Fates Call: A Taskmaster’s Plea!

Fates Call: A Taskmaster’s Plea!

Well, I see you have returned.  Looking to hear more about our hero are you?  Well I am sure I can recall the next part of his story, if you perhaps bought an old man something to drink? 

Life for me was very different after that day.  No longer looked at as property, and more of an equal, things changed.  I found myself being instructed by Zumolo.  I had thought he was just a simple healer that lived in town, and had no idea the lessons I would learn from him.  And learn me he did.  He was a harsh task master, a Troll with fiery hair and his ever present hammer which he never hesitated to use if he felt I was slacking off in my studies.

In the few years I had known him, I never saw him smile, he was a very disciplined sort who had no time for my attempts at humor or Tom foolery.  He taught me a great many things, far more than I would have thought were possible.  He confided in me one day that most of what he did would have been deemed magical and drawn undo attention to his abilities, instead he hid his art under coarse woolen bandages.  All of those around town that came to him to heal their cuts, bruises and broken bones, had no idea of the power that he possessed, and he preferred it stay that way.  One day a stranger came to town seeking me out, she wanted to meet the strange creature that had performed a miracle, she said her name was Priestess Shai, and had journeyed very far just to meet me.  I did not have much time to speak to her before out of no where came Zomolo ready to scold me for avoiding my lessons.  When he saw her standing there his face looked of ash.  He quickly pulled her into his hut and there ensued a great deal of shouting in a language I had never heard at the time, but later came to know as a long forgotten Troll dialect.  Soon things quieted down and as I kept my head low to avoid notice, she stormed off.  Her final words rang through my head like the blast of a hundred war horns.  “You cannot hide him forever, they will hear of him and come”.  I asked Zomolo later when he had calmed down, what had she meant.  He quickly dismissed what she said, “no concern of yours boy, back to your lessons”.  That day stands out to me as the point where my life and destiny ceased to be under any control I may have thought I had over such things.

The months passed, days became weeks, weeks became months, perhaps it was even a few years.  Time passed, travelers would come with illnesses to be cured, broken bones to be set, I even accompanied the trade caravans every so often as they made their way from the Crossroads to the big city of Orgimmar.  I never crossed the river to make the last part of the journey, the walls seemed so imposing, as if ready to withstand a battle that never came.

I would see them off in the distance, all of the other races of the Horde.  That was they name we had been given so long ago that no one I asked seemed to know why.  It was just one of those things that just is.  It was like the day I asked Jale’ why do birds fly, and her reply to me that they fly because they are birds.  It was such a simple and honest answer, some things just are.

But life has a way of maintaining balance.  For all of the years of happiness I had experienced, the Fates had another path in their tapestry for me to follow.  And one thing is certain, they do not particularly like when mere mortals try to disrupt their grand design.  Zumolo had kept me hidden from their eyes for far too long.  There was a misplaced stitch that had gone unnoticed, and when it was found the repercussions from unraveling the design were felt far and wide. 

That was the day they came.  They called themselves The Alliance, they rode their thundering horses into our little town, there were 30, no, looking back I think maybe a company of 40 rode in that fateful day.  They brought with them death and destruction, and I watched as friends and my family were cut down before my eyes.  They had come for me you see.  They had been sent by the Cult of Forgotten Shadow, and they would not be stopped by mere villagers, women and children.  The final words I heard from Zumolo before they cut him down with their swords, was, “Do not succumb to the void, fight the Shadows, never let them win”.  That was all I recall from that day.  I remember now years later seeing all of our homes had been destroyed and burned.


What happened next is best left for another day, you look weary traveler, would you care to share a keg of ale with this tired old priest?

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: