And More WoW Fiction
Dragons in WoW are lore appropriate, and dragons hiding out and observing the populace are also lore appropriate. That doesn't mean creating a player character who is secretly a dragon isn't intensely problematic and probably very mockable. As with anything, I suppose it comes down to execution.
I know one person who had achieved good execution on this, so this character concept is partially her fault. My love of Doctor Who is the other culprit; much like the Doctor, Xan is a revolutionary who finds humans fascinating and disagrees with the standing policy of non-interference. Or, as moonandserpent has pointed out: "She'll make a wonderful Infinite someday."
Yeah... well, we all know that Nozdormu hied himself off to become the leader of the Infinite Flight anyways. Xan is just "Vollowink in her Grandvathers vootschtepps!"
Really...
In the Time of Dragons...
"I have seen where your path leads you. It is foolish to resist your fate."
Xandormi rolled her eyes and rustled her wings, snaking her neck so that her head lolled sideways on the sand, the picture of adolescent draconic intractability. Not again. She was so tired of being cautioned towards patience and wisdom. She was ready to strike out into the world. Ready to see more of the mortals that ventured only rarely to her home underneath the deserts of Tanaris. She knew her fate, and it wasn't sitting around in a cave giving the same boring history lecture over and over. She was destined for greater things. Whether she wanted them or not.
Xan huffed, sending up a fine spray of sand before her nostrils.
"It's not fair. All my clutchmates have gone away, gone on, gone *out* into the world, or through the time streams. But you won't even let me leave the cave."
"You must practice patience, young one. And you must come to a better understanding of why we do things as we do. Your impetuousness and disrespect for the wisdom of our ways has always been your failing…"
Blah blah blah. Zaladormu droned on, and Xan tuned him out. She huffed again, focusing on the sand as it swirled before her. She stopped it mid-flight, tongue flicking out to nudge at the crystals suspended in time-space. They were remarkably resilient, resisting her gentle nudgings. She pushed with more force, and the particles shifted. What had been a fan was now a snaking line. She let time inch forward, coaxing the line into a corkscrew dance--
"Xandormi!" The ground trembled as Zaladormu slammed his tail down. Xan's artful spiral collapsed. She glanced up at her mentor, who was glowering at her.
"What?!"
"How often must you be told? We do not meddle with objects embedded in time. We observe only."
"But… time's elastic! A little poking and prodding here and there won't change the big details. That's why they're all the same no matter what version of the world we observe. That's why the Infinite Flight has to work so hard to make any real changes. The power it takes to actually change the course of the time-stream is--"
Slam came Zaladormu's tail again. Xan flinched and fell silent.
"You want to know why you may not leave? You lack discipline, and you are severely lacking in the wisdom and sense necessary for the work we must do. You barely passed your training-"
"I aced the trials-" Xan bit off the rest as Zaladormu's tail raised again in threat.
"I do not question your intelligence or your skill, Xandormi. In fact, I fear it, for it is excellence untethered by restraint. You don't know when to stop."
"We both know I'm going to get out of here someday, and everyone knows what I'm going to accomplish when I do. So why don't you just let me get on with it?"
"Your destination is clear, yes, but your path is murky. And that alone is cause for concern. And so we will continue playing these 'pointless games', as you call them, until I am convinced that you will not endanger the fate of the world on your path to greatness!"
The scales around Xandormi's jaws flared; if she were humanoid, her face would be flushed in embarrassment. Zaladormu's reprimand had reached shouting proportions, his deep basso booming throughout the cavern. Heads turned, both draconic and human, to see what the fuss was about. Xan furled her wings and snaked her neck and tail around her body, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. Not an easy feat when one was the size of a small house.
Time seemed to stop. It didn't. Xan could feel each moment pressing against her as a hush fell over the cavern. Then, one-by-one, people returned to their business. The docent gestured to a slack-jawed orc warrior to continue to follow her. An elite force of alliance heroes mounted up and entered the gate to Old Stratholme. Alurmi and Andormu settled their wings and went back to discussing whatever they had been discussing before the interruption-probably supply issues in the battle to preserve the Hyjal timeline. Xan's claws clenched, creating deep furrows in the sand underneath her. She forced her body to uncurl, as if the humiliation meant little to her.
Zaladormu was giving her his kindly-old-drake look. "I understand your frustration, Xandormi. Each one of us has felt it at some point. Each one of us has harbored a desire to change an event, to save a soul, to do something to make the fate of the world a better one. But that is not the task that Nozdormu has charged us with. It is not for us to decide what is best for mortals. It is for them to create the world that they will live in. Our only task is to protect the time-stream so that they might do so. Do you understand?"
Xan couldn't answer for the tightness in her throat. It was a losing battle, always. If she said yes, she was a liar. As she was if she said no. Because what Zaladormu was asking wasn't if she understood, but if she agreed. And she didn't. She never had.
She rustled her pinions in a non-committal shrug, causing her mentor to heave a great sigh and send his own spray of sand fanning out.
"Honestly, my girl. If I didn't know better, I'd say you would be the death of me." His wings unfurled and he launched into the air, hovering with great, slow sweeps as he gave his final injunction. "I'm sorry, Xandormi, but you will not leave this cave until I am satisfied that you will not pose a danger to yourself or our mission. That is all."
Xandormi watched as he flew up the passage towards freedom, then she slinked back to her weir, curled around herself, and fumed. And planned.
* * *
It was always quiet in the Caverns of Time. Serene. Boring, Xan thought. But some times were quieter than others. Now was one of them. A large coalition from the Horde had tramped through an hour earlier and were even now waging the battle against Archimonde to preserve the Mount Hyjal timeline. Most of the bronze flight in residence had gone as well to offer what assistance they could.
But not all that we could. That was what stuck in Xan's craw. They could do more, but they wouldn't, because Nozdormu, who had disappeared for parts and times unknown, had left his wishes very clear.
Well, dragons' eggs were made to be hatched. Xan crept through the shadows, a half-step out of time. She'd made her form as small as possible, compressing and altering the particles of her being until she was the size and shape of a tiny elfin woman. Well, all elves seemed tiny to her. She rather thought she was normal-sized from their perspective.
This next bit was the hardest part of her plan. The long, snaking corridor to the surface made a foot escape difficult, and most adventurers took advantage of the taxi service that whelplings and younger drakes were forced to provide. She'd played through countless scenarios, from making a break for it to jacking a hearthstone, but in every scenario, she was captured. This was the only one that remained murky. She didn't know how it could work, but she did know that it was the only plan that even had a chance.
She glanced about the cavern. No one that knew her was around. It was now or never. She slipped back into real-time.
* * *
Sir Gerard the Good hadn't earned his name by tolerating evil when faced with it, so when the sly-eyed, devil-eared blood elf approached him, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to strike her down where she stood. It was bad enough that he had to be subjected to them on the few occasions when he was forced to travel to Dalaran. A man should have the right to bring a traitor to justice wherever he met them, and the so-called "Sin'Dorei" were just that. First they consorted with Naga, then with the Horde, and then with those demons in Outland. He didn't understand why the dragons insisted that they should be tolerated by decent folk. His meaty fist wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword, and he waited for her to give him an excuse to break the enforced sanctuary.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Pardon, sir Knight, but could you lend me aid?" she asked in strangely-accented common. Damn elves butchered his language so badly, he was glad that most of them now refused to even speak it.
He looked her over. She was slight, dressed in dark, supple leathers, her burnished-bronze hair pulled back in a low tail. He'd been approached by her type before. They looked sweet and innocent, lured you into a shadowed close where five or six of their friends waited, and if you were left with your life, you were lucky.
Looked like she picked the wrong mark this time. "What kind of aid?" He didn't bother to hide his gruffness or irritation, hoping she'd get the message to go bother someone else.
She didn't. Instead, she smiled and gave a strange little wiggle. "My hawkstrider seems to have bolted. I don't think she liked it much down here. I need to get back up to the surface. Could I trouble you for a ride?" She motioned to his hog with its folded-away sidecar.
"Why don't you just have one of the dragons give you a lift?"
"I get airsick."
He tamped down on a pang of sympathy. He didn't much like flying himself - all that up and down. It was why he'd ridden his hog down in the first place. But maybe she knew that, and her friends were up in the desert instead of hiding in the shadows of the cave.
"Please?" She said, mistaking his hesitation. "You're the only person I've seen here besides myself with some kind of transportation. Most everyone else just takes the drakes. And that's a really long walk."
The face she made was just… strange. The big, doe-eyes he understood, but he couldn't figure why she puffed cheeks out slightly. It threw him off, and he found himself nodding in bemusement. Elves. They were all a little weird, but this one…she seemed young, no older than his daughter would have been had she survived the Scourge attack on Lordaeron.
In fact, she reminded him an awful lot of Polly - those same guileless eyes and gamine's grin. What the hell was she doing in the Caverns to begin with? She was no adventurer. He voiced the question before he could think.
She wavered from foot to foot, the soft leather toes of her boots curling in the sand. He wondered if she was going to answer, and wondered even more that he was curious to see what she would say. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, and he was ashamed to notice that she wasn't that young. He forced his eyes up again.
"My parents. They're… gone. I was hoping I could come here and… save them. But the dragons… they won't help. They don't care."
She had him, then. Didn't even matter if she was telling the truth. It was the reason he'd come here himself. Polly and Mary gone forever, and his son turned into one of those monstrous Death Knights. All his life he'd been a loyal soldier for the Alliance, and now those damned wyrms couldn't be bothered to do this one little thing. Like it fucking mattered to the fate of the world whether his family lived or died.
Gerard saw red. The little blood-elf girl *could* have been Polly, come to save him just like he tried to save her. He turned to his hog with a growl. "Get in. Keep your head down. If anyone sees me helping out one of your kind, I'll lose my commission. I'll give you a ride to Gadgetzan. From there, you're on your own." After all, camaraderie in misery only went so far.
A look flashed across her face as he slung a leg over the seat of the hog. It was sympathy, so pure that it seemed timeless. He slammed his helmet on before she could see the tears filling his eyes, but not before he heard her quiet words.
"Thank you. I hope that I can repay you someday, Gerard."
It was only after Gadgetzan and the young elf were dust in his trail that he thought to wonder how she knew his name.
REDUX
Sir Gerard the Good owed his name more to his fortune and his pleasant nature than his high morals. He was a tad fonder of his drink than was proper, and his taste in humor was on the ribald side, but with so many losses over the past years, a man did what was needed to keep his spirits up. So the frown that marred his face when the little blood-elf girl approached was unusual, and the hand that wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword, was more due to caution than aggression. He waited to see what would cause the girl to cross enemy lines to speak to him.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Pardon, sir Knight, but could you lend me aid?" she asked in strangely-accented common. Damn elves never could get a grasp on the tongue. Probably the real reason that most of them now refused to even speak it.
He looked her over. She was slight, dressed in dark, supple leathers, her burnished-bronze hair pulled back in a low tail. If he were a more suspicious sort, he'd suspect that she was the kind to lure you into a shadowed close where five or six of her friends waited. The kind that left you with only your life, and even then only if you were lucky.
Well, if she was, she'd picked the wrong mark this time. "What kind of aid?" His answer was gruff. He was here on a promise, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. Also, it looked bad, him consorting with the enemy. He hoped she'd get the message to go bother someone else.
She didn't. Instead, she smiled and gave a strange little wiggle. "My hawkstrider seems to have bolted. I don't think she liked it much down here. I need to get back up to the surface. Could I trouble you for a ride?" She motioned to his hog with its folded-away sidecar.
"Why don't you just have one of the dragons give you a lift?"
"I get airsick."
He tamped down on a pang of sympathy. He didn't much like flying himself - all that up and down. It was why he'd ridden his hog down here in the first place. Damn fool's errand, and a waste of his time, but a promise was a promise.
"Please?" She said, mistaking his hesitation. "You're the only person I've seen here besides myself with some kind of transportation. Most everyone else just takes the drakes. And that's a really long walk."
The face she made was just… strange. The big, doe-eyes he understood, but he couldn't figure why she puffed cheeks out slightly. It threw him off, and he found himself nodding in bemusement. Elves. They were all a little weird, but this one…she seemed young. She couldn't be much older than his daughter, Polly.
In fact, she reminded him an awful lot of Polly - those same guileless eyes and gamine's grin. What the hell was she doing in the Caverns to begin with? She was no adventurer. He voiced the question before he could think.
She wavered from foot to foot, the soft leather toes of her boots curling in the sand. He wondered if she was going to answer, and wondered even more that he was curious to see what she would say. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, and he was ashamed to notice that she wasn't that young. Good thing Mary was back in Stormwind. She'd have his head for looking. He forced his eyes up again.
"My parents. They're… gone. I was hoping I could come here and… save them. But the dragons… they won't help. They don't care."
She had him, then. This was it, and he'd almost missed it. His heart pounded in his chest, and the hand gripping his sword trembled slightly. It was a terrifying thought, to know that your entire life could hang on the balance of such a tiny act. He swallowed and hoped in her youth that she mistook his reaction.
He turned to his hog to better hide that reaction, growling, "Get in. Keep your head down. If anyone sees me helping out one of your kind, I'll lose my commission. I'll give you a ride to Gadgetzan. From there, you're on your own."
A look flashed across her face as he slung a leg over the seat of the hog. It was sympathy, so pure that it seemed timeless. He slammed his helmet on before she could see the relief filling his eyes, but not before he heard her quiet words.
"Thank you. I hope that I can repay you someday, Gerard."
It was only after Gadgetzan and the young elf were dust in his trail that he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Then he headed home to his wife and daughter and son as fast as his hearthstone could take him.
I know one person who had achieved good execution on this, so this character concept is partially her fault. My love of Doctor Who is the other culprit; much like the Doctor, Xan is a revolutionary who finds humans fascinating and disagrees with the standing policy of non-interference. Or, as moonandserpent has pointed out: "She'll make a wonderful Infinite someday."
Yeah... well, we all know that Nozdormu hied himself off to become the leader of the Infinite Flight anyways. Xan is just "Vollowink in her Grandvathers vootschtepps!"
Really...
In the Time of Dragons...
"I have seen where your path leads you. It is foolish to resist your fate."
Xandormi rolled her eyes and rustled her wings, snaking her neck so that her head lolled sideways on the sand, the picture of adolescent draconic intractability. Not again. She was so tired of being cautioned towards patience and wisdom. She was ready to strike out into the world. Ready to see more of the mortals that ventured only rarely to her home underneath the deserts of Tanaris. She knew her fate, and it wasn't sitting around in a cave giving the same boring history lecture over and over. She was destined for greater things. Whether she wanted them or not.
Xan huffed, sending up a fine spray of sand before her nostrils.
"It's not fair. All my clutchmates have gone away, gone on, gone *out* into the world, or through the time streams. But you won't even let me leave the cave."
"You must practice patience, young one. And you must come to a better understanding of why we do things as we do. Your impetuousness and disrespect for the wisdom of our ways has always been your failing…"
Blah blah blah. Zaladormu droned on, and Xan tuned him out. She huffed again, focusing on the sand as it swirled before her. She stopped it mid-flight, tongue flicking out to nudge at the crystals suspended in time-space. They were remarkably resilient, resisting her gentle nudgings. She pushed with more force, and the particles shifted. What had been a fan was now a snaking line. She let time inch forward, coaxing the line into a corkscrew dance--
"Xandormi!" The ground trembled as Zaladormu slammed his tail down. Xan's artful spiral collapsed. She glanced up at her mentor, who was glowering at her.
"What?!"
"How often must you be told? We do not meddle with objects embedded in time. We observe only."
"But… time's elastic! A little poking and prodding here and there won't change the big details. That's why they're all the same no matter what version of the world we observe. That's why the Infinite Flight has to work so hard to make any real changes. The power it takes to actually change the course of the time-stream is--"
Slam came Zaladormu's tail again. Xan flinched and fell silent.
"You want to know why you may not leave? You lack discipline, and you are severely lacking in the wisdom and sense necessary for the work we must do. You barely passed your training-"
"I aced the trials-" Xan bit off the rest as Zaladormu's tail raised again in threat.
"I do not question your intelligence or your skill, Xandormi. In fact, I fear it, for it is excellence untethered by restraint. You don't know when to stop."
"We both know I'm going to get out of here someday, and everyone knows what I'm going to accomplish when I do. So why don't you just let me get on with it?"
"Your destination is clear, yes, but your path is murky. And that alone is cause for concern. And so we will continue playing these 'pointless games', as you call them, until I am convinced that you will not endanger the fate of the world on your path to greatness!"
The scales around Xandormi's jaws flared; if she were humanoid, her face would be flushed in embarrassment. Zaladormu's reprimand had reached shouting proportions, his deep basso booming throughout the cavern. Heads turned, both draconic and human, to see what the fuss was about. Xan furled her wings and snaked her neck and tail around her body, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. Not an easy feat when one was the size of a small house.
Time seemed to stop. It didn't. Xan could feel each moment pressing against her as a hush fell over the cavern. Then, one-by-one, people returned to their business. The docent gestured to a slack-jawed orc warrior to continue to follow her. An elite force of alliance heroes mounted up and entered the gate to Old Stratholme. Alurmi and Andormu settled their wings and went back to discussing whatever they had been discussing before the interruption-probably supply issues in the battle to preserve the Hyjal timeline. Xan's claws clenched, creating deep furrows in the sand underneath her. She forced her body to uncurl, as if the humiliation meant little to her.
Zaladormu was giving her his kindly-old-drake look. "I understand your frustration, Xandormi. Each one of us has felt it at some point. Each one of us has harbored a desire to change an event, to save a soul, to do something to make the fate of the world a better one. But that is not the task that Nozdormu has charged us with. It is not for us to decide what is best for mortals. It is for them to create the world that they will live in. Our only task is to protect the time-stream so that they might do so. Do you understand?"
Xan couldn't answer for the tightness in her throat. It was a losing battle, always. If she said yes, she was a liar. As she was if she said no. Because what Zaladormu was asking wasn't if she understood, but if she agreed. And she didn't. She never had.
She rustled her pinions in a non-committal shrug, causing her mentor to heave a great sigh and send his own spray of sand fanning out.
"Honestly, my girl. If I didn't know better, I'd say you would be the death of me." His wings unfurled and he launched into the air, hovering with great, slow sweeps as he gave his final injunction. "I'm sorry, Xandormi, but you will not leave this cave until I am satisfied that you will not pose a danger to yourself or our mission. That is all."
Xandormi watched as he flew up the passage towards freedom, then she slinked back to her weir, curled around herself, and fumed. And planned.
* * *
It was always quiet in the Caverns of Time. Serene. Boring, Xan thought. But some times were quieter than others. Now was one of them. A large coalition from the Horde had tramped through an hour earlier and were even now waging the battle against Archimonde to preserve the Mount Hyjal timeline. Most of the bronze flight in residence had gone as well to offer what assistance they could.
But not all that we could. That was what stuck in Xan's craw. They could do more, but they wouldn't, because Nozdormu, who had disappeared for parts and times unknown, had left his wishes very clear.
Well, dragons' eggs were made to be hatched. Xan crept through the shadows, a half-step out of time. She'd made her form as small as possible, compressing and altering the particles of her being until she was the size and shape of a tiny elfin woman. Well, all elves seemed tiny to her. She rather thought she was normal-sized from their perspective.
This next bit was the hardest part of her plan. The long, snaking corridor to the surface made a foot escape difficult, and most adventurers took advantage of the taxi service that whelplings and younger drakes were forced to provide. She'd played through countless scenarios, from making a break for it to jacking a hearthstone, but in every scenario, she was captured. This was the only one that remained murky. She didn't know how it could work, but she did know that it was the only plan that even had a chance.
She glanced about the cavern. No one that knew her was around. It was now or never. She slipped back into real-time.
* * *
Sir Gerard the Good hadn't earned his name by tolerating evil when faced with it, so when the sly-eyed, devil-eared blood elf approached him, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to strike her down where she stood. It was bad enough that he had to be subjected to them on the few occasions when he was forced to travel to Dalaran. A man should have the right to bring a traitor to justice wherever he met them, and the so-called "Sin'Dorei" were just that. First they consorted with Naga, then with the Horde, and then with those demons in Outland. He didn't understand why the dragons insisted that they should be tolerated by decent folk. His meaty fist wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword, and he waited for her to give him an excuse to break the enforced sanctuary.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Pardon, sir Knight, but could you lend me aid?" she asked in strangely-accented common. Damn elves butchered his language so badly, he was glad that most of them now refused to even speak it.
He looked her over. She was slight, dressed in dark, supple leathers, her burnished-bronze hair pulled back in a low tail. He'd been approached by her type before. They looked sweet and innocent, lured you into a shadowed close where five or six of their friends waited, and if you were left with your life, you were lucky.
Looked like she picked the wrong mark this time. "What kind of aid?" He didn't bother to hide his gruffness or irritation, hoping she'd get the message to go bother someone else.
She didn't. Instead, she smiled and gave a strange little wiggle. "My hawkstrider seems to have bolted. I don't think she liked it much down here. I need to get back up to the surface. Could I trouble you for a ride?" She motioned to his hog with its folded-away sidecar.
"Why don't you just have one of the dragons give you a lift?"
"I get airsick."
He tamped down on a pang of sympathy. He didn't much like flying himself - all that up and down. It was why he'd ridden his hog down in the first place. But maybe she knew that, and her friends were up in the desert instead of hiding in the shadows of the cave.
"Please?" She said, mistaking his hesitation. "You're the only person I've seen here besides myself with some kind of transportation. Most everyone else just takes the drakes. And that's a really long walk."
The face she made was just… strange. The big, doe-eyes he understood, but he couldn't figure why she puffed cheeks out slightly. It threw him off, and he found himself nodding in bemusement. Elves. They were all a little weird, but this one…she seemed young, no older than his daughter would have been had she survived the Scourge attack on Lordaeron.
In fact, she reminded him an awful lot of Polly - those same guileless eyes and gamine's grin. What the hell was she doing in the Caverns to begin with? She was no adventurer. He voiced the question before he could think.
She wavered from foot to foot, the soft leather toes of her boots curling in the sand. He wondered if she was going to answer, and wondered even more that he was curious to see what she would say. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, and he was ashamed to notice that she wasn't that young. He forced his eyes up again.
"My parents. They're… gone. I was hoping I could come here and… save them. But the dragons… they won't help. They don't care."
She had him, then. Didn't even matter if she was telling the truth. It was the reason he'd come here himself. Polly and Mary gone forever, and his son turned into one of those monstrous Death Knights. All his life he'd been a loyal soldier for the Alliance, and now those damned wyrms couldn't be bothered to do this one little thing. Like it fucking mattered to the fate of the world whether his family lived or died.
Gerard saw red. The little blood-elf girl *could* have been Polly, come to save him just like he tried to save her. He turned to his hog with a growl. "Get in. Keep your head down. If anyone sees me helping out one of your kind, I'll lose my commission. I'll give you a ride to Gadgetzan. From there, you're on your own." After all, camaraderie in misery only went so far.
A look flashed across her face as he slung a leg over the seat of the hog. It was sympathy, so pure that it seemed timeless. He slammed his helmet on before she could see the tears filling his eyes, but not before he heard her quiet words.
"Thank you. I hope that I can repay you someday, Gerard."
It was only after Gadgetzan and the young elf were dust in his trail that he thought to wonder how she knew his name.
REDUX
Sir Gerard the Good owed his name more to his fortune and his pleasant nature than his high morals. He was a tad fonder of his drink than was proper, and his taste in humor was on the ribald side, but with so many losses over the past years, a man did what was needed to keep his spirits up. So the frown that marred his face when the little blood-elf girl approached was unusual, and the hand that wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword, was more due to caution than aggression. He waited to see what would cause the girl to cross enemy lines to speak to him.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Pardon, sir Knight, but could you lend me aid?" she asked in strangely-accented common. Damn elves never could get a grasp on the tongue. Probably the real reason that most of them now refused to even speak it.
He looked her over. She was slight, dressed in dark, supple leathers, her burnished-bronze hair pulled back in a low tail. If he were a more suspicious sort, he'd suspect that she was the kind to lure you into a shadowed close where five or six of her friends waited. The kind that left you with only your life, and even then only if you were lucky.
Well, if she was, she'd picked the wrong mark this time. "What kind of aid?" His answer was gruff. He was here on a promise, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. Also, it looked bad, him consorting with the enemy. He hoped she'd get the message to go bother someone else.
She didn't. Instead, she smiled and gave a strange little wiggle. "My hawkstrider seems to have bolted. I don't think she liked it much down here. I need to get back up to the surface. Could I trouble you for a ride?" She motioned to his hog with its folded-away sidecar.
"Why don't you just have one of the dragons give you a lift?"
"I get airsick."
He tamped down on a pang of sympathy. He didn't much like flying himself - all that up and down. It was why he'd ridden his hog down here in the first place. Damn fool's errand, and a waste of his time, but a promise was a promise.
"Please?" She said, mistaking his hesitation. "You're the only person I've seen here besides myself with some kind of transportation. Most everyone else just takes the drakes. And that's a really long walk."
The face she made was just… strange. The big, doe-eyes he understood, but he couldn't figure why she puffed cheeks out slightly. It threw him off, and he found himself nodding in bemusement. Elves. They were all a little weird, but this one…she seemed young. She couldn't be much older than his daughter, Polly.
In fact, she reminded him an awful lot of Polly - those same guileless eyes and gamine's grin. What the hell was she doing in the Caverns to begin with? She was no adventurer. He voiced the question before he could think.
She wavered from foot to foot, the soft leather toes of her boots curling in the sand. He wondered if she was going to answer, and wondered even more that he was curious to see what she would say. She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, and he was ashamed to notice that she wasn't that young. Good thing Mary was back in Stormwind. She'd have his head for looking. He forced his eyes up again.
"My parents. They're… gone. I was hoping I could come here and… save them. But the dragons… they won't help. They don't care."
She had him, then. This was it, and he'd almost missed it. His heart pounded in his chest, and the hand gripping his sword trembled slightly. It was a terrifying thought, to know that your entire life could hang on the balance of such a tiny act. He swallowed and hoped in her youth that she mistook his reaction.
He turned to his hog to better hide that reaction, growling, "Get in. Keep your head down. If anyone sees me helping out one of your kind, I'll lose my commission. I'll give you a ride to Gadgetzan. From there, you're on your own."
A look flashed across her face as he slung a leg over the seat of the hog. It was sympathy, so pure that it seemed timeless. He slammed his helmet on before she could see the relief filling his eyes, but not before he heard her quiet words.
"Thank you. I hope that I can repay you someday, Gerard."
It was only after Gadgetzan and the young elf were dust in his trail that he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Then he headed home to his wife and daughter and son as fast as his hearthstone could take him.