It’s always nice to wish a favorite blog a happy anniversary, and this time around Alas of Kiss My Alas is celebrating her first year. She issued marching orders to her blogging readers to answer a prompt of her choosing in honor of her big day. Being in the middle of a frantic rush to finish the semester, coupled with a lovely bit of a writing slump here at the blog, I happily took my instructions.
It’s a dark and stormy night (obviously) and you’re stranded outside Gilneas. You need shelter from the weather and the fearsome beasts and your hearthstone broke when you fell off your horse earlier. What do you do?
It all started so innocently.
I had traveled to the fallen city of Lordaeron to interrupt the yearly Wickerman Festival and was judiciously falling back to a more advantageous position when it happened. What seemed to be a washed out stream outside the Sepulcher was in actuality a ravine that required crossing the enemy controlled bridge or a detour of several miles. Being the impatient sort, I decided to attempt to leap across with my mount. I made it. My mount didn’t.
I can’t say that the successful leap deposited me on the other side in pristine condition either. I found several flasks crushed, a nick in my favorite blade, and a crack through the center of my hearthstone. The flasks and stone promptly joined my horse, and after little consideration of my non-existant options, I decided to head to Southshore to procure a flight to the nearest urban center where I could procure a new mount, and with a little haggling, a new hearthstone as well.
As I traveled through the forest of Silverpine, I found myself ruminating on the twists of fate that had made the Forsaken my enemies. If my kin had rejected me when I had been freed from the power of the Lich King, I might have found myself among their ranks, cast into the necropolis instead of enjoying the cool breezes of Ashenvale Forest once again.
But no matter.
These thoughts were replaced soon enough with a glum resentment as the heavens opened above me. I found myself nearly blinded by the ferocity of the storm, yet I continued in a generally southern direction. In the distance, I began to see pinpricks of light, like fireflies, creating starbursts upon the falling water beckoning me ever closer. If I had thought, but I did not think–I merely placed one foot in front of the other, vaguely wondering when I would arrive at the Wizard’s enclave.
Instead I found myself flanked on both sides by the gaping cavern of an open wall. Greymane’s wall… open? It could not be. Now I saw the source of the flickering lights, a town, squatting in the darkness of the storm-tossed night. The wall had risen after the Second War, and not opened its door to any visitor to help or hinder, and now it stood open to the night, seemingly inviting anyone into the gloomy light. The town… it could only be Gilneas.
Alas… I love you, but I just can’t seem to figure out what the hell to do with the rest of this post. So, a lone night elf, lost in the rain without a hearthstone or mount standing at the wall. A scary attempt, I know, but I DID try! Happy Anniversary!