Finding home

[Gaurick]

Standing in Silvermoon was a bit overwhelming, as the young Paladin had not ever been there. The small traveling camps of Blood Elves that he moved with were passing through the lands, from small town to small town, in an effort to link up in Silvermoon. Now that he had accomplished that goal, he was more confused than ever. He stood center in a large mob, that argued back and forth against two spokespersons, a priest and a ranger, who spoke out against the recent connections to the Horde.

"There are hidden motives, you must see!" the Priest yelled out to the crowed.

"Blasphemy! You slander our kind!" snapped back one of the members in the crowed.

"How can you not see this!?" the Ranger jumped in, "The Alliance was quick to forget about us... what do you think this Horde will do?"

Gaurick tossed ideas around in his head. He had already made up his mind. Twice he knew of abandonment. One lead to his place as a Blood Elf, the second saw the slaughter of the small village he vaguely remembers. Horde forces saw no interest in it, and blew off defending it.

Where would he find those with similar views, was the question he posed to himself. It seemed he was on the wrong end of the broad view.

[Gaurick]

The young Paladin cringed, watching the party patrons converse with one another, all too drunk to understand that neither side was talking about the same thing. Still, they continued their ranting and raving. One of them came irritatingly close to Gaurick, "I hear we're all going to watch the battle with the scourge tonight, down by the border of the scar! Isn't that exciting!?"

His breath wreaked of ill prepared liquor, and his words pierced Gaurick's very soul. "Quiet, boy, you know nothing of battle. Watching blood shed on a field does not excite you - it reminds you that you are not worthy of being on that field. Now go, drink. You disgust me."

Gauricks bark was harsh, though he could not tolerate this nonsense. Watching battle as if it were some sort of show on display.

"What!? Then I challenge you! My magic will best your brute on your best day!" the patron argued.

"Oooo... " Gaurick mocked, "Try me."

The Warlock began chanting his dark whispers, forming his hands over each other in a spherical motion. Unexpectedly, Gaurick fired his right armored hand into the Warlocks mouth, causing his head to snap back and his feet to slightly lose their ground, effectively seizing any spell he may have been conjuring. The Warlock's eyes began to flair as blood seeped from his gashed gums and split lip; he pulled free his wand.

However, before the Warlock could even point, Gaurick had a small knife from one of the near by tables in his hand. He pierced the top of the Warlocks hand, and drove it into the same table. The wand fell to the table side and the Warlock shrieked in pain. The thick solution of the blood slithered around the wand, encasing it, and crept down the side of the table. Several Blood Elves came to free the Warlock from his prison of pain. The host of the party approached Gaurick, "However provoked or not, your deeds here will not go unnoticed. It would be in your best interest to leave, now."

Gaurick waisted no time, "The inexperienced tales and forethoughts are enough to sicken any man. I would be relieved." With that said, the Paladin set off south west, where he had heard of a small ship crew that posted up against near by "wretched" threats. Perhaps there was some coin to be made there.