Tavern in the Mists (IC, Open, Story Share)

Lore World's End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
1

Pandaria has seen its share of conflict between the Horde and Alliance. The Vale still bears the scars of a Warchief’s mad grab for power. Scars that may never heal. But the land itself is also testament to the bonds forged across faction lines. One tavern in particular has played host to odd friendships before.

And now, rumors have begun to swirl. Whispers of the N’zoth’s servants moving in the shadows. Champions from both sides have begun to trickle back to Pandaria, and the small Tavern finds itself once again playing host to a wide variety of characters.

Some are here to gather news, others to swap stories, and a few… a few are here to see if old friends, and old friendships, have survived the recent conflict.

So grab your mug, pick a seat, and enjoy the sharing of stories.

This is a thread for your character to share their stories in character, or do minor role play about reuniting with friends (or other OC’s) across faction. Or just listen and react to others stories. As the Tavern plays host to both factions small scuffles and pointed words are sure to ensue, but Tong, and the host of the event, Jaeho, have taken steps to ensure that the peace is kept.

———————————————————————

“Remind me why I agreed to this.” Tong said, unfurling the red Horde banner on one side of the Tavern.

“The Alliance and the Horde need each other, now more than ever.” Jaeho said, nudging a chair into place. “And what better way to mend the divide then with good drinks and old friends.”

“Some of these champions have killed each other’s friends!” Tong argued.

Jaeho laughed.

“The Halls of Valor are filled with Warriors who have killed each other and each others friends.” He said. “They seem to get along fine.”

“Not everyone is so… forgiving.” Tong said. “For example our two long term guests.”

He gestured to a Night Elf Death Knight, sitting on the Alliance side and pointedly ignoring a red dragon in the guise of a Blood Elf mage who was glaring daggers at him from the Horde side.

“Well.” Jaeho said, scratching his chin. “Some may need a bit more drink than others.”

He slung his arm around the other Pandaren.

“And if not the Iron Paw will keep the peace.” He said, gesturing to the steely eyed monks seated at various intervals.

2

A gilnean mage clad in fine ebony, gold and cerulean blue robes, a matching cloak and hood, quietly made her way up the path leading to the Tavern in the Mists. Her long, pale gold hair spilled out from the sides of her hood, while her soft silvery-blue eyes remained shrouded under the garment. Perched on her left shoulder, was a large, silvery-white owl, with long, ear-like feather tufts on its head. Her companion’s feathers were puffed up to retain heat, in the cold mountain air, and its ear tufts were raised as it peered around wearily.

The woman let out a sigh as she finally reached the entrance of the tavern, silently mulling over the latest confrontation with her estranged mother Thea in Dalaran. The meeting had not gone over well, as their issues from the past were brought to the forefront of their discussions, which quickly prompted her to seek out refuge in Pandaria to clear her head and take time away from her studies.

Once she made her way over to the entrance, she maneuvered carefully to open the door in a way that wouldn’t startle her owl, before making her way inside. She peered around for a moment, before taking note of the Horde and Alliance banners being set in place; sighing internally, when she realized that there was a possibility of lingering tensions. Though she has declared neutral since her enrollment in Dalaran, she was never particularly fond of how both factions seemed to have both their extremes. Though given how her mentor was Sin’dorei, she mostly leaned toward the Horde’s views. She quietly made her way toward the bar and took a seat, giving the pandaren bartender a look of reassurance when she whispered soothing words to her owl, who was bristling at the tension in the room.

She then turned her attention back to the bartender, as she pulled out a small, yet fat coin purse from her satchel. Placing a few gold coins to cover the drink and a tip, as she did so. “May I have a glass of plum wine?” She asked softly, her gilnean accent was light, and sounded somewhat elven, due to having learned Thalassian during her time spent in Dalaran outside her usual magic studies.

3

Tong sighed and tossed a glass to the other Pandaren, who placed it under a single unlabeled barrel. The wood of the barrel was old, but the metal bindings are new, and engraved with a spiraling script in Pandaren.

“Plum Wine coming up.” The monk said, opening the spigot.

Those with keen vision would notice the contents changing as it poured, from clear water to a rich purple liquid. The aroma of plum wine fills the air, bringing with it an indescribable aroma that somehow reminds you of better times.

Those with attunement to magic would notice first the burns on the cask, remnants of a sha attack, followed by the binding spells on the iron, and the separate, and far more mundane, enchantment on the wood itself.

The monk slid the beverage to you, snagging the coins as he did so.

4

A Blood Elf Warlock entered the bar, glancing around quickly, almost frantically, before heading towards a shadowed corner.

He did not make it.

A Night Elf Demon Hunter barged into the Tavern, eyes fixated on the Warlock even before he entered the building.

“You!” He snarled.

The Warlock stopped, sighing.

“So you survived.” He said dryly. “Wonderful.”

“I heard about your actions at Darnassus.” The Demon Hunter snarled. “I…”

He took a deep breath.

“I owe you a drink.”

5

The mage remained silent as the barkeeper poured her wine from the keg, and gave the glass to her. She offered a wearily smile to the barkeeper to display a pleasant façade, to avoid furthering tensions in the tavern. She murmured a thanks to him, before picking up her glass an taking a seat at an empty table close to the door.

She sipped her wine in silence, as she wearily observed those present in the tavern. Almost feeling the tension simmer, as she noticed the Sin’dorei mage glaring daggers at the Kaldorei death knight in the tavern. Tension was the last thing she needed to deal with, after her confrontation with her mother, and it had already took some time to calm down enough to return to her human form, and she didn’t want to trigger her transformation unless she had to.

Her attention was almost immediately drawn to the Sin’dorei warlock wearily entering the bar, followed shortly after by a Kaldorei demon hunter. She braced herself for a heated dispute, when she heard the demon hunter address the warlock in a sharp tone, before the demon hunter unexpectedly spoke to him in a somewhat pleasant demeanor.

Before she could listen any further, the crystal orb in her satchel thrummed to life, as her step father’s second cousin Maliyah Layton tried to contact her through scrying orb. Heaving a sigh, she sifts through her satchel, before pulling out the orb. She was greeted by the image of a young gilnean druidess with jade green eyes and long blonde hair. “What is it Maliyah?” She questioned, her tension rising slightly, as she had a feeling of what the younger woman would ask.

“I wanted to ask about your confrontation with Th-” Maliyah was quickly cut off.

“I already told her and Brodold that the answer was no. I can’t be expected to remain idle at the estate in Hillsbrad to fight the Horde who still fight peace, when I’m due to make my way to Uldum in the coming weeks. I’m a representative of the Kirin Tor, not a addition to the Alliance’s war machine. Besides, I can’t risk breaking the agreement I had with Iranil’s family, to avoid opening old wounds caused by this recent war. The alliance between our families are crucial, now that we seem to be facing a new threat greater than the faction conflict.” She said firmly, though still keeping her voice lowered enough to keep the conversation between the two of them.

Maliyah sighed heavily and nodded. “I know. I heard about the conflict in Nazjatar.” The druidess sighed, as she looked up at her. “I’m trying to convince my husband to allow me to leave the estate, but it seems that rebuilding our numbers have become a priority, now that soldiers on both sides have been losing significant numbers.” She sighed.

Kalinda nodded slightly, lowering her shoulder as her owl Varia hopped off and settled on the table. Her ivory feathers inflated, as she peered around wearily. Her tufts fully erect, as she did so. “I see… Look, I know my mother wants to make amends for cutting off contact from me for twenty-two years after the construction of the wall, likely for the sake of going by her new husbands wishes. But agreeing with her, may go against everything I trained for over the years.” She explained, trying to keep her expression calm, though she was starting to become exasperated.

The druidess sighed in defeat, before speaking once more. “I understand. Though if you do change your mind, let us know. Since my mother’s death, tensions between our family and the Horde have become more prominent, even in spite of the ceasefire, though those that remain in the estate are trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire of the remaining skirmishes, so I can understand your concern.” She added, before finally ending the contact.

Kalinda let out a deep breath, before slipping the orb back in the satchel, before downing what remained of her wine in a long swig. Sliding her glass aside, she let out a deep breath and leaned on the table. Pinching the bridge of her nose, as she did so. Ever since the recent war between the Horde and Alliance began, it seemed that the worst aspects of her past were coming back to haunt her.

She knew all to well what kind of man her father Roderick Blackthorne had become, after the Sin’dorei left the Alliance and that he was the reason why her mother in law Alariah had been killed in Stormheim out of spite for betraying him to aid the Naga. All the while, her mother blamed her undead uncle for the death of Maliyah’s mother Regina. Now she was uncertain of which of her parents to trust less, let alone which faction she should trust more.

6

Jaeho watched the Warlock and Demon Hunter until he was sure they were not a threat, before turning back to the Mage, who had retreated back to the table.

He could see an aura rise around her, faint but present. The Sha infestation had long since been quelled, but remnants still haunted the land. Not enough to cause much trouble, but enough to signify when someone could use a friend.

He poured another glass of plum wine and made his way over.

“You look like you could use a friend.” He said. He had always found honesty to be a good policy. “Here. This one’s on me.”

7

Vaedalan watched Zendak’s face.

There was the typical sneer, but beneath it.

”You owe me nothing.” The Warlock said. “Just as I now owe you nothing. I was repaying a debt, nothing more.”

“You did not have to save them.” The Demon Hunter snarled, his voice guttural despite his attempts to soften it. “Especially with your Warchief watching.”

The Warlock glanced around as if to check for any listeners, then turned back.

“And you did not have to come back for me on Argus.” He said. “We all have moments of weakness.”

There was a long moment of silence, then…

“So about that drink…” The Warlock said.

“Anything you want.” The Demon Hunter replied.

“I am running low on souls…”

Vaedalan laughed.

“Any beverage you want.” He clarified.

This time the Warlock smiled.

“You may regret that before the night is over.” He said.

8

Vaellriand watched the red dragon with a smile.

Since being granted his freedom from the Lich King he had found he had a particular knack for getting under other’s skins. It was one of the few things that he actually enjoyed since his death.

The fact that it often led to fights was just a bonus. It had been two days since he had finished carving apart the marauding saurok in the area and the urges were beginning to creep back into his mind.

He began to hum, working out a tune in his head. Then he began to sing.

“There were some old bones on a hill,
Lying all quiet and still…”

The table began to smoke as the red dragon’s elven hand burst into flame.

9

Kalinda flinched slightly out of her deep thought, when she heard someone approach her and speak to her. She raised a brow, when she noticed that it was the pandaren that served her at the bar offering her another drink. She lifted her head and smiled wearily, as she looked up at him. “Thank you, you didn’t have to.” She replied, though she accepted the gift, to avoid being rude.

“I’m sorry if I caused any commotion, but I suppose family matters needed attending to.” She added, slowly removing her hood, now that it was starting to become hot and uncomfortable. Three, mostly healed laceration scars could be seen running from the top of her left brow and down to her jawline, from her sparing with another worgen mage in Dalaran weeks before arriving in Pandaria. A monocle was fixed against her left eye to aid her sight in the damaged eye, as the damage was mostly minimal.

She suddenly paused, when she smelled smoke. She turned in the direction of the apparent Sin’dorei mage, as his hand was enveloped with fire magic. Her body tensed, as she prepared her a potential conflict to start. Though she kept seated until the death knight and other mage both acted openly hostile to each other. Though it was clear that the death knight was trying to provoke the mage. She eyed the pair wearily for a moment, before turning around and shaking her head. “Bloody death knights…” She murmured in Thalassian and turned her attention back to the pandaren.

10

Vaellriand’s song died on his lips as the Demon Hunter suddenly turned and grabbed his shoulder with one hand, the other latching onto his helm and tearing it off with surprising strength.

His blade was halfway out of his sheath before he saw the face staring back at him. Saw the all too familiar features beneath the scales and fel tattoos.

Saw the same shock filter across a face he could never forget.

The words fell from both lips at the same time.

“What happened to you?”

11

Jaeho laughed as the Demon Hunter and the Death Knight stared at each other.

“It appears you are not the only one.” He said. “Though something tells me your story is not as happy as an overdue reunion.”

He lifted his own drink, a stout ale with a smell that brought to mind long days on the open road.

“My father always said we were given two ears for a reason.” He said. “One to listen to our heart. And one to listen to the hearts of others.”

He laughed.

“He was not a eloquent fellow, but he was a wise one.” He said. “Come, tell me what troubles you.”

12

(Finally have this character’s avatar showing, so I will post on here on this character from now on. Also, I apologize if I made any mistakes with the timeline, it’s kind of all over the place as it is.)

Kalinda paused, when she noticed the demon hunter approach the death knight and removed his helm. She braced herself for the death knight reacting negatively to the gesture, relaxed slightly when the situation took an unexpected turn. Letting out a soft breath of relief, she turned her attention back to the pandaren and smiled wearily.

She found his people to be intriguing and pleasant to be around, after her first encounter with them years ago during the initial campaign in Pandaria. Once the initial faction conflict at that time had been resolved. Though of course, she was expected to learn all languages and customs of other mages that came to Dalaran for their studies, in order to connect with them more.

Her smile faded slightly, as she looked up at him. “Well, it was more of a proposal to try and get myself involved with a side of my family I barely know. You see… I was sent to Dalaran at the age of six, when my talent for magic began to show, a few years before the wall surrounding Gilneas was built. And I barely had contact with my mother’s side of the family the twenty years that followed after the walls construction, and as a result: I’m not certain if they still cling to independence, or have chosen to side with the Alliance after this recent war. As a member of the Kirin Tor, I don’t wish to get involved with petty disputes, in spite the tragedies this war has caused. Which is why I still keep ties with the Sin’dorei family I married into through my mentor and children, in spite of my husband’s death. I found that it would be in our best interests to keep the agreement to at least aid each other in coming conflicts, knowing that both our families faced heavy casualties over the recent years.” She sighed, as she took a long swig of plum wine from her glass, before placing it back on the table.

“I understand if it may sound petty. I just simply don’t know what to expect if I get involved with my mother’s family, after becoming closer to my late husband’s family over the years. And if they have chosen to fully side with the Alliance after this recent conflict, I have no desire to get involved, to avoid breaking oaths with the Kirin Tor.” She explained with a sigh, as she looked up at him. “Though I assume you understand not wanting to get involved with unwanted conflict, yes?”

13

The Monk listens intently, then scratches his chin.

“What was it that old goblin used to say…” He mused. “Something about blood and water…”

14

“The blood of the battlefield is thicker than the water of the womb.” A voice said.

A rogue in blue leather with gaudy gold trim slid onto the seat next to the Pandaren, and tipped his rather large hat in the Mage’s direction.

“Means that the bonds we forge by choice are stronger than those we are born into.” He said. “Of course if I remember correctly the old goblin also said that money was thicker than both, so he may not have been the best one to get your advice from.”

He shrugged.

“As for me, I’ve always found it easy to determine where my allegiance lies with one simple question. If your world fell apart today, whose door would you show up at, knowing they’d offer you shelter no matter what?”

15

With the casual gesture of a gloved hand, Mahli’ficia muttered a simple cantrip beneath her breath that caused the doors to the inn to gently slide open.

Striding inside would be a light blue skinned void elf, shrouded in a glimmering cloak that twinkled with small lights like a clear night’s sky, and a brass colored mantle that jutted like fangs upon her shoulders; with deep blue hair tied into a long ponytail that trailed all the way down to her middle back.

Pausing for a moment, she gazed around with shimmering blue eyes to take in the sights.

"A Death Knight, a Demon Hunter and a Warlock walks into a bar… "

Mahli’ficia mused as she watched the unique clientele.

For a brief moment she thought she had walked into something very different, but the pandaren that crowded around a gilnean and a human mage seemed normal enough, which meant that this was not a cult. Probably.

“You take me to such exciting places!” A playful voice snickered in her ear.

Any demon hunter that looked at Mahli’ficia might notice a demonic presence about the Ren’Dorei.

“Hands off the patrons.” Mahli’ficia instructed in a low tone, as she took a moment to study the various clients.

She quickly decided she’d steer clear of the two blood elves. One was clearly a warlock; which automatically put his trustworthiness and sanity into question; and the other had an ‘eccentric’ mannerism at best for being a presumably educated Sin’Dorei - that was on top of looking like a volcano about to blow!
The Demon Hunter seemed to be getting along with the aforementioned blood elf, but although she knew some of their illidari order, Mahli’ficia did not recognize this one.
And then there was the Death Knight. What an undead was doing in the tavern she could not fathom. It was likely not anything to do with drink, food or rest. Perhaps he had simply come to haunt the living? If so it seemed he was already making good progress with the blood elf.

" … hopefully this place does not get blown up within the next five minutes." She quietly thought.

Although both sides seemed to have a roughly equal distribution of loonies, Mahli’ficia turned and walked over to the alliance side, approaching Jaeho.

Judging by his good mood and the size of his girth, he was probably one of the more important local pandaren around.

Yet when she approached, the mention of ‘Kirin Tor’ by the gilnean drew Mahli’ficia’s attention towards the woman. Was this Gilnean involved with the mages of Dalaran? That could at least give them some common ground.

“Bal’a dash, Pandaren. Do you have any rooms available?” Mahli’ficia asked in her refined voice as she reached Jaeho, standing next to Kalinda and Kaesiris.

16

“Tong!” Jaeho called. “Patron looking forward a room.”

Another Pandaren, scrubbing the table where the Blood Elf’s hand had burned it, turned.

“Tong owns the Tavern.” Jaeho said. “I just rented it for this little gathering.”

“And offered to cover any damages.” Tong said, in a weary tone. “Now, traveler, we do have several rooms available, if you will follow me.”

He turns and makes his way towards the stairs.

“Are you here on business?” He asked. “Or just passing through?”

17

The answers fell from both lips almost simultaneously.

“Illidan.”

“Arthas.”

“Heard you were dead.”

“Heard the same about you.”

Vaedalan took a breath.

“You look…” he trailed off.

“Horrible? Terrifying? Dead?” Vaellriand sneered.

“Yes.” Vaedalan said.

“Have you looked in a mirror, dear brother?” The Death Knight replied, voice dripping with venom.

“They tend to break when I do that.” Vaedalan said. “Our nephew will be overjoyed to learn…”

“You will tell him nothing.” Vaellriand said. “You will make no mention of this to anyone, and if you value your life you will leave me alone like you did when the Burning Legion first threatened this world.”

He shoved his chair back rising to his feet.

“We are done talking.” He said, pushing past the Demon Hunter and exiting the Tavern.

Vaedalan stared after him for a moment, then he steeped himself and followed his brother out into the cold.

A few minutes later the Blood Elven Mage stood and slipped out a side door.

18

“Are you here on business?” Tong asked. “Or just passing through?”

“I believe it would be business.” Mahli’ficia said as she followed Tong up the stairs.
“The current state of the world is not exactly conducive to tourism, I am afraid. It would seem that in the last half of a century that Azeroth has kept a steady decline towards oblivion.”

“Which is such a shame, as I have only just gotten to it,-” A melodic voice would begin to say, but was interrupted by the sound of a slap.

“Speaking of the rooms, I would prefer one with some open space; preferable the uppermost one.” Mahli’ficia continued, but not without throwing a brief glance behind her from the way they had come, then back to Tong walking in front.

The pandaren were a strange people; and in many ways, a very tragic one as well. They were a cheerful and optimistic race that had recently been returned to a world of constant strife and chaos. It made Mahli’ficia wonder how they handled it. Surely it must have been a shock to their collective psyche.

“Your friend appears to have put a lot of effort into the gathering back there. What does he hope to achieve by it?”

19

Kalinda opened her mouth to respond to the pandaren Jaeho, when a human male suddenly approached them and spoke. She smiled wearily, as she considered the man’s words. However, she knew that she still had to work things out with her mother, before she could consider getting involved with their affairs in a limited degree.

She cleared her throat wearily, as she turned her attention to the new male. She was inexperienced with human men that weren’t mages, which made her self-conscious of her more refined speak as she responded to him. “I suppose that is something to consider, though my mentor suggested it would be best for me to connect with them again. He believes that it could forge a stronger connection between our families, in spite the problems he had caused for my late husband’s family, in the name of the Alliance.” She sighed, as she polished off her wine glass. Given how strong the plum wine was, she was already starting to feel a bit tipsy from downing two glasses in in a short period of time.

20

“You will have to ask him yourself.” Tong said. “When I asked all he told me was that it was long overdue, and not to worry.”

He snorted.

“Hmph! If I worry it is because the last patron who entertained guests from your factions ended up trashing my inn and wasting a particularly delicious pot of tea!”

He stood outside a room on the upper level. The doorway is filled with king strands of beads, acting as an effective, and noisy, curtain.

“The fee is ten gold per night, food and drink not included.” He said. “You can pay upfront, or start a tab. Though if you choose the later I will need your name and some form of collateral.”