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Arrival in Boralus, Part 2

“Land, ho!” The call from the lookout on top of the vessel as Kanas looked out of a nearby porthole along the Seabee’s portside below-deck. In the distance, sure enough, Kanas looked up from a small book he had been reading about his destination and could see the silhouette of what was surely land approaching along the horizon. From what was visible in the morning twilight, an imposing isle whose lofty peaks glistened with snow and mist were growing ever larger as the small steam vessel approached its destination port. Kul Tiras. He was finally here. He could finally begin his search for Falcarra. “Bring her in steady, shipmaster!” Mr. Screwhand called from the doorway as he hobbled onto onto heck. For a moment, Kanas caught a glimpse of the gnomish merchant and seaman seemingly popping off part of his thumb joint before gripping at his missing appendage with his other hand and then sticking a pipe in his mouth with a flash of flame. Which, of course, was when the elder gnome turned to catch Kanas gawking at the sight. “What’s the matter, Mr. Renard? Never seen a lighter before?” The gnome asked, puffing absently on the pipe. “Uh... well, yeah, but not quite from somebody’s thumb.” “Heh.” At this, Screwhand laughed. “I can’t say that I blame you there. Lost this arm of mine during the Second War... the engineers in Gnomeregan had quite a ball helping me find replacements. The lighter was originally added to my thumb as a joke, but ever since I’ve found it to be quite handy.” The next twenty minutes passed quickly just as the sun crested over the horizon, and in the morning light Kanas could see their destined port had already burst to life. Kanas could see already why the Kul Tirans reigned supreme on the seas even to this day; every inch of Boralus was a coastal metropolis, the very architecture speaking of the strength of arms and spirit of the maritime nation, right down to the sandy and green walls and gates of the inner harbor and the large anchor that symbolized the pride of Kul Tiras. “Secure our moorings with the crew, Mr. Billingsley! Shipmaster, bring us in nice and handsomely!” Screwhand bellowed as Kanas followed him out onto deck, Jed in tow. “Mr. Renard...? Welcome to Boralus, capital of Kul Tiras. Impressive, isn’t it?” “I’ll say,” Kanas nodded, still in awe at the sun dancing upon the morning eddies in the harbor as gulls cried out on the wind; Kanas could see various ships of all different sizes, of all different builds and and flags of different colors entering and exiting the harbor. “Biggest port I’ve ever seen was in Suramar, an’ this beats it by a country mile. Heck, Stormwind Harbor’s mighty impressive, an’ this makes it look tame.” “Heh. Take it in, lad; I know you described your business here as pressing, but this is a sight to be relished.” Screwhand began heading up to the wheelhouse, likely to consult his records. “I’ll see to the matter of collecting my fee from you when we’re safely docked.” “Yes sir,” Kanas nodded. still in awe of the sheer amount of ships and souls bustling in, out and throughtout the harbor metropolis. He had heard rumors and stories of Boralus’ grandeur, but to actually see it with his own eyes was impressive. Of course, Kanas himself had more pressing business than to merely ogle at the ancient might of the city of mariners. No, he had business to tend to that involved seeking out the one near and dear to him. Somewhere, be it in Boralus or beyond, Falcarra Nightstrider was trekking the island, barely able enough to lift herself off of the ground. He had to find her. The <i>Seabee</i> docked without incident, and Kanas paid his fee to Screwhand before being given clearance to merely even set foot in Kul Tiras by the blessing of the harbor master’s office, which was a chafing test of patience after being cooped up below deck for nearly three days. Kanas would have to remember that; while Kul Tiras was a land of human peoples, the nation itself was not part of the Alliance. He would have to step carefully and remember that here, any of his connections and past accomplishments meant absolutely nothing. Trekking from the deck, Kanas made his way through the Tradewinds Market, Jed in tow. The pair received some curious stares as they passed; for one thing, Kanas’ hat naturally drew attention at the time, and both his garb and demeanor clearly marked him an outsider. Where to start his search, however, eluded Kanas.,, and that was when he felt his stomach rumble. As much as he wanted to search for the love of his life, Kanas also knew that neglecting his own needs would make that search much harder... besides, for all he knew, she was on the other side of the isle; there was little point in going forward without gathering information. And so, he found himself at the Snug Harbor Inn, slipping a couple of gold coins across the counter for a bite to eat and a drink, As he waited at a far table for his fare, Kanas reached behind his chestpiece and pensively stared at a keepsake of his officer days; a medallion that had marked him as a ranking Marshal in the Alliance forces. The world’s burning and literally bleeding... and the woman I love is running head-long into it without thinking of the consequences, Kanas thought to himself. Darling, what on Azeroth did you see and experience that horrible day in Kalimdor? Light, let it be that she isn’t going to get herself killed... please let it be that she doesn’t have to learn the very real consequences of fighting hatred like I did. She’s too good to have to learn that painful truth. She shouldn’t have to. That evil witch in Orgrimmar... this is all her fault. What did you think that was good which could possibly result from reigniting the generations of rage and hatred, Sylvanas Windrunner...? Did she seriously think burning Teldrassil would cause us to cut and run...? This is going to end badly. I hope she’s safe... I hope the rest of the Circle is safe. Carter might be mad at me for using leave time to go search for her, but she’s the most important person to me in the world. “Pssst... I wouldn’t have something like that out if I were you, wild man.” “Hm...?” Kanas looked up, looking around for the source of the whisper, only to realize he was no longer alone; he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had lost track of time and surroundings; a dangerous thing to do in a land so foreign to him; across from him sat a man in a long, beaten leather trenchcoat of Kul Tiran design and a head crowned with a long ponytail and a trimmed beared. “What’s it you, sir...? I’m just a stranger in a strange land, passin’ on though... I ain’t allowed to reminisce...?” “Hm! why so offended...? I only came to talk.” The Kul Tiran man before him in the beaten coat. “You seemed like you had much on your mind, and I feeling generous. There’s no need to be so offended. And besides,” The man lowered his voice to a whisper, “you might not want others to know right away that you’re an outsider here, especially a member of the Alliance military, friend; it doesn’t matter if you are now or not. Kul Tiras is a land full of all sorts that might not take kindly to you.” “Okay... so what’s spurrin’ on this sudden act of charity...?” Kanas was suspicious, meeting the scruffy man’s eyes with a peering gaze as he lowered his own voice. “Who’re you, and what do you want? And is to if ya help me, that’s gonna depend on what you know.” “Oh, you’d be surprised; I keep an eye out on and for a great many outsiders that pass into our lands,” The man replied smoothly, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “Isn’t that right... Marshal Renard...?” At first, Kanas raised a brow, but then flipped the medallion over in his hands and realized the scruffy stranger had read his name and former title off the back while he was distracted. Raising his brows, Kanas secreted the medallion away back within his garb and leaned in forward even as Jed slept at his side. “Alright, wise guy... y’already know my name, so I gotta ask... who’re you?” “The name’s Flynn Fairwind,” The cocksure trenchcoat man replied. “And you seem to be looking for something or someone. I felt generous and you seemed awfully troubled as you mumbled something about a night elf... so, maybe I can help?”

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Arrival In Boralus, Part 1

August the 17th, Just before dawn: Two days. It had been two days of churning, roiling hell borne of boredom and bracing beneath the deck of the small steam vessel for Kanas and Jed, and neither master nor beast were enjoying the idea of waking to yet another grey dawn in which Jed would spend the rest of his day curled up in some nook below deck and Kanas would have to constantly brace against bulwarks or any other firm and reachable surface along the vessel’s form as the Great Sea rolled and toiled. For his part, Mr. Tarvus Screwhand was already awake and hard at work,the hardy gnomish merchant and vetted seadog already visible up in the steam ship’s wheelhouse. Kanas briefly caught a glimpse of the weathered gnome’s salty and scarred visage as he paused in his duties and lit his pipe with some type of lighter as he navigated the Seabee’s course as needed. The trip was only supposed to take one day (for the Seabee was very quick on the open water due to its advanced gnomish propulsion systems), but toward the evening hours of the night previous, the weather had grown uncooperative and the sea had grown restless. Eventually, the waves grew too mighty and roiling for the general safety of cargo and crew, and so the Seabee was forced to drop anchor behind a small, undiscovered isle, protected from the brunt of the storm’s rainy and wavy wrath as the maelstrom raged on into the night. That night, the lightning danced across the sky, and the thunder rolled like a cannon across the sea, making it difficult for all but the most salted and seasoned of the crew to sleep. Kanas was not new to this, himself; having slept shipboard before during the journey to Orgrimmar during the Pandaria conflict and even having to have slept in the darkness during a time where his own forces had clashed with that of General Nazgrim on Tol Barad. No, what made sleep difficult to come was the fact that he was being forced to stay put with Kul Tiras so close, and with it the love of his life... and yet so infuriatingly far away. Which is why, when he rose from his bunk that morning, Kanas was grateful to find stars and calm seas. So caught in his morning dream, Kanas didn’t notice that the skipper was now standing next to him until he felt a firm nudge on his leg. “Ahem. Mr. Renard, what are you doing blocking the door to the bunkhouse? I know you are our guest, but I’m tired and I’d like to rest.” “Ah, Mr. Screwhand, sir. Do beg your pardon,” Kanas shook himself from his morning fog, yawning himself. “Anything you’re gonna need for today?” “Just keep an eye on the horizon, my guest. There is talk of pirates and even the Horde in these waters of late, and I would much rather not have us boarded, slain and raised into the ranks of the Banshee Queen.” Kanas shuddered. “Frankly, neither would I like that, sir,” Kanas nodded. “Even so, you’ll be the first to know if somethin’s up. Get some rest; I’ll go keep your crew some company.” “Do as you like, my guest,” Mr. Screwhand nodded. “By calculations, we’re a little over two hours away from port in Boralus. We should be arriving just after sunrise.” And with that, Kanas set to his business.

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She’s Missing

(An Entry Taken From Kanas’ Personal Journal) August the 14th, 34 ADP of the King’s Calendar It’s been almost a week since I left Seastone (along with a good chunk of the circle at Carter’s direction), and already what was supposed to be a time of rest and time spent with my loved ones is proving to be anything but. I hope that Buck isn’t proving too much of a handful for the stablemaster. Light knows that bear has the appetite of a small army. The big guy doesn’t know his own strength, either. The first order of business for me with Jed in tow was to secure immediate passage back to Nighthaven via the impromptu portal network that has been set up to aid in the continuing evacuation and transit between Kaldorei holdings in Kalimdor for both refugee and military use. I was able to justify my reasons enough to the sentinels that manned the checkpoint: I was going to see the woman of my dreams, my nightingale. I frankly do not care if others may think it strange of me that the woman I love is of a race who will quite likely far outlive any sunrise I see; I would move heaven and earth to help her. I will not fail her. Not again. Not after the burning. Nevertheless, as I entered Stormwind, I was still in shock at how vast the refugee holdings have grown. Tens of thousands of Kaldorei have now taken up residence in the outskirts of the city, and ancients whose age I couldn’t begin to guess now patrol the woodland and hills surrounding the capital. It’s even worse than the Pandaria Conflict. Even worse than Theramore. I fear the scars of this Fourth War between the Alliance the Horde will have lasting consequences for decades after a final armistice and terms of surrender are met... if a final armistice and terms of surrender are met. With her actions in Darkshore and Lordaeron, I am concerned that the wicked witch of the Undercity may have finally done what not even the previous war-hungry holder of her seat ever managed to do: awaken the desire in the hearts of the people for a most terrible revenge. My memories of fighting the bloodthirsty drive of Hellscream haunt me of late. With her actions in Darkshore, I believe Sylvanas Windrunner will soon prove an even more worthy bearer of the dubious distinction of “most wicked Warchief ever”. Which, given that I both fought against Garrosh Hellscream’s madness and even laid eyes on him on two occasions, connotates a terrible toll I dare not consider. Still... imagine my shock and surprise when I entered the portal and sought out the woman I love... only to learn two things: - That, the Light be praised, she is alive, well, and finally out of bed. - That, for whatever confounded reason, she immediately donned her armor and took off for a land that hasn’t been known to Stormwind since before I was a boy: Kul Tiras. I will not be writing my full reaction, but I will say this: I love Falcarra with every fiber of my being, but my frustration at her impulsive decision was nearly very colorful, as I bit my tongue hard so as to not disturb the other injured. She barely survived the actions of the Horde against Teldrassil, though a sentinel former or present she may be. What on Azeroth is she thinking...? And so... having quickly secured a portal back to Stormwind, I sit upon a small steam vessel ran by a gnomish merchant named Screwhand (so named for his false, arcane-mechanical hand), heading for Boralus. I’m aware of some of the things I’ve heard coming out of there of late... I hope I don’t get too caught up in the Kul Tiran politics going on, especially where the Alliance is concerned. I need to find her. I have to to find her. Light let her be safe.