Introduction : This short story is an effort by me to practice my story writing skills. As i find fan-fictions a very creative, and efficient way to improve your English by constantly trying to use synonyms for different words to describe a scene fittingly and to demonstrate your skill in describing a scene or an object with such detail that the reader can understand perfectly.

The story was not supposed to be a Warcraft short, but in the end I preferred it to take place in Warcraft universe. but i tried to stay away from what someone described as an "childish fantasy" and decided to give it a more -medieval- feeling. meaning that in my story the theme will be purely medieval, in which women are not treated equally, and children are not treated with respect, and you see disturbing scenes on a daily basis.

The story is incomplete, but I'll add more to the story soon. but feel free to write your opinions about different parts of the story, be it a criticism or a question. And I'll gladly try to address them the best way I can.



The Journey

He raised his empty pint as the tavern girl passed by him, his drunken eyes glimpsed over to the young nymph giggling and nodding at his plea like the devil would, fiendishly, laugh at any hapless human willingly asking him for a sip of sin, and then watch them sate themselves in it and give themselves away.

He lowered his pint and locked his eyes once more on its bottom, peering into the random patterns on its wooden surface as if they were etched words of wisdom from a higher entity telling him of the fortunes ahead.

The tavern wench bended suggestively and lowered the tip of the vase she was holding, and poured into his pint. The sight of her uncovered legs raised lust-filled sounds of praise from the tables behind her. She slowly straightened herself with a joyful smile, denying them the brief pleasurable sight. Such young and innocent looking girl barely the age to have had her first bleeding, yet she perfectly knew the way to win her customers already: to satisfy yet leave them wanting for more.

She playfully turned around to look for more poor souls in need. Be it to quelch their thirst, or to cheer up the gloomy ones, or to help the desperate forget their life for just a night.

And yet, he was still remembering his, still reliving his past, still seeing the flames that consumed a friend, his friend, alive until his last shred of life was burnt away. The wounds of treachery still stung hard and teeth-grinding after all the years.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head, dragging his helpless mind away from the past and into the present. Into the gloomy dust-filled tavern at Menethil Harbor, sitting at his usual table on a dark corner away from the cheering crowd of drunk –creatures- surrounding him. These unknown someones* , these black dots sitting on their chairs and laughing with their drinking mates.

A mild breeze touched the skin on his face briefly and stole his attention from his drink, and his sorrow-riddled thoughts. He raised his head and looked at the tavern door, at the figure standing before the door frame still holding the door knob. The man was standing still, as if he was checking the tavern before deciding to enter.

Such a familiar face, such an unwelcome face, such unwanted memories. He knew who the man was looking for, but he wasn't going to make it any easier for him.

“If he’s so desperately searching for me, then what’s a little more effort to him?” he lowered his head and peered into the hazy surface of his drink, tempting him to grab the handle of his pint, bring it to his mouth, guzzle it all up and let the drink ease his mind off further.

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* Unknown someones : I'm still unsure if it makes sense in English. I'm trying to describe the protagonist's opinion about the people he sees at the tavern and his indifference about the world around him, my friend suggested "Unknown people" to be used instead.