was an average student although I studied hard and practiced often. The gift was there, the ability was there, the talent was all that was lacking. I just could not grasp more than basic mage craft.
There was a slight tap at his door and upon his command it opened revealing a young pleasant looking human girl with a small tray of tea and nut cakes. A bright smile appeared on his face. “Thank you child, I was feeling famished!” She let loose a girlish giggle as she placed the tray on the table beside and bolted for the door. “Wait a minute!” he shouted playfully. “Forgetting something?” He asked folding his arms across his small chest and putting on his best pout face. She thought for a minute standing there playing back every action in her mind since the door opened. She grinned ear to ear as she realized what was forgotten. She raced over too him, encircled his head in a bear hug, giggled and then bolted out the door. With a warm feeling in his heart he turned back to his parchment.
Once I reached adulthood, I would travel to Stormwind city and walk the canals. I would wonder why I was just an average mage, an average gnome, and living just a plain average life. I found that I enjoyed Stormwind more than Iron Forge and though my memory of Gnomeregan was vague I thought Stormwind was just as wonderful. I would fish with the orphans and the old men who had seen their last adventure. I would listen to their stories as wide eyed as the children. I would dream of adventure, dragons, and mage battles at night after my fishing trips. I finally purchased a small apartment above the orphanage and transferred my studies to the Stormwind mage tower. I decided here in Stormwind I would live out my days as an average mage with an average life.
It was here in Stormwind that I found my calling. Well, the calling found me I guess I should say. There is a tavern, to protect the owner I will not divulge the name but in this tavern I found myself one night, drinking a few glasses of brandy and listening to old men tell their stories. As the night grew on and each story become more and more unbelievable, I began forget how many drinks I had and how late it was getting. As the night went on I noticed more and more, strange, mysterious people enter the tavern, nod to the barkeep, and pass through the back door. No one paid them any mind, not even a glance in their direction. I wondered what kind of people would enter a bar and exit the back, what was going on back there? This went on for a few hours and the more brandy I had the braver I was getting. This was my chance for some real adventure. To see what was going on in the back of a bar. A sudden realization hit me then, is this what my life had become? Was my life now evenings filled sitting in a bar and the only adventure I ever see was finding out what was going on behind the tavern? I decided I was going to succumb to my curiosity and see what was going on back there then make my way home to have another boring day tomorrow.
As I walked towards the door I could tell that the one large patron was actually someone guarding the doorway. I tried to act drunk by stumbling around but in reality I was pretty drunk so the stumbling turned into falling all over the place. I slammed into a chair and then rebounded off it and into the legs of a large human man throwing darts at a round board hung on the wall. I fell to the floor with a thud, landing on my back staring up at the ceiling. As I stared upward and the ceiling slowly stopped spinning I saw the man in the chair stand up as the man I bumped into turned around. They started shouting at each other, which led to some pushing, which led to the man with the darts angrily thrust one into the other mans midsection. The man guarding the door way tried to break it up but he found a dagger thrust into his thigh. An all out brawl started right on top of me. As I stood and made my way through all the legs, taking a few kicks, I finally made it to the doorway.
What I thought to be a way to the back of the tavern turned out to be a spiraling tunnel down to the cellar. As I crept slowly downward I could hear voices talking although I couldn’t make out much of what was said. I found a few tankards to hide behind and worked my way behind them and around the room hiding here and there behind boxes of supplies, kegs of ale, and odds and ends stacked just high enough to conceal a gnome. Upon further inspection, I found that one of the people in the room was a tailor who specialized in some type of dark cloth. I could see the rolls to her left and could feel the magic radiate off them. The others seemed to be interested in what she had for sale but I couldn’t make much out of the conversation. I felt a pull on my psyche from a path leading off the room. I couldn’t tell what it was but I could feel that I needed to go down that hallway. Fear froze me for a brief moment but the magical summons became stronger. It called my name. I looked around to see if the others were disturbed by it. It sounded loud to me but they didn’t seem to notice. I made my way down the dark hall which spiraled down deep into the earth. Torch light lit the hall every so often but it wasn’t enough. The shadows danced on the walls of the hall. As I neared the bottom it seemed that the path had lead into a catacomb of sorts. The calling yearned for me to continue down, directing me to another path spiraling down. It ended into a dark room. Men, women, and magical creatures, filled the room, where these creatures demons? The encircled what looked to be portal runes. Again fear washed over me as a woman with horns and wings approached me. She led me into the circle as the others continued their chanting. A small sprite looking demon appeared before me. It called my name and asked why it was summoned. I sputtered as I spoke trying to convince the demon I had not been the one to summon it. It spit at me, called me weak, and commanded me to kill myself to save it the trouble. A tall man standing outside the circle, the only one not chanting the holding spell looked at me. We made eye contact and he communicated with me mind to mind. “Do not fear this creature!” he said. “You must command it to obey or destroy it so that it will obey the next time you call him.” I didn’t understand and he knew this because he could see my thoughts. “Did you not come I called? Did you hear my call? If you did, then you are where you should be. I made the call for a new apprentice. You are here. You are my apprentice. You will defeat this imp and claim his as your own.” He stared at me hard. I had to make a decision soon. I could feel the binding weakening. The imp charge at me but still held by the binding spell he was unable to break free. I could feel its anger and rage that it couldn’t reach me. In my most commanding voice I told it to hold, to obey me. He laughed and spit at me again. I released a bolt of energy from my hand and could feel it surging through the tiny imp. He roared. The binding broke and he charged me. I drew my small dagger quickly as I mumbled the words to another small spell. The spell hit seconds before he reached me and I plunged my dagger into his little boney body. The spell fire exploded into the imp as my dagger drove right through him. He flailed for a second then went limp before turning to mist and disappearing. My new master nodded his approval and walked away.
Later that night as I lay in my bed thinking about the events only hours earlier, I wondered what it was that I was becoming. My teachings as a mage told me I was becoming a warlock. I had heard that some of them existed on the alliance side although were practically shunned by everyone. They were evil, summoned demons, and were just plain old bad. Was this what I was, I wondered to myself? And so I continued my lessons in magery and as a warlock under my new master. We practiced in the shadows and in damp dark places that no one but our kind went. I found that it was not evil magic it was just misunderstood magic. What you did with it made it good or bad. Where I was only average as a mage I excelled as a warlock. Although I am merely an apprentice still I control more power now than I ever did as a mage. Becoming a warlock brought excitement to my dull life. I was sent on missions and adventures. I had to complete quests and defeat creatures in order to learn more powerful summons and spells.
It was on one adventure that I met someone dear to me. Lady Merlinne. I had passed her many times in the Stormwind Mage Tower. She was an accomplished mage that controlled much power not only through her magic but through her political connections as well as her cunning personality. A woman not to be trifled with for sure. I think that day she recognized me from the tower as she approached. I gave her a bright smile and introduced myself as Sorrieenrei the Warlock. I think it stunned her that I wore the title with pride and in the open. She smiled and we walked and talked about what I had been doing since I last studied at the tower. It was then that she offered me a rank among her guild, the Defenders of Valor. I first was wary, I am a warlock, would they accept me? I think she could since my concern and gently patted my shoulder and assured me I would be welcome. I have been a member for a while now and she was not wrong, I was welcomed and accepted as who I am.
Sorrieenrei stopped writing and leaned forward resting his elbows on the desk. He formed his finger tips into a steeple and rested them against his lips. He though hard about what else to write, what else he could put on paper that explained who he was. Was this all he had? A handful of adventures?
In my travels I have met many people but only few do I call friends. Outside of the Defenders I have met the fair and talented Megaly. Although the guards feel she was not officer material, not worthy of a position amongst their soldiers, I find her to be a strong sword and valiant friend. I have also found a gnome companion whom we share silly jokes and pure goofing delight as we travel together, Remmanak is a true friend. Among the defenders there are too many to name but I call them all family. I hope to obtain the honor of mighty Kanammer, the political strength and dignity of Lady Merlinne, the precision of Landorian the hunter, the leadership of Lord Windfoot. If I could gain only a portion of these qualities from each I would be a great man. It is this I strive for, this I live for, these are my goals.
The door burst open as a handful of laughing children poured into the room. “Uncle Sorrieenrei, it’s time for fishing!” Two of the young boys said in unison. As all the girls followed saying “Jinks, jinks, you owe me an apple milk!” All bursting into fits of laughter as they hauled the not so old but not so young gnome to his feet. He laid down his pen and hurried and out the door, grabbing his new fishing pole on the way.
....to be continued.
The Story of How I Came To Be…
He cast a small wand over the paper and the line disappeared. He puckered his lips and tapped the pin against the side of his head. His eye’s lit up and he began to write again.
My Simple Life: A Memoir
I remember being young. I don’t remember much about being young but I do remember it. I remember my parents, my siblings, and I remember Gnomeregan. It was such a wonderful place to grow up as a young Gnome. There were mechanical devices at every turn, the sounds of gears ticking and tocking, and the smell of oil in the air. I shall never forget Gnomeregan. Some day, I will have to visit it again.
I remember the exodus to Iron Forge and the burly Dwarves welcoming us in, sheltering us from harm, sheltering us from Gnomeregan. They protected us from the taint that had overcome and taken over my once beautiful city. I was young and I never truly understood what happened or why we had to leave. I know now and I hope that someday our people can go back to our home.
As a young gnome I tried my hand at tinkering, building, mining, milling, drafting, engineering, oiling, lubricating, stamping, dumping, metering, molding, spotting, tailoring, quilting, pelting, smelting, and enchanting. I found that I preferred enchanting and tailoring. I also studied magic and magery under some brilliant wizards in Iron Forge. I was an average student although I studied hard and practiced often. The gift was there, the ability was there, the talent was all that was lacking. I just could not grasp more than basic mage craft.
There was a slight tap at his door and upon his command it opened revealing a young pleasant looking human girl with a small tray of tea and nut cakes. A bright smile appeared on his face. “Thank you child, I was feeling famished!” She let loose a girlish giggle as she placed the tray on the table beside and bolted for the door. “Wait a minute!” he shouted playfully. “Forgetting something?” He asked folding his arms across his small chest and putting on his best pout face. She thought for a minute standing there playing back every action in her mind since the door opened. She grinned ear to ear as she realized what was forgotten. She raced over too him, encircled his head in a bear hug, giggled and then bolted out the door. With a warm feeling in his heart he turned back to his parchment.
Once I reached adulthood, I would travel to Stormwind city and walk the canals. I would wonder why I was just an average mage, an average gnome, and living just a plain average life. I found that I enjoyed Stormwind more than Iron Forge and though my memory of Gnomeregan was vague I thought Stormwind was just as wonderful. I would fish with the orphans and the old men who had seen their last adventure. I would listen to their stories as wide eyed as the children. I would dream of adventure, dragons, and mage battles at night after my fishing trips. I finally purchased a small apartment above the orphanage and transferred my studies to the Stormwind mage tower. I decided here in Stormwind I would live out my days as an average mage with an average life.
It was here in Stormwind that I found my calling. Well, the calling found me I guess I should say. There is a tavern, to protect the owner I will not divulge the name but in this tavern I found myself one night, drinking a few glasses of brandy and listening to old men tell their stories. As the night grew on and each story become more and more unbelievable, I began forget how many drinks I had and how late it was getting. As the night went on I noticed more and more, strange, mysterious people enter the tavern, nod to the barkeep, and pass through the back door. No one paid them any mind, not even a glance in their direction. I wondered what kind of people would enter a bar and exit the back, what was going on back there? This went on for a few hours and the more brandy I had the braver I was getting. This was my chance for some real adventure. To see what was going on in the back of a bar. A sudden realization hit me then, is this what my life had become? Was my life now evenings filled sitting in a bar and the only adventure I ever see was finding out what was going on behind the tavern? I decided I was going to succumb to my curiosity and see what was going on back there then make my way home to have another boring day tomorrow.
As I walked towards the door I could tell that the one large patron was actually someone guarding the doorway. I tried to act drunk by stumbling around but in reality I was pretty drunk so the stumbling turned into falling all over the place. I slammed into a chair and then rebounded off it and into the legs of a large human man throwing darts at a round board hung on the wall. I fell to the floor with a thud, landing on my back staring up at the ceiling. As I stared upward and the ceiling slowly stopped spinning I saw the man in the chair stand up as the man I bumped into turned around. They started shouting at each other, which led to some pushing, which led to the man with the darts angrily thrust one into the other mans midsection. The man guarding the door way tried to break it up but he found a dagger thrust into his thigh. An all out brawl started right on top of me. As I stood and made my way through all the legs, taking a few kicks, I finally made it to the doorway.
What I thought to be a way to the back of the tavern turned out to be a spiraling tunnel down to the cellar. As I crept slowly downward I could hear voices talking although I couldn’t make out much of what was said. I found a few tankards to hide behind and worked my way behind them and around the room hiding here and there behind boxes of supplies, kegs of ale, and odds and ends stacked just high enough to conceal a gnome. Upon further inspection, I found that one of the people in the room was a tailor who specialized in some type of dark cloth. I could see the rolls to her left and could feel the magic radiate off them. The others seemed to be interested in what she had for sale but I couldn’t make much out of the conversation. I felt a pull on my psyche from a path leading off the room. I couldn’t tell what it was but I could feel that I needed to go down that hallway. Fear froze me for a brief moment but the magical summons became stronger. It called my name. I looked around to see if the others were disturbed by it. It sounded loud to me but they didn’t seem to notice. I made my way down the dark hall which spiraled down deep into the earth. Torch light lit the hall every so often but it wasn’t enough. The shadows danced on the walls of the hall. As I neared the bottom it seemed that the path had lead into a catacomb of sorts. The calling yearned for me to continue down, directing me to another path spiraling down. It ended into a dark room. Men, women, and magical creatures, filled the room, where these creatures demons? The encircled what looked to be portal runes. Again fear washed over me as a woman with horns and wings approached me. She led me into the circle as the others continued their chanting. A small sprite looking demon appeared before me. It called my name and asked why it was summoned. I sputtered as I spoke trying to convince the demon I had not been the one to summon it. It spit at me, called me weak, and commanded me to kill myself to save it the trouble. A tall man standing outside the circle, the only one not chanting the holding spell looked at me. We made eye contact and he communicated with me mind to mind. “Do not fear this creature!” he said. “You must command it to obey or destroy it so that it will obey the next time you call him.” I didn’t understand and he knew this because he could see my thoughts. “Did you not come I called? Did you hear my call? If you did, then you are where you should be. I made the call for a new apprentice. You are here. You are my apprentice. You will defeat this imp and claim his as your own.” He stared at me hard. I had to make a decision soon. I could feel the binding weakening. The imp charge at me but still held by the binding spell he was unable to break free. I could feel its anger and rage that it couldn’t reach me. In my most commanding voice I told it to hold, to obey me. He laughed and spit at me again. I released a bolt of energy from my hand and could feel it surging through the tiny imp. He roared. The binding broke and he charged me. I drew my small dagger quickly as I mumbled the words to another small spell. The spell hit seconds before he reached me and I plunged my dagger into his little boney body. The spell fire exploded into the imp as my dagger drove right through him. He flailed for a second then went limp before turning to mist and disappearing. My new master nodded his approval and walked away.
Later that night as I lay in my bed thinking about the events only hours earlier, I wondered what it was that I was becoming. My teachings as a mage told me I was becoming a warlock. I had heard that some of them existed on the alliance side although were practically shunned by everyone. They were evil, summoned demons, and were just plain old bad. Was this what I was, I wondered to myself? And so I continued my lessons in magery and as a warlock under my new master. We practiced in the shadows and in damp dark places that no one but our kind went. I found that it was not evil magic it was just misunderstood magic. What you did with it made it good or bad. Where I was only average as a mage I excelled as a warlock. Although I am merely an apprentice still I control more power now than I ever did as a mage. Becoming a warlock brought excitement to my dull life. I was sent on missions and adventures. I had to complete quests and defeat creatures in order to learn more powerful summons and spells.
It was on one adventure that I met someone dear to me. Lady Merlinne. I had passed her many times in the Stormwind Mage Tower. She was an accomplished mage that controlled much power not only through her magic but through her political connections as well as her cunning personality. A woman not to be trifled with for sure. I think that day she recognized me from the tower as she approached. I gave her a bright smile and introduced myself as Sorrieenrei the Warlock. I think it stunned her that I wore the title with pride and in the open. She smiled and we walked and talked about what I had been doing since I last studied at the tower. It was then that she offered me a rank among her guild, the Defenders of Valor. I first was wary, I am a warlock, would they accept me? I think she could since my concern and gently patted my shoulder and assured me I would be welcome. I have been a member for a while now and she was not wrong, I was welcomed and accepted as who I am.
Sorrieenrei stopped writing and leaned forward resting his elbows on the desk. He formed his finger tips into a steeple and rested them against his lips. He though hard about what else to write, what else he could put on paper that explained who he was. Was this all he had? A handful of adventures?
In my travels I have met many people but only few do I call friends. Outside of the Defenders I have met the fair and talented Megaly. Although the guards feel she was not officer material, not worthy of a position amongst their soldiers, I find her to be a strong sword and valiant friend. I have also found a gnome companion whom we share silly jokes and pure goofing delight as we travel together, Remmanak is a true friend. Among the defenders there are too many to name but I call them all family. I hope to obtain the honor of mighty Kanammer, the political strength and dignity of Lady Merlinne, the precision of Landorian the hunter, the leadership of Lord Windfoot. If I could gain only a portion of these qualities from each I would be a great man. It is this I strive for, this I live for, these are my goals.
The door burst open as a handful of laughing children poured into the room. “Uncle Sorrieenrei, it’s time for fishing!” Two of the young boys said in unison. As all the girls followed saying “Jinks, jinks, you owe me an apple milk!” All bursting into fits of laughter as they hauled the not so old but not so young gnome to his feet. He laid down his pen and hurried and out the door, grabbing his new fishing pole on the way.
....to be continued.
