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| - Dyylon was born..... in fire. Those are his earliest memories. Fire. Burning bright, crackling in harmony with screams of mingled rage and fear. Even now, years later, he can smell the pain. The terror. The burlap. Ah yes, the burlap. Doesn't seem to fit but there it is. What can one do. Of course, burlap is associated with safety in the hidden mind. Perfectly understandable... "You must tell him Husarn. It's past time he was told." The shaggy maned tauren shifted his gaze from the piece of windfallen wood he was whittling. He set down the small (in his hands) blade and reached for a brightly painted pipe. As he filled the pipe Husarn's gaze locked on the cloaked and hooded figure seated across the tent. "Why? He knows I adopted him, he knows I consider him my son. Why dredge up the past. It will cause unnecessary pain and serve no purpose!" The great bull leaned toward his guest, deep brown eyes never wavering. "Unless you can give me a reason; ANY reason that I should disrupt the peace that boy has found with us in Mulgore; I shall say nothing. The past is past." The heavily wrapped figure opposite Husarn let out a hissing, breathy sigh. "Husarn... the boy has talent. It's time he was with those who understand that talent. Those who can... shape that talent." A low rumbling growl, so low it was felt more than heard, filled the tent. "If you think I will stand idle while you "shape" my son, adopted or no, your brain has rotted with the rest of you Devin!" The forsaken threw back his hood and glared at Husarn, arcane energy spilling from his empty eyesockets. "Don't be a fool! His power is beginning to manifest and there isn't a suitable teacher of the arcane arts for 3 days walk! Let me teach the boy. With my help he can at least gain enough control to avoid immolating any more birdhouses." At a sudden clatter outside the tent both occupants leapt to their feet and rushed out the flap. A troll youth with bright blue hair and matching dyed tusks was frozen in shock. " I.... I... I dropped the pans. Sorry about that. And about the birdhouse." With a sigh Husarn tossed a tree trunk arm around the boy's shoulders and led him inside. "Might as well finish the tale. Devin is right I suppose. First time for everything." Ignoring the forsaken's indignant snort Husarn sat beside the fire, puffed his pipe to life, half closed his eyes and began the tale... "12 years ago I was on a diplomatic expedition. There were a number of us; tauren, troll, orc and forsaken. We were searching for allies, any allies at that point. Outnumbered by quite alot we were. Still are in fact. Humans breed like... in any case. Our team was searching for a tribe of forest trolls up in the higher regions of stranglethorn vale. Supposedly a peaceful bunch. High percentage of magic users. Well. We had been wandering that bloody jungle for weeks. Found empty villages, hastily discarded odds and ends. No secret forest trolls though. One day the orc scouts came back bellowing and carrying on and next thing ya know we were charging full tilt toward what sounded like a horrific battle. It wasn't though. Not really. T'was a slaughter. The blood was deeper than my hoof in places lad, and the smell..." Devin coughed and raised an eyebrow at Husarn. "Ah, indeed. No sense getting into that. The fighting had ended when we arrived. Even now, years after the fact, I see that village in my nightmares. Not one body was whole. Most had been... consumed in one fashion or another. We set up pyres and began to burn the dead. Did we hope to cleanse the horror? Perhaps. If so it was ineffective. On and on the pyres burned. We worked feverishly, spent most of our time staring out into the trees truth be known. The trolls had been torn to pieces and there was evidence of great discharges of arcane energy. Yet we found no sign of the enemy. Not a trace. Either they took all their fallen with them or.... Or they had no fallen. Night was falling, we could hear the familiar animal noises from the trees, predator and prey in the eternal cycle. Then! I heard a wail. I glanced around and saw that I wasn't hearing things, others were aware of it too. What a ruckus! Made my ears ring you did! We found you wrapped in a burlap sack, Not even a week old. Far too young to be an orphan. I volunteered to take you to live with me. Devin and I rigged up a case out of your bag and attached it to my chest harness. I carried you with me for the rest of the trip, snug and secure. And when we returned to Kalimdor I brought you home with me, raised you up like you were my own." Husarn took a deep breath and held it for a moment, mastering his emotions and forcing his voice to remain even and calm. " I could ask you to stay here son, but..... it wouldn't be fair. That little birdhouse mishap? It could have been so much worse. Devin here thinks he can teach you. Thinks he can help you control that fire that's burning behind your eyes. I hope he can son. I truly do. 2 days later after bidding his adoptive father farewell; a young troll named Dyylon took the first step toward his destiny. A step through a shimmering mage portal to the Undercity...... Thus ends part one of the History of Dyylon Trilogy. More to follow..
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