Astoreth, Aurorai, Balor, Burning Tusk Tribe, Dragonwrath, Drekiros, Fenladril, Firelands, image overload, Kelist, Liealia, Lynndsay, Nocturne, OOC, Preux, raiding, Rhakniz, Shayzani, Stavier, Taraz, Tiavin, Tywren, Zul'rohk
I hate working with dragons. They’re arrogant, abrasive, dismissive — even the “nice” ones are so ignorant and uncaring of mortal concerns so as to be completely insufferable. Of course, when a dragon asks one to do something, it’s not as if one can reasonably say no.
So typically I try to get in and out as quickly as possible. I do the job, and then I get paid — or forgotten, which, when considering a dragon, is just as well.
But this was different.
This became… personal.
When did this become personal?
It wasn’t when she fell. I barely knew her, to be honest. And she died for one she loved. We should all be fortunate to have such a death.
But when it came to her brother, the one she died for… the one she left behind….
He and I are different in more ways than we can count. But that pain… being the one left behind. I know it.
That made it personal.
For weeks I returned again and again to the Firelands.
I enlisted the help of every member of Nocturne, and the assistance of many others as well.
I faced down a Firelord.
And in the end, I was victorious.
I did the job, and for
once only the second time in my life without expectation of payment or reward.
But having received one, I shall carry it with honor.
Maybe dragons aren’t quite so bad.