I’ll start by saying I have no idea what I’m doing, I apologize for any grammar mistakes.
Thanks for hosting this contest, and for reading my story if you decide to.
Love, Eastloc.
Drustbar Memory
Once, on a trip to Drustvar, I arrived feeling particularly sore after having ridden a gryphon all the way from Seekers Vista up in Stormsong Valley. I had been there after being asked to deal with some Naga that had pushed too far north from the long-troubled Fort Daelin. In the end I traded two things for a fair bit of gold: my spells to dispatch the Naga, and a story involving a middle-aged man responsible for a young boy, who ended up trapping them on the wrong side of a pass in northwest Storm Peaks during an awful snow, the two taking shelter under Frostworg Pelts for 6 days before being rescued. As you well know, the Tortollans love a good yarn - and I was happy to provide. This particular time I didn’t turn up in Drustvar alone - I was accompanied by my good friend Sbeck - a fellow human prone to occasional bouts of drinking, never ending quite as well as he hoped. A practiced mage, with experience dating back to the third war, he had a keen mind and did not suffer fools. On this particular day, I noticed a look in his eye that reminded me of a time he confided in me about a woman he had met in a bar in Dalaran - the woman had changed him, he said, made him laugh harder than anyone else. I could tell by looking at him that he was in a good mood, and that paired well with how sore I was for my coming suggestion of drink - “Well we’ve finally arrived in Drustvar, should we push over to the Drustbar?”.
Sbeck was pulled out of his reverie, “Absolutely” he said.
The hole in the cliff that housed the Drustbar was a respite from the gray atmosphere of Drustvar. Well lit, with long tables and numerous places to relax, it invited a feeling of comfort and ease. The stone walls were lined with deep colorful pictures of landscapes and days gone by. Clean rugs lined the floor, giving your feet a rest. A steady buzz of conversation always filled the air. Plenty of seedy characters inhabited the place, sure, but they were all bound by a common interest - to mind their own business and have a few beers. The patrons were further held in line by an employee named Lleid, a respected rogue tougher than thrice-cooked boar meat, heard to backed up by long-time Coldridge Company members. Thankfully, he was a long-time friend of ours.
Sbeck walked in first, staff on his back, standing half a head taller than Lleid. He took off his cap and addressed him, “Hi, Lleid, happy the holidays are through?”.
“Of course, Sbeck” said Lleid, nodding at the same time, “I must have picked up the remains of 200 Crashin’ Thrashing Battleships in here on the 25th of Winter Veil at least. What was going through Ol’ Winter’s head, giving those out?”.
I stepped beside Sbeck, shaking Lleid’s hand, “I swear there’s still some holly on every gryphon I come across” I said, grinning.
Lleid blew out air, “Well boys, it’s good to see you again.”
Sbeck and I started towards the bar, but Lleid stopped us. “Hey fellas, wait up - I have a small favor to ask you. See those boys on the 2nd table to the left?”. He motioned slightly with his head towards where he meant. “I’ll give you three drinks each - Acialga’s working the bar tonight so she’ll agree - if you can port them out of here. Doesn’t matter where. They’re family of my old lady, so I can’t kick them out without getting an earful, but if you guys handle it it’ll be alright. They’re drinking by the kegful and paying family price, so it’s no good for us if they keep going at this rate.”
I looked at Sbeck, raised my eyebrows, tilted my head to one side, and shrugged. Sbeck looked indifferent, but agreed, hoping to stay in Lleid’s good graces. “Sure thing,” he said.
Lleid cupped a bright light above him, then uncovered it, which got Acialga’s attention. He motioned to us and then to her, holding up three small throwing daggers he procured seemingly from nowhere. She nodded, and moved to pour a drink for each of us.
Sbeck and I drank the first beer quickly for thirst, then began on the second for taste. We walked over to the table the boys were at. Sbeck addressed them politely: “Evening lads, how are we?”. In these days, boys were not generally courteous. “Bug off man” said one in a grey shirt.
Sbeck frowned. Moving three paces to his left so that he stood at the head of the table, he began to summon a portal. The boys looked at him, with an air of expectation, considering what this mage might be up to. Sbeck finished, then began summoning another portal in the same place. He finished. He then downed the rest of his beer. The boys looked at each other, working out a way to deal with him. He commenced on a third portal - again in the same place. I laughed, and leaned on one of the boys’ shoulders. He looked up, annoyed - I grinned and raised my eyebrows mischievously. He narrowed his eyebrows, and moved his shoulder slightly, putting me off balance so that I had to stand straight again. By then, Sbeck had finished the third portal. I finished my second beer, brought the two empty glasses to the bar, and took each of the third beers back to the table. By this time, Sbeck was working on his fourth portal, his eyes slightly furrowed in concentration. Two of the boys were standing near him, speaking at him above conversational volume. “Listen here, you bum, try getting your own space for this nonsense” the boy on Sbeck’s right side said.
Sbeck ignored him, finished the fourth portal, took three full gulps of his last beer, then started on the fifth portal. By now, the blue waves of the portals were indistinguishable from each other, each showing a glimpse of its destination for a mere moment. I could make out Stormwind, but the others were a jumbled mess. I sat down on the bench in a spot nearest to Sbeck on his left side, and began to speak towards the boys. “Well fellas, it’s common knowledge that each bar of a certain size has a Mage. This,” I said smiling broadly and motioning towards Sbeck, “is Sbeck, and here, he is that mage.” Each of the boys eyes were now on me, none of them friendly. “Once,” I continued majestically, “he was left upon the spires of Nighthold, alone, except for his water elemental, with an army of evil Nightborne bearing down on him. He survived, and tells no one the story of how he got out.” I took a swig of my beer. “Another time, he fought a whale shark 90 meters deep for three hours in the cold, deep, waters of Draenor. He’s won more duels than I can count. He’s loved women so thoroughly and often he swears he’s from a generation of mages that knows more about their nipples than conjuring wate-”
At this moment, I saw Sbecks eyes light up, but they weren’t concentrated on his portals, or my distraction story. I followed his eyes and looked at the entrance of the bar. Two female Draenei had their drinking arms intertwined so they stood face to face, draining their glasses to a toast. Certainly, they were beautiful. I looked back at Sbeck, who had taken step forward towards the Draenei, walking and drinking his beer at the same time, mug covering most of his face. He tripped - stepping on one of the two boys’ boots, and plunged forward towards his portals. An instant later he was gone, mug clinking abruptly on the floor.
It’s been 9 years, and I haven’t seen him since.