#Jmsmclou

[the-short-stouts-tavern]

Woven Destiny

“Be careful, sir! Our luggage isn’t secure!”

“Ahah, t’weren’t complaining about the speed when we was departing Westfall, friend!”

Along the long-traveled roads of Elwynn Forest, a lone carriage came visible in the distance. It was the evening, and a fog had settled in. This was a blessing for its rider, as the form of a worgen isn’t exactly wholesome to a lot of people. Even years since rejoining the Alliance, the normal humans tend to see a worgen as a monster.

The tense atmosphere tended to lighten up once the worgen decides to put their top hat on, but not everyone enjoys a good hat trick.

The worgen in question wore a humble brown shirt, a sword and shield placed closely to his side. In his mouth laid a stone pipe, of Dwarven design, the smoke blowing immediately to the side as he snapped the reins of the horse, causing it to begin a quick gallop.

In the back of the carriage, a worgen woman and a draenei male struggled to hold a few large boxes steady. The woman, tall and gray, had clothes fitted to her form as opposed to frayed ends due to repeated transformation. The draenei, on the other hand, was adorned in a fine robe made from the silk of spiders native to another planet entirely.

“Sir!” The draenei cried out. “The boxes, they do not have secure mast! They will topple!”

“Well, it weren’t a good idea to not tie it down, now was it?” The worgen male shouted from the front.

The female sighed. “Don’t be too off-kilter at milord’s gumption, b-” The worgen bounced up in the air from a rock in the road being run over by the wheels, then steadied herself. “...but we are behind and am needing in Stormwind in due haste.”

“I do understand, bu-”

“Ahaah, here we are! Whoaaaaa girl!”

With a gentle nudge, the horses began to slow to a small gallop as they finally found themselves in front of the massive gates of Stormwind. Heavily fortified since the rebuilding after the Horde’s first attack, the kingdom has seldom had to close those gates for anything. It was a welcoming city of grandeur, no doubt a pristine city were it seen in the daytime.

“And there we are.” The worgen grinned, his fangs snugly nursing the pipe in his mouth. “Did you need help with your luggage?”

“Ah, no thank you.” The draenei bowed as he grabbed a small satchel of clothing from the back. “I am grateful for your assistance in getting me to this place. I have been told by many in Shadowmoon of the glory of the Alliance capital.”

“Ahhhh, which Shadowmoon do you hail?”

“....excuse me?”

“Ah, you know.” The worgen shrugged. “Is it blue or green?”

“...green. There’s a blue one now?”

“Ah, probably somethin’ to find later. It’s...a whole thing and all. Now out with you, we need to be on our way. Gonna be a long couple of days before ol’ Ironforge.”

“Still say we shouldn’t bother by carriage. The damn place will be nigh painful on foot the way we’re goin.” The female sighed.

The male worgen laughed. “Only cause you refuse to shift to human form and yet hate sailing the seas.”

“...the salt air makes my fur smell.” The woman grumbled.

“Besides, it’s just a chipper old gallop through Redridge, through Blackrock Mountain’s interior fortress and a quick ride through the roads to Stonewrought Pass. Pay Pebblebitty her due as we pass by and a few tunnel rides until chilly Dun Morogh.”

“And all of this would be prevented if the Stormwind guard would just let caravans onto the Deeprun Tram.” The woman replied, sniffing the air once and scratching the side of her cheek.

The draenei, meanwhile, nodded his head. He had no idea what these two dog people just described but it sounded complicated. Regardless, they were kind enough to let him on, and he certainly needed the ride to Stormwind.

He waved the two off as they began to prepare their departure. “Thank you kindly, you two. It was an honor.”

“Ah, t’weren’t nothing and you know it.” The male laughed, placing more crushed herbs into his pipe. “It was nice to have company on our long trek out north. The benefit of trading from the jungles of Stranglethorn is, Ironforge is extremely far. Gold practically falls to the ground at our feet. You were just a happy bystander, lad.”

“I hope your tailoring dream comes true, Sir Mamail.”

“I hope so, as well.” The draenei bowed his head and smiled. “Good luck with your trading empire.”

The worgen both waved their hands as they began to leave.

Mamail waved back and slowly turned around. “Ah, Stormwind. It took a couple of years but I’m glad I finally came.”

The harsh, demonic winds of Outland is really no place for a tailor. He’s had enough of the scraps of Netherweave found from the corpses of the clothed ones. Azeroth, as he’d been told, has a high, HIGH amount of cloth.

From what Mamail saw, most of it was Runecloth.

He’s heard from what little he could gleam from passerbys that there was also talk of a new source of highly magical cloth from some place called “The Broken Isles”. What an intriguing name!

He was going to apply for a tailoring position at the local clothing shop as soon as he is able.

But first, he needed a nap. Beside a tree outside of the gates, he put out a pillow, made from various furs and cloth found as he went along, and a blanket made from a hound in Duskwood, and nestled in.

Soon he will learn to craft with the best of the best, and weave a destiny unlike any other.

He yawned and closed his glowing eyes shut.

---

Walking through the gates of Stormwind felt much like the first day he joined the Sha’tar. He wasn’t really one for combat, but Mamail felt he needed to put at least a little bit of his life towards improving the damned lands of Outland and protecting the Naaru city of Shattrath. So he put his efforts towards his passion: weaving. Taking care of the priests of Shattrath was a long business, as the dilapidated city had grown more grimy as of late. Still, it was a joy to help.

Every little bit of knowledge he gained from that time was invaluable, but no moreso than the days before he left Outland. He was preparing for a trip back to his station in Shadowmoon when, walking through the center of Shattrath, he heard the chimes of the naaru A’dal usher him over.

The Sha’tar were trained not to disturb the naaru unless they wished to talk to you. It was usually the concentration of the lightpure beings that most of Outland had not been completely decimated yet.

Mamail knelt down before the naaru as A’dal’s gentle chiming voice rang to him. It spoke of a dream it had, and his destiny in it.

“In Azeroth, blue jewel, would thy destiny be woven. The needle shall prick, the darkness would feather. In the thread thy leave behind, will void become exposed. To the radiance of the Light, of dual fires and nature.”

And so he left immediately, to the lands the outworlders hailed from. To Azeroth, the planet Prophet Velen and the Exodar did flee to.

And there he walked, his hooved feet clopping down the paved road. After living in Outland for so long, the world of Azeroth felt...serene. Calming.

Nostalgic.

In front of the tailoring shop, Duncan’s Textiles. The owner, a human named Duncan Cullen, was quick to hire him. Not often do people come in who still bother with expertise in netherweave, and a craft like tailoring takes all kinds to make a good profit margin.

In the store were a few different apprentices working their craft, training under Georgio Bolero, a human male with a bit of a sarcastic streak about him. Didn’t seem keen on helping the Outlander with his preparations.

Training under him were a Pandaren Monk named Rufoleeane, a Gnome Priest named Boskurz, another Worgen named James McCloud (when he asked, the worgen spoke very fast, like some sort of speech impediment), and a Night Elf Mage named Ashe.

They all seemed a happy bunch, glad to take in a new perspective on their quest to improve their craft. Boskurz didn’t seem too impressed with him, but not a lot of friendships blossom immediately. As his cousin once said, it’s all about how much effort you put in something before the kindling is effective.

A Fire Mage’s motto, it seemed.

---

The training felt fairly standard for the week. Today involved a lot of running to what the humans call their “auction house”. It was fascinating to see the crowd of various people running to their bank and back, rushing through their crafting business, collecting whatever sort of ooze was in the bank, and running back to the auction house to try and get money made.

Today, I was assisting Rufolleeane with her crafting. She had trouble understanding the intricacies of the craft, but the matter of Emberweave required a gentler method from the previous cloths. She’s a very quick learner, and has a fine eye for the better ways to put a little extra to the things she creates.

The day was long, but rewarding.

---

On the third day, Mamail was resting in his new quarters in the Mage Quarter. A bed, a few tables, and a few fruits from the Trade District was all he had. It wasn’t a bad life, to be honest.

Moving to another world is a daunting task, but so far, he felt as though he wasn’t having much of a problem here. It helps that there’s nothing that truly differentiates him from the other Draenei that walk about. He did wonder why there were so many females out there that shed aside the Prophet’s deep belief of modesty, but he did not mind.

He was secure in his faith, both in the naaru and the Light. Surely they were, as well.

---

Another day down and James, or ‘Jmsmclou’ as it sounds like (I just call him J Mac) was having issues understanding the way Mageweave can be woven into bracers.

It’s not that hard, J Mac. You’ve been here for how long and you can’t understand the basics. Mageweave is not that painful.

See, when Ashe was still learning Silk, that was understandable. Silk’s hard to understand. But Mageweave is literally just cloth with magic inside of it.

Insane. We have books for a reason.

---

Fifth day in and Mamail was given a note on the way out. Apparently Ashe was inviting him to drink with the others at the Blue Recluse.

He had never really gone to a tavern to drink before. He stayed at the inns on the way to Stormwind, sure, but he never once stepped foot into the World’s End in Shattrath. He was no stranger to the sweet essence of a good spirit, but he did not take to being a social drinker.

He wasn’t even very social, either.

Still, he was in a new world. A new life. It’s not too farfetched to try and take initiative while waiting for whatever this destiny entailed.

---

Ashe was having issues focusing today. She seemed a little listless, eyes drawn somewhere else as she focused on Windwool studies.

I wish she’d understand that Windwool was just one more step in and she’d be getting into the Draenor stuff. If it’s anything like the Netherweave was, I was looking forward to seeing it pure.

---

The Blue Recluse was very popular tonight. Being so close to the Mage Tower meant a good majority of the studious mages spent their days there. From what Mamail was told, he needed to stay away from the other popular tavern in the district: The Slaughtered Lamb. Apparently that was where the unsavory types went.

Ashe came first. She was dressed in a very finely woven dress. It seemed that Mamail was correct in taking initiative by putting on his best tunic.

“Did you sew that yourself?”

Ashe laughed, her blue cheeks changing to a hue of ambrosia. “No, no, this was sewn by Rufoleeane.”

“Ah, yes. I see her wave in the hemline now.” Mamail pointed down, noting a light wave in the way the dress laid above her feet. “The design seems very...her.”

Before Ashe could answer, a huffed laugh came from the doorway. “Hah. Not a week in and you’re speaking of presumptions.”

Mamail smiled as he turned around. “Apologies, Leeane. It is not so, yes?”

Rufoleeane smiled warmly, her hand resting on her hip. “Yes, I suppose I do like that style.”

Beside her stood James and Boskurz, both wearing their normal attire. Apparently neither of them got the memo.

“H-hey, this isn’t fair!” Boskurz exclaimed. “Why are you two dressed up?!”

“What, did you not get the memo when I came with you?” Rufoleeane looked over at Boskurz, smirking.

James sighed. “Hrrrrm...Leeane, you are always dressing up.”

“Well, when you look as good as I do in these dresses, then you must flaunt it every chance you get.” Rufoleeane smiled, jabbing James in the arm. James snorted, growling a little by instinct.

Mamail laughed. “Ahaha, come! These drinks are on me, friends!”

Boskurz rolled his eyes. “How could you have gotten money already?”

Mamail smiled. “Netherweave, my diminutive friend. I took what I had crafted before on Outland and sold it. Apparently, nobles really like that stuff.”

Boskurz snorted, somehow in the same sound as the Worgen beside him. This prompted a round of laughter as Boskurz sighed over them. “.................Let’s just drink, please.”

“Haha, of course.” Mamail raised his mug. “To you all, my new friends.”

The group took a seat and smiled, raising the mug to them. Ashe smiled. “And to a prosperous future for all of us.”

Boskurz grinned. “I’ll toast to that!”

---

A few drinks later, Mamail excused himself. The only one left at the party was him, Ashe, and Rufoleeane. Leeane was nowhere near done, her Pandaren genes serving her drinking well, but Ashe was already fairly tipsy still.

He offered to help Ashe home, but Leeane shook her head. That was fair. He was still new to this place and probably wouldn’t be able to find her place anyway. Besides, Leeane is obviously very protective of Ashe and most likely didn’t know him well enough to let her go with him alone.

With a wave, he wished the two a well and safe evening and departed. His eyesight was just a tiny blurry, but it didn’t really hurt him. Resting his head will help at his home.

Heh. His home. A week in and he was already considering this place as his home. If only his mom knew where he’d end up.

Past the Mage Tower, he walked into Essential Components, an alchemy store. The owner, Owen Vaughn, was clearly annoyed that Mamail was using his store as a shortcut, but he remained silent. Mamail smiled and waved, which no doubt left Owen even more annoyed. Probably thought he was a drunk.

Oh, was he stumbling? Nah, everything’s probably okay. He can keep up appearances.

He entered the grassy little section between the store and the main walkway. To the left, he knew, was where the path to the Slaughtered Lamb was. It was tempting to go over and see the rowdy nature of the place, but he probably shouldn’t.

With a sniff in the air, he began walking to the right when a familiar face stood in front of him.

“Oh hey, you. I thought you left already.”

...

“Heh. Sorry, we had a few more after you left. I know where I’m going, don’t worry.”

........

“I appreciate....you coming by to help...?”

....”Diminutive, huh.”

“Eh?”

The gnome stepped forward, his face cast in darkness. “That’s what you called me.”

“....I’m...sorry, I didn’t mean to off-MMMMMMP”

A sharp pain struck through Mamail’s bottom jaw, thrusting right through his upper lip. Blood began to pour out from his mouth as he moved his hand to clutch it. What the hell had just-

Some sort of hand grabbed his arm and brought it down, causing him to tumble to his knees. The hand that laid on his wrist gripped with an otherworldly intensity, but did not feel like a mortal hand. Yet again, a sharp instrument flew through his jaw..

“Mm...mmf?! MMMMMMMF!” He had noticed through his idled drunkenness and his teary eyes that whatever was causing this was some sort of tendral. He also noticed that the instrument that was causing this was...a needle.

Oh by the mercy of the Light. He was sewing his mouth shut.

“Mmmph!” Mamail tried to move his hand to his mouth, but the...thing kept both hands down. He shifted, wincing, trying desperately to look the gnome in the eyes. He wanted to exclaim why, but all that came out was “WUUUUUUH”

“...that was what he said, you know.”

“...m-...mph? MMPH?”

“Him.”

“.....m-”

The gnome slapped him hard, the sharp slap over his face somehow alleviating the extreme pain in his mouth at that moment.

“Pay. Attention. You damned draenei.” Boskurz moved his finger to his chin, immediately shifting from that split second of anger to a ponderous contemplation. “I...suppose maybe you draenei don’t know better words. Maybe it was uncool of me to assume.”

“....”

Boskurz’s face contorted to quick anger. “But ignorance is no excuse!” He stepped foward, the draenei’s pained kneeling bringing them eye to eye. “It’s no excuse for what he...or anyone does. And oh there is such ignorance in everyone. But it’s....no excuse, Mamail.”

Mamail nodded. He couldn’t help but nod. He didn’t know what he could do. His vision of the gnome was slowly darkening...or was it something else...? Even with the intense pain echoing from his mouth to the rest of his body, he still tried to consider asking why this was going on. Why?

“...Mamail, I enjoyed studying with you. You had a real knack for the cloth, I gotta say. But I wanted you to know something.”

“....m--mmm?” Mamail blinked a few times, trying to focus once more.

“Netherweave’s a bitch cloth.”

With a stroke, the gnome moved a finger to the draenei’s neck, bringing it across slowly. After it was done, something pulled the draenei’s head back.

He felt something cold rest on his neck.

And then, a flash of light. Then nothing.

---

I was supposed to help Mamail understand the intricacies of Frostweave, but he’s gone. Apparently he couldn’t cut the life of a Stormwind tailor. Too bad. He’ll never get anywhere with Netherweave. Bitch cloth, amirite?

The others are pretty bummed. Ashe especially, poor girl. Ah, well, serves her right for being interested in a male draenei. They’re all the same.

Yeah, I don’t care, I can be racist in my own journal, cause that’s freedom right there! They suck. Their tentacle beard is always so creepy. Their body’s always so big and boring. Their tail always gets in the way when they’re walking through the bank. Their accent is forced. I mean, come on, even the worgen can talk Common correctly. They try too hard.

God, draenei are the worst. They can all die for all I care. Especially him. But one day, right?

See you tomorrow, journal! <3

~Boskurz

PS: I was just told that Draenor had fur, not cloth. What a disgrace.

END

---

The Stormwind guard was clamoring. The meeting was getting heated as the top officials began their deliberations regarding the recent disappearances.

”That’s the fifth disappearance this month.”

“But there’s no evidence that they’re not just leaving the city. Everyone does! Remember when people left for Pandaria because the mages went on strike?”

“Yes, but four of the disappearances involve draenei males.”

“The one human woman alone does not-”

“And what about the blood, Chad? Does that not insinuate foul play, Chad?”

“Why are you emphasizing my name, you damned-”

The chief officer pounded his gavel on the ground. “Shut up, the both of you!” The clamor began to die down as the officer nodded. “Now, right now we are going to take this as a murder investigation. However, we are unable to place all of our resources on said investigation.”

The room began to rumble with loud protests. “Murder on the streets and we can’t focus on it?! Do you not remember the riots?!”

“QUIET.” The officer banged his gavel again. “Now, I understand the anger you all have for this, but we can’t have the guard actively investigating. It would cause the public to grow listless, which is already a problem due to the Legion invading.”

The mention of the Legion caused the room to hush up.

“You understand, then. Good.” The officer nodded. “Now, in order to protect the city fully, the guard will be on high alert, but in the same respect as we have been. I have called in for assistance on this investigation from any of the Class Halls, and the Knights of the Silver Hand have brought in a paladin to assist us. Sir?”

The officer stood to the left, bringing the room’s focus towards two figures. A night elf male and a draenei male. The draenei stepped forward, wearing a rather unorthodox set of cloth around him, his eyes covered with green goggles. He moved his fists to his sides and smirked, his mustache shifting up from his smirk.

“Greetings, everyone. I am Horusen, elected official of the Highlord’s elite investigations squad. Together with my roguish friend Elrizan here, we shall get to the bottom of this conspicuous catastrophe!”

Elrizan stepped forward. “Hey.”

The guard responded all at once. “Hello.” Elrizan nodded, then stepped back.

“Now!” Horusen smacked his gloved hands together. “Tell me everything.”

TO BE CONTINUED