Ashhoof's blog

"Get the young ones and go!" Ashhoof shouted over his shoulder as his blade slid through another Grimtotem. The tauren women behind him just nodded with both fear and a quiet strength in their eyes.

The first to burn was Silverwing, a small outpost buried in the forrest that served as a staging area for the Alliance forces in Warsong Gultch. Every Black Omen warrior had spilled their blood on that battlefield as a right of passage. Now, the under trained and inexperienced Sentinals that stood watch fell before the onslaught.

They were dead before he had dismounted. Pity.

Ashhoof stepped off the wyvrn at the well traveled flight point and glanced around at the gathering crowd.

Several days had past since the burning of Silvermoon City, the attack on the peaceful Thunder Bluff and the invasion of the Undercity and he smiled.  Time enough for complacency to settle in.

The time was right. The time was now.

He shook his head vigorously, "No, no. Look, I said it wasn't necessary!"

He was cold, so cold.

He stared at the orc in disbelief, "You want me to what?"

He shivered and pulled the furs tightly around him. The wind whipped across the mountains and the small fire danced. I should really head back, he thought but It was just so damned cold.

The air was cold. It bit at the soft skin inside his nostrils and he pulled the furs close and scooted nearer to the fire. Across from him, the Family joked and drank, warming themselves with riotous tales of battle, camaraderie and bitter ale.

It was snowing again in Winterspring and he growled with the acceptance that he would see much more of this hellish ice in a far, far colder place soon.

He pulled out the bound book and checked the small ink-well thawing in the ashes at the edge of the fire. Satisfied that the ink would spread on paper smoothly, he started to write:

He leaned back, lighting a small pipe and watched the orc peon sitting just outside the tent as he dutifully scrubbed the blood off his armor. The canopy kept the interior in cool shadow from the brilliant Eastern sun. There was a new chill in the air.

Spread around him were scribbled reports from the field, hastily drawn maps... signs and portents of things spiraling out of control and beyond anyone's ability to stop.

Dear Journal

Dear Book

How the hell do you do....

Ashhoof turned sharply and headed back up the road towards the Black Rock Spire. All his senses were on edge as he could feel eyes burning through his back. He breathed slowly through his nostrils, letting the battle haze fade from his eyes and scanned the ground for the pieces of armor and weaponry he shed in order to catch the girl in the first place.

The sharp smell of death hung in the calm sea air while the chaotic sounds of battle drifted across the water from the shore.

Ashhoof Cloudstormer, , leaned heavily against the wooden railing of the Bloodoath and surveyed the deck. It was littered with the corpses of Sunstrider loyalists coming to reinforce the enemy on the beaches. He had killed many such elves in the last two weeks. With the arrival of the Shattered Sun Offensive, he had shipped out to the Isle of Quel'donas to aid them. There was good money to be made here but, even for a seasoned warrior such as he, there was a limit to the death one could stomach at a time.

"I am the coming of the end."

For a moment, we all just stood staring at each other. Archimonde, leader of the Legion, had made it to the World Tree.

We charged up the mountain road with the sounds of gibbering ghouls and the bellow of warhorns echoing off the cliff walls. Smoke rose up from an abandoned village down in the valley. Gargolyes with leathery wings flew between the buildings looking for any hapless stragglers.

The hardened eyes of the Omen scanned the road for ambushes as we took the final turn and Thrall's camp came into view. His orc grunts and troll spearmen guarded the enterance. They moved aside as we poured inside and took up defensive positions.

"They're right behind us," I said looking from one set of eager eyes to the next. "Get ready."

So, you think I was too young to have fought then yet you want to hear the rest of the story? You want to hear it even though you don't believe me.

Fine then.

The sun rose the next morning and we were all up at dawn. As if any of us could sleep. Dew hung on the grass and beaded on our armor. A chill breeze blew down from the North. Everything was eerily still.

So, now I'm married.

You know, it's weird 'cause I thought things would change. But they didn't.

We still live in Stonebreaker Hold. My cooking still kinda sucks. Apparently, I traded my armored kodo for a Brewfest Ram. Kinda embrassing cause I don't remember doing it. It's a sturdy and swift little thing though so I guess it's not a really big deal.

I groaned.

I think something kicked me in the head.

Pain. Hot.

Stabbing, bright, hurtful, Owies.

"So... Ashhoof..."

I was really just minding my own business when I heard her. I was cranky to begin with since the hot Nagrand sun was turning my heavy armor into an oven. The sly smirk on her face didn't help matters. I scowled.

"Learn to cook anything besides buzzard lately?"

So I was relaxing by the lake, fishing when Meco walked up and flopped down to sit on the ground.

The chill night wind drifted through the small window, cooling warm skin.

"Marry Me." She said and I looked at her like she just hit me with a 17-Pound Catfish. A *wet* 17-Pound Catfish.

"Huh?" I replied stupidly. The sounds of battle and death echoed around us, distracting.

"Life's too short for ifs and maybes..." she continued.

A new month brings new work. Also... membership benefits.

I let loose a string of curses as I watched the spiny fel tail I thought I had hooked slip off my line into the water and disappear into the Zangermarsh lake's depths. Again.

Things are good. I get up.. I go out.. I fight.. I don't die.. and I come home to Meco. She does the same. The nights are long and beds are warm and the food...

Well... I'm learning to cook... so the food is mostly buzzard, but it's not... well... okay it sucks.

Anyway, the other night, Meco didn't make it home which.. I mean.. isn't a big deal. I've done that myself. Just got a little side tracked and .. beaten up.. but, she's got better skill with a shield then me.

It was kinda lonely that night.. but whatever.. I was sure it was nothing.

"If all you're going to do is watch me take a beating while you talk about how bad it is I killed an insane dragon...then I don't need you here."

"Fine.  Just remember next time you start cutting on one of em that they didn't ask to be there.  Maybe if you'd ever been cooped up and made to do stuff against your will, you'd be a little more sympathetic."

I mounted up on Suraku and took off before she could say anything in return.

I dunno what I was expected when I got home that night.

Certainly not what I did.

Now, everyone knows that undercover work is dangerous. One false move, one slip and you can kiss the Earthmother goodbye in a generally painful and horrific manner. Living everyday under the constant stress of being discovered at any moment. The knowledge that if I screwed it up I'd probably die here and never see Meco again.

Eep Andy/Gaz!  Thank you thank you :D

Don't look at me like that. You'd hesitate too.