Gregor hefted his mighty twohanded battleaxe unto his shoulder, with ease. A moment later he vanished into the dense forest of Pandaria. He kept a sure grip on his weapon, prepared to cleave the skull, of any would be attacker. Every few feet he’s forced to swing his ax to cut his way through the dense undergrowth surrounding him. Grundel and he had been asked by Izzabelle’s Father, to locate her. He had felt a change in her and realized they needed to have the talk, not that talk, the other talk. As he moves through the trees, keeping his senses honed in on everything around him, he thinks back…
The first time he had met young Izzabelle, she had been in a fever induced coma. None of the Wildhammer priests had been able to discern the cause of the malady that had struck the young child. Her father, her, and a small entourage of Dwarfs were bringing the child to Ironforge. They had hopes the Dwarven High Clerics there would be able to help. With the rise of attacks along the road to Ironforge, the Father has hired a group of adventures, from The Company of Heaven and Hell to escort them. His brother Grundel and he had been a part of that group. He will admit he was a bit surprised when he realized that the Father was a Gnome and the child a young High Elf. It was a good thing they had hired an escort, the group had been attacked by band of trolls shortly after leaving the safety of Wildhammer lands. The hired bodyguards made short work of the trolls, sadly one of the entourage was lost in the skirmish. They had only been in Loch Moden a short time when young Izzabelle took a turn for the worse. Even in her comatose state she was crying out it pain, the fever was causing patches of her flesh to start burning. She most likely would have died, had it not been for a group of Dark Irons that were making there way north.
Amongst the group of them was a powerful Warlock, well versed in the knowledge of all things fel. He realized quickly what was ailing the High Elf Child. Gregor remembered well the look on the Gnome Fathers face when he was told. “Your daughter, isn’t a pure blood High Elf, she’s a half demon. Her demonic half is to strong for her mind and body to handle. There needs to be a ritual preformed to put limits on her fel. Until a time comes that her body is capable of handling that type of power.” Most of them thought the Gnome would be devastated to discover his young daughter was actually a demon. Yet it seemed he was only worried about making her better. The Warlock had said with fel as strong as hers at such a young age. It would be best for them to bring young Izzabelle back to Blackrock Mountain. Where they could perform the needed ritual, to limit the fel, thus saving the child’s life. The Dark Irons used a gateway that allowed them all to portal to their destination. An emergency council was held, shortly after that, young Izzabelle was taken away by a group of Dark Irons to have the ritual done on her.
It took al ost a half day for the ritual to be finished. The Dark Iron clan has lost a few of its younger Warlocks to the ritual. Izzabelle’s demonhalf did not wish to be limited and it had surprised a group of younger Locks, when it fought back. Now however the limits were in place. The Dark Iron they met, offered to raise her, he said she would need to be trained in how to harness and control her fel abilities. The Gnome thanked him, but he would be returning to his home amongst the Wildhammers with his daughter. A few days later young Izzabelle was well enough not only to travel, but also to cause no end of mischief. That little Imp was a born thief, she had stolen two bottles of his best ale and a quarter of Grundel’s baubles, before she was caught, not as much caught stealing as caught playing with the gems while trying to open the bottle. After that everyone kept a better eye on their belongings. If something was missing they knew exactly where to locate it.
Still Young Izzabelle had made a lasting impression on The Whole lot of them. Now she had just vanished into thin air, Gregor swore that he would find her, he knew she might not look the same. The limiters on her fel had been destroyed, her Father had sensed them weakening when she last visited, before disappearing.
His thoughts are interrupted by the human Paladin Myrandah, calling him and Grundel for aide. The Dwarf turns and Charges through the trees making his way towards the sound of battle