#commanderbragh

Day 1: Yearn / Couple

Braghaman leaned back in his chair and glanced around the great room again. Madame Eva’s inn was as lively as it usually was. Adventurers of all stripes were coming and going, letting in the chill winter air. One gust shot through and hit the paladin like a knife. He shivered and then shifted closer to the hearth as he took another drink of his bourbon. Satisfied that the chill had been defeated, he started looking around again, only to find the owner of the inn standing at his shoulder.

“I trust all is well,” Madame Eva asked with a smile.

“As always,” Braghaman answered with his own smile and raising his mug.

Just then, another group of people stepped through the doors and walked up to the counter. Madame Eva nodded to the paladin before going to the group and getting them settled with a room for the evening. The group was a little loud for the room, joking about the number of skeletons that they had just defeated in the nearby cemetery. Their room acquired, they left to climb the stairs to the upper level. 

Braghaman chuckled quietly and shook his head before taking another drink. As he lowered his mug, he found that Madame Eva had returned and was watching him closely.

“Lively group there,” Bragh said, nodding towards the stairs. “Seemed happy with their endeavors this evening.”

“True,” Eva replied.

“To be young again,” Bragh added, raising his mug in a toast.

“Yearning for more adventures, commander? Or are your days of galavanting around behind you now?”

“Oh I expect that I have a couple of adventures left in me,” Braghaman said slowly. “But I guess I’ve reached the point where I’m a little more picky with which ones I want to go on.”

“You’ve earned that right, of course.”

“Besides,” Bragh began as he shifted in his seat again, “training the newest paladins that Stormwind has to offer has its adventurous moments. Anyways, I think I’ve grown comfortable enjoying a semi-retired life with Niv. Let the younger generation have the fun for now.”

“Of course, commander,” Madame Eva said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Of course.” She turned and walked around the room to check in on other guests, but still noticing how the paladin sat facing the hearth, his gaze lost among the dancing flames.

Dar: I met a troll named Sabbac, she’s an excellent cook, and an amazing dancer. I have to admit, I never imagined being around people like her, and now i’m quite regretful I haven't up until now. I hope to see her around soon, I think we’d get along.

There’s something about being around water that instantly lifts her mood. She grew up near enough to the sea and a few rivers that it was never difficult to find time to swim. The whole multi-sensory aspect of being around water is just Good all around.

Sunrise: Some asshole plays a trumpet and some other asshole makes sure everyone on base hears it by means both technological and magical. For the duration of that musical piece, every mind on base hates the same two people at the same time. It is a perfect unity.

Make the bed, tuck it in so tight the bedbugs can’t escape, sweep all the personal shit into the footlocker and close it. Brush teeth, shave till beard is as square and straight as the bedclothes. Think about how much better bedsheets always looked tangled up in Dwyn’s legs.

Six bells: First formation. Resist temptation to tell drill sergeant their hat looks stupid on a head so small. Wonder if they’re the guy that plays reveille every morning based on their lung capacity. Zone out a little because it’s piss-early in the morning, respond to name being called. Thank whatever gods are still alive sarge didn’t notice zoning out. Wonder if Dwyn is awake yet.

Six bells and 15 minutes: Morning PT. This part, at least, isn’t too bad, since it’s what he would be doing if he weren’t on a base anyway. Just preferably after sleeping in for a few more hours, and after eating breakfast. Miss curling up with Dwyn for more sleep.

Eight bells: Back to barracks to smarten up and get in uniform. Reflect that it’s a good thing the Alliance at least makes decent mail, wish they could make a decent rifle. Debate requisitioning a bow instead for the millionth time. Smirk thinking about Dwyn drooling while watching him do target practice.

Eight bells and 30 minutes: March to mess. Shovel down whatever they put on the tray. Stopping to taste it would be a death sentence and there’s no time to savor it anyway. Sorely miss Dwyn’s cooking, summoned or otherwise.

Eight bells and 45 minutes: Form up again. Listen this time because not knowing training assignments was a good way to end up the sarge’s personal assistant until they ran out of things that needed to be scrubbed with a toothbrush. Muse on designs for the countertops in the new bathroom at Dwyn’s house.

Rest of the day devoted to doing whatever work was assigned to him with as little verbal complaint possible while sorely wishing he could just go home.

(TW: murder mentioned)

Banagan walked up the path to his family home, hearing the gravel crunching under his boot with every step. But something felt wrong. He couldn’t tell what exactly, but there was something else in the air. It wasn’t just the normal darkness of Duskwood. Something else was pressing on him, daring him even. But the young paladin couldn’t explain it. 

As he closed on the front door of his home, the sense of dread increased. The door hung open, the wood splintered with half the door hanging askew on its hinges and the other half resting on the floor just inside the house. Banagan broke into a run, drawing his sword as he did.

“Dad?” Banagan called out as he stepped through the doorway. “Niv?”

“They can’t talk to you right now,” a voice answered. Banagan stopped just inside the door and watched as someone stepped out from the back hallway. “Actually, they won’t be talking to you later, either.”

“Jek,” the paladin snarled as he watched the warrior step into the light. “What have you done?”

“They should have just answered our questions,” Jek responded with a smirk. “They had to go and make things…. messy.”

“If you’ve hurt either of them,” Banny began as his grip tightened on his sword.

“Don’t worry, neither of them are hurting. Soon, you won’t be either.” Jek slowly drew his sword and pointed it at Banagan.

“I’ll kill you!”

— — — 

“Banagan! Wake up! Wake up!”

Banny opened his eyes. At first, he couldn’t recognize anything. There was a haze of red that slowly receded until he finally saw the female night elf in front of him. She had her hands on either side of his face, holding him still and staring into his eyes.

“Are you well?”

Banagan took a slow breath and then let it go with a shudder. His head, still held gently by the night elf, lowered slightly for a moment. Then he looked back at her.

“Gillieana,” he said, softly. “I’m sorry. Where..”

“We are still on the boat. You had fallen asleep.” Gillieana let go of Banny’s face and her hand sdropped to her knees. She leaned back slightly and Banny could see that she was kneeling in front of his chair. The paladin could feel the rocking of the ship from his chair and saw the elf shifting slightly from side to side. “You started roaring and resisted waking up.”

“I’m sorry. It was… was just a dream.”

“It seemed quite a fierce dream. Are you okay?”

“I saw my parents murdered.” The explanation came out as barely a whisper.

Gilleana’s look softened as she watched the paladin. “That must have been awful.” Banagan simply nodded. “Do you fear it was something more than a dream?”

“Like what, a warning?”

Gilleana shrugged. “Such things are not unheard of. Especially these days.”

Banny took another deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. “No. No, I don’t think so. My father and step-mother can take care of themselves. They’ve faced worse things and always came out relatively unscathed.”

“Of course,” Gilleana replied. The elf then rocked back onto her toes and carefully stood up. “Let’s go to the deck. Some fresh air and blue skies will help disperse these dark thoughts.”

“Yeah,” Banagan said, standing up from the chair. “That sounds good.”

Banagan stepped off the boat and stared up at the city before him. He knew that there were quicker ways to get to Stormwind, but he appreciated the peace and calm that the boat trip afforded. Besides, he thought to himself, this is a really impressive view to come home to.

The young paladin shifted the weight of the bags on his shoulder and began walking up the dock. Long before he stepped off the boards and onto solid land, he spied the family friend standing, watching him. Banagan lowered his head slightly to hide his grin as he continued walking forward. He stopped as he came face to face with the leather-clad man who’d quietly waited for him.

“Hello, Erik. Haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“No. Not long at all.”

“You always know when I’m showing up here,” Banny chuckled as he shifted his bags again.

“And you are always surprised when I do.”

“I’ll figure it out one. I’ll find out how you always know when I’m heading back.”

“I’ve no doubt, Master Banagan,” Erik said, nodding his head slightly.

Banagan rolled his eyes and then started towards the ramp that led to the city. “Everything going okay here? no problems, I hope.”

“Nothing more than the usual concerns.”

“Just bandits on the roads and skeletons in the forests, eh?”

“The usual,” Erik replied with another nod. “And you? Any injuries that you have forgotten to tell your parents about?”

“Stubbed my toe,” Banny answered with a smirk. “Hurt so much that I almost considered pulling out my medical pack.”

“Sounds severe.”

“It was. But no, nothing new there.”

“How long are you back in the area?”

“A few days, I think. Everything seems to have calmed down for the time being. The Meddlers said it was fine for me to come back for a bit and that they’d let me know if anything came up.”

“That’s good. I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you.”

“This is what it was like for you and dad, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“Running off to save the world and then taking a few days break only to repeat the process?”

“I believe so.”

“It all seems to blur together. Catching your breath before jumping into the fray again.”

“You’d prefer a different life?”

Banagan stopped and looked at his companion. It was a few moments before he responded.

“No.”

“Why not?” Erik asked, staring intently at the young paladin.

“Because I choose to do this. Just like you, and just like dad.”

“You are mostly certainly your father’s child,” Erik responded, the hint of a smile on his face.

Mr Norg gripped his greatsword/letter opener tightly and slowly lifted it in the air. He pointed the tip of his blade at the smokey dragon before him. The dragon let out a fierce roar, dipping its head lower to the ground and flailing its wings out.

“You will not harm the threads of fate that bind my charge,” Mr. Norg said, his voice low and intense. He raised his weapon above his head and charged at the dragon.

Smoke flowed around the beast as it surged forward and then ducked underneath the swinging blade. It scooped up a silvery thread that lay on the ground in its mouth and turned. Puffs of dark smoke came from its nostrils as it began galloping towards the doorway.

“No!” Mr. Norg bellowed as he tried to intercept the dragon. He swung his weapon again only for the beast to leap above the blade and continue its retreat!  “Stop!”

The thread frayed and snapped. The dragon snarled as it flew past the doorway and disappeared, a strand of the cord trailing behind it into the darkness.

“No,” Mr. Norg repeated. “I have failed. I failed in my oath to protect. No.” Mr. Norg knelt down, his forehead coming to rest on the ground.

— — — 

Morning came to the Eastvale Logging Camp. Birds began their songs to welcome the day as the nearby horses began to stir in their stalls. Cui-Fen left her bed room and started opening the curtains to the home, welcoming in the morning sunlight. The Pandaren stopped short. On the floor in front of the door was one of her daughter’s dolls, laying atop a letter opener, and beside it was what was left of a ball of yarn. The ball had been mostly unwound and trailed towards the front door.

“Tai, honey. Come get Mr. Norg, dear. I almost stepped on him. And do you know why my knitting yarn is out here?”

@daily-writing-challenge

Banagan sat at the upper levels of Shattrath and looked off into the horizon. In the distance he could just make out parts of the planet that were breaking away and floating midair. The warlock watched at the hunks of earth slowly bobbed up and down in the sky. For a fleeting moment, he considered how much longer this version of Draenor would last.

“Why are you hiding?”

Pulled from his pondering, the warlock looked to his side and saw his companion Voltuk staring at him.

“What?” Banagan’s voice came through the mask slightly muffled.

“Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not,” he answered, looking back to the horizon. “We’re sitting out in the open, aren’t we?”

“Not your face.”

Slowly, the warlock turned his gaze back to the imp.

“Why do you hide your face?”

“Seems like the appropriate thing to do.”

“He knows who you are. They all do.”

“Who?” Banagan asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You know.” The imp rested his hands on his hips and stared at the warlock.

“How would you know?”

“Heard them.”

“You heard them? When?” Banagan’s attention was fully targeted at the imp.

“In Stormwind. He was talking to the bald one. They know.”

“Maybe I’m not hiding from them,” Banagan turned his mask back towards the floating rocks.

“Then who?” Voltuk asked, plopping down on the ground and looking around for something more entertaining.

“I’m hiding from myself, I guess.” 

“Kind of bad at that, then. Cause here you are.”

“Yeah. Here I am.” Banagan’s voice trailed off.

“Fine,” the imp said, standing up again. “I’m going down there.” Voltuk turned and started walking towards the elevator.

“No explosions,” Banagan called after him.

“No promises.”