Bruuin
04-02-2008, 08:33 PM
This is pointless.
Aye, they be tellin' me I should be keepin' a written log. I usually leave da writin' up to da' long ears. But, it does help pass da' time.
Not many o' us Gryphon Rider's in da' skies nowadays. The days o' feeling da' wind blowing through me beard, da weight o' me Stormhammer in me grasp, da' clashing o' metal to beasty all gone. Now, da' brother dwarves in da' mountains o' Dun Morogh, along with their big eared counterparts and squishy friends, constantly send their task force to handle what me and me brothers did each and e'eryday here at Aerie Peak.
Me still not be seeing a point in this. As if they think da' Wildhammer's cannae hold their own! Bah!
Also, writing is for sissies!
Constantly they send their eldest up here to try and talk the most of us into coming to Ironforge with them to train for the battles against the Horde. Few of us go. Most of us stay to protect the Peaks. I wait for the day to be called back to the skies to take care of the dragons again. The smite my enemies with that broad end of an angry hammer.
Aye, I drown me antsy feelings in a nice flagon of mead. Aye, I spend me day's patrolling da' area for those gangly tusked bastards. I almost hope an attack would come so I can pull me Stormhammer back out and get rid o' da' dust that has collected.
And to make matters worse, some o' da' long ears have gone to the green skins side! Bloody traitors! Every last one of them. Siding with those undead apparitions o' doom. Not natrual! Not right! I dunnae see why we jus' don' climb back on our gryphons and fly straight into their city and show them the might of the Wildhammer clan!
I grow restless. I need to find me an outlet. And now.
And where did these blue-skinned, squid-faced freaks come from?! Almost rank right up there with the bloody Forsaken. Ambassador Rualeth or whatever stands around waiting for an audience with Falstad! Bah! Look at their eyes! Cannae trust'em on bit! Tails an' hooves an' horns n' tentacles. Demons from beyond the veil, I tell ya!
Blasted, bloody, soft hearted 'umans, taking in e'ery kind, regardless o' threat. Makes me sick to me stomach.
I think I am goin' ta' check on Ole' Lucky. At leas' he still gets ta fly freely.
---
I dunnae know what 'as gotten into the minds o' those Ironforge brothers, sending their own out here to scalp us from out lands. One by da' name o' Valgar Highforge rode up on an armored horse today. Good dwarf, loves a good flagon of burbon.
Anyway, he pulled me ta da' side, talked ta me about some Light. A load of gryphon-shyte if'n ya ask me. Valgar talked o' blessings and protecting those within the Forge. Bullocks. Our Ironforge brethren just close their gates if'n things get too much for them. Hide within their mountain. Not us Wildhammers! Fight until the end! Ne'er hide!
Aye, I be missin' da' days back at Grim Batol. Those were da' days.
Bah! Enough reminiscing. This Valgar spoke only o' one thing that me heart wanted. Battles with me hammer. This Light or what nonsense strengthening me hammer. Da' hairs on me chin stood on end.
I told him da' stories of being a gryphon rider, flying through the skies with me Stormhammer. Days o' glory! Days ta always remember! And he told me o' the land beyond the Portal. Broken lands. Lands where warriors can take ta da' sky on the back of gryphon's freely.
I dunnae know if it was me urge to fly again or the amount of burbon I had consumed, but, me think I agreed to go back with him. At some point.
Paladins they be callin' them. Warriors o' da' Light. Protectors.
I jus' want me hammer back. I want me a reason ta fight.
Aye, they be tellin' me I should be keepin' a written log. I usually leave da writin' up to da' long ears. But, it does help pass da' time.
Not many o' us Gryphon Rider's in da' skies nowadays. The days o' feeling da' wind blowing through me beard, da weight o' me Stormhammer in me grasp, da' clashing o' metal to beasty all gone. Now, da' brother dwarves in da' mountains o' Dun Morogh, along with their big eared counterparts and squishy friends, constantly send their task force to handle what me and me brothers did each and e'eryday here at Aerie Peak.
Me still not be seeing a point in this. As if they think da' Wildhammer's cannae hold their own! Bah!
Also, writing is for sissies!
Constantly they send their eldest up here to try and talk the most of us into coming to Ironforge with them to train for the battles against the Horde. Few of us go. Most of us stay to protect the Peaks. I wait for the day to be called back to the skies to take care of the dragons again. The smite my enemies with that broad end of an angry hammer.
Aye, I drown me antsy feelings in a nice flagon of mead. Aye, I spend me day's patrolling da' area for those gangly tusked bastards. I almost hope an attack would come so I can pull me Stormhammer back out and get rid o' da' dust that has collected.
And to make matters worse, some o' da' long ears have gone to the green skins side! Bloody traitors! Every last one of them. Siding with those undead apparitions o' doom. Not natrual! Not right! I dunnae see why we jus' don' climb back on our gryphons and fly straight into their city and show them the might of the Wildhammer clan!
I grow restless. I need to find me an outlet. And now.
And where did these blue-skinned, squid-faced freaks come from?! Almost rank right up there with the bloody Forsaken. Ambassador Rualeth or whatever stands around waiting for an audience with Falstad! Bah! Look at their eyes! Cannae trust'em on bit! Tails an' hooves an' horns n' tentacles. Demons from beyond the veil, I tell ya!
Blasted, bloody, soft hearted 'umans, taking in e'ery kind, regardless o' threat. Makes me sick to me stomach.
I think I am goin' ta' check on Ole' Lucky. At leas' he still gets ta fly freely.
---
I dunnae know what 'as gotten into the minds o' those Ironforge brothers, sending their own out here to scalp us from out lands. One by da' name o' Valgar Highforge rode up on an armored horse today. Good dwarf, loves a good flagon of burbon.
Anyway, he pulled me ta da' side, talked ta me about some Light. A load of gryphon-shyte if'n ya ask me. Valgar talked o' blessings and protecting those within the Forge. Bullocks. Our Ironforge brethren just close their gates if'n things get too much for them. Hide within their mountain. Not us Wildhammers! Fight until the end! Ne'er hide!
Aye, I be missin' da' days back at Grim Batol. Those were da' days.
Bah! Enough reminiscing. This Valgar spoke only o' one thing that me heart wanted. Battles with me hammer. This Light or what nonsense strengthening me hammer. Da' hairs on me chin stood on end.
I told him da' stories of being a gryphon rider, flying through the skies with me Stormhammer. Days o' glory! Days ta always remember! And he told me o' the land beyond the Portal. Broken lands. Lands where warriors can take ta da' sky on the back of gryphon's freely.
I dunnae know if it was me urge to fly again or the amount of burbon I had consumed, but, me think I agreed to go back with him. At some point.
Paladins they be callin' them. Warriors o' da' Light. Protectors.
I jus' want me hammer back. I want me a reason ta fight.