A celebration in Stormwind

To my gentle Yasmin, jewel of Tanaris,

I was invited to a strange celebration in the barbarian city of Stormwind recently. I have given the event much thought, and I wish to share with you my observations.

Stormwind, as you know from my previous letters, is the fortress of the eastern barbarians: a settlement of stone, with ravines filled with water. I wish I could adequately convey the sheer size of this fortress -- truly, it reaches the sky. The largest structure is the home of their king, a small boy who has been blessed by the barbarian gods with the spiritual rulership of his people. I have not seen this boy, but he must possess great wisdom to earn the loyalty and faith of so many. I have submitted a request for an audience with him: when I am granted this honor, I shall most certainly convey to you my impressions of him.

However, certain honored individuals in the society of the barbarians also are able to use this enormous structure for rituals and celebrations. As a visitor from a far land, I was extended an invitation to attend one such celebration, to be held in the honor of an individual named Opalissa. I did not, at that time, know who this Opalissa was, nor why he should be the object of a celebration, so you may imagine my excitement at the opportunity to attend this event and learn more of the barbarians' customs.

The crowd of people was impressive. Each one, upon entering the area of the celebration, was announced by name and the name of their homeland. With so many names, I was not able to remember them all, but the sheer variety of those in attendance filled me with joy.

The question which burned in my chest, of course was: who is this Opalissa, and why is he the focus of this celebration? Is he a great sage? Is he a great military leader of the barbarians? Is he, perhaps, a religious leader from antiquity, and being celebrated for the many good deeds and wise decisions he made during his life? You see, I did not even know whether this Opalissa was a person living today, or a great leader from ages past.

Upon my arrival, I was overwhelmed by the crowd. It is through the grace of the sun and the seven prophets that I saw a familiar face: a warrior named Theryl, whom I had met once before.

"Ah! Miss Theryl, yes?" I asked with a bow.

The warrior blinked before replying, with a curtsy, "Err, yes. 'Fraid I can't remember your name.

"I am Castagir Jahan Azi Kharoush. The sun shines on our meeting, Theryl of the blade."

"Umm. Thanks. You too." She smiled at me in a way that said she did not understand the significance of this greeting. If you walk among them someday, my jewel, you must remember that their ways are not our ways, and that they mean no disrespect with their rude behavior.

"So," I asked, "is this celebration of religious significance?"

"No, not really," she replied. "It's Lady Opalissa's birthday." You may imagine my surprise. Such a monumental thing to have discovered, but to Theryl, it was a thing of no significance at all.

"The birth of a woman, you say?" I asked, being careful to keep my tone respectful. "How remarkable." The warrior Theryl raised an eyebrow, evidently as surprised by my surprise as I was surprised at her revelation.

"Is this Opalissa a person of historical importance?" I asked.

The warrior Theryl gave a wry warrior's smile, and pointed at a finely-dressed courtesan across the room, surrounded by admirers.

"Not yet. She's standing right over there."

"A living person!" I exclaimed in wonder. "How very remarkable she must be, to merit such a celebration. Is she a great scholar or prophet?"

"Well, she is the Bishop of Darkshire and a countess. So she's pretty important, I guess."

"Indeed, for so many people to gather and honor her birth." Even as I watched, a procession of barbarians waited to convey their respects. Many of them held gifts.

"She must have tremendous humility to accept such an offering."

"Guess that's one way of looking at it," the warrior replied, but I perceived cynicism in her tone. I decided that I would speak with others in attendance, to get a variety of perspectives.

"It is good seeing you again, Theryl of the blade," I said, bowing. "May the sun warm your path."

You may be aware that the women of the Eastern barbarians are immodest, but I think you would be surpised at just how freely they parade themselves before the eyes of strangers. I was marveling at two such women, when I happened to overhear their conversation.

"Fiyonna!" the first women said, greeting the second.

"Engl!" the other replied, adding with a wink, "I almost wore that tonight. We would have had to fight to the death.

"Yes, yes," the other countered, winking slyly in return, "little bits of charred Fiyonna everywhere."

In retrospect, it seems obvious that this was a good-natured greeting between old friends, or perhaps rivals, but at the time, amid so much that was unfamiliar, I was consumed with curiosity. Were these threats friendly, or the evidence of a subtle animosity?

"Pardon me," I said, from a respectful distance.

The one called Fiyonna smiled at me, acknowledging my presence.

"Was this spoken in jest," I asked, "or would your custom have been to battle over the right to wear this costume?" I was careful to avert my gaze from the costume in question.

The woman Engl giggled, and Fiyonna replied for them both.

"Oh! Well, with Engl and I you can never quite tell, though in general it was meant in jest."

"I suspected as much," I said, nodding.

"Besides," she added, "if I do ever have to kill Engl over a dress I will be horribly sad for her loss."

The two scantily clad women shared a wry grin. I bowed, and removed myself from their company.

Among the humans, there were a few individuals of the subhuman races. I approached one such person, a burly dark elf, with the intent to learn what Opalissa had done to endear herself to him.

"Greetings to you, elven barbarian," I said, bowing, and awaited his acknowledgement. Several seconds passed before he replied.

"Don't stare, human: you're weirding me out."

A small person who had escaped my notice -- a gnome -- tugged on my robe, protesting, "I'm not an elven sissy, don't forget about me."

"Forgive my slight, small friend," I said. "I wished no offense."

"My parents told me I can be as big as I want to be," the gnome said defiantly. I chose not to dispute this.

"I am curious," I said. "The lady Opalissa is so revered among the gnomes and elves that you have chosen to honor her, as well?"

"I'm just here for the stuff," the gnome said matter-of-factly. "The free stuff."

"You and me both, little guy," the elf agreed.

This was such an unexpected response, it took me a moment to realize what I had heard.

"Could you explain to me what she has done to deserve such..." I began, but then I asked, "What do you mean, free stuff?"

"Free booze! Free food! Free stuff!" the elf proclaimed.

"I found a wrench in the bush," the gnome added.

"I don't even know the occassion!" the elf continued, apparently proud of his ignorance and greed.

My mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of this revelation, when the lady Opalissa herself announced, "Attention please! We will be moving to the Royal Gallery now for a short speech and cake."

"Cake!" the gnome squealed.

"See! Cake!" the elf echoed.

"Come look!" the gnome called to me, as he and his elven companion moved in the direction of the "free stuff".

Somewhat confused, I followed along behind them, and joined what appeared to be a queue. As the line moved forward, each person was given a small gift, then moved aside to make room for those behind. As I reached the goal of this procession, I found that the gift was a small square of dark bread -- evidently, a sweet cake of some kind. I wanted to ask about this: its spiritual significance, what it might symbolize... what is was made from. But I had no time, as there were yet scores of people waiting behind me.

I stepped away with my gift, and watched the others. Most were talking, and the rest were eating, gorging themselves on the cake, but I spied a small group of draenei who seemed to be conversing among themselves. I approached, and waited for them to acknowledge my presence.

"Pardon us for speaking our language," one of the draenei, a woman, said apologetically. "Our new friend here is not speaking Common." Mosty of the other draenei smiled at me, and I perceived that my interruption caused no offense, although one of them, a man draenei, looked at me with suspicion in his inhuman eyes.

"May the sun shine on our meeting," I greeted them. "Would it be permitted to ask of the gentleman and ladies a question?"

"Yes!" the same draenei responded. "Please be asking. I can translate for Sharel if it is needed."

"My thanks for your patience," I replied, bowing. "I am wondering of the importance of this celebration to the draenei people."

"Er... I came with Ana," the suspicious draenei muttered uncomfortably, and the other draenei spoke among themselves in their own language.

Thinking that perhaps my question had been unclear, I rephrased it. "What makes the birth of this lady Opalissa an event of significance for you? And what does it signify to you to come and accept her gift of sweets?"

The draenei who seemed to represent the group leaned down to me (for they are a statuesque people) and grinned, her eyes gleaming. "I would be going to anything for the chocolate cake," she said in a low voice.

"But it is kind of the gracious lady to extend this invitation to us," she continued, standing and returning to a more conversational tone, "and so we come to honour her."

So the draenei, too, knew no more of the subject of the celebration than I did.

"Thank you for this information," I said, smiling and bowing. "May the sun warm your path."

I took my leave of the draenei, and returned to observing the people around me. There appeared to be no ceremony or protocol to the consumption of the cake, so I nibbled at it. To my surprise, it was delicious: as sweet as honey, with a dark, rich flavor I had never before experienced.

Having eaten my delightful prize, I sought out the lady Opalissa, for a few last questions. It took some time to reach her through the crowd of admirers, but with patience and persistence, I reached her.

"Thank you for the cake, Lady Opalissa. May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said, smiling, but also aware of those nearby still waiting to speak with her. Still, my question was important, so I resisted the subtle pressure to move aside.

"Could you describe to me the significance of this event, for you?" I asked.

"Ah, of course," she said easily. "It is the anniversary of my birth."

"Yes," I said, smiling politely. "I understand this."

"And a good excuse to throw a big party," she added.

"So there is no meaning to this, other than an opportunity to indulge in carnal pleasures?" I asked, betraying in my choice of words the offense I felt.

"Effectively, yes," she replied, still smiling, but perhaps not as warmly as before. "It is a chance for us to all have fun and enjoy ourselves."

"I understand," I said, smiling politely. "Thank you for your candor."

I bowed, and the barbarian woman curtsied, and I bade her farewell.

"May the sun guide your way in the darkness."

I had hoped to find some spiritual depth to these barbarians, to gain some understanding of their perception of their place under the sun. It is not our custom to celebrate the anniversary of a person's birth, but nothing in the scrolls of the seven sages explicitly forbids it. It is my believe and my understanding, with all honor to the seven sages, that it would not be inappropriate to express thanks for the gift of another year under the sun, to count one's blessings and take stock of one's life. It could be, I think, an opportunity to reflect on the past, and pledge to be better during the following year. I had hoped to find such meaning behind the celebration of the anniversary of this Opalissa's birth.

Instead, I found little more than base animal gluttony. If there was a spiritual awareness in this gathering, it was hidden from me. But it is this small grain of hope that I cling to: I am a stranger here. Perhaps the failure is not theirs, for failng to live up to the spiritual standards of our people, but mine, for failing to understand the spiritual significance of theirs. Also, as crude and materialistic as this celebration appeared, there was joy. The wishes of health and happiness being given to Opalissa seemed sincere, as did her desire for her admirers to have a time of ease and pleasure. Their ways are not our ways, and it saddens me that a people so blessed would seem to appreciate it so little, but what I saw in this celebration was not evil, merely... immature.

Perhaps by the time we are reunited, and you will read these letters, I will have a greater understanding, and the barbarians will not seem the carnal, unsophisticated creatures they seemed to my eyes now.

I wish you peace,

Castagir Jahan Azi Kharoush, son of the desert, brother to the wind