The scene in the common room of the inn in Theramore was rife with fear and tension.
In the center of the room was a blood elf... or was he? Whatever he was, he held the bartender, a pleasant enough lady named Lillian, by the throat, while an adamantium dagger was held at her throat. Around him were the inn staff and patrons, all with myriad weapons drawn, but nobody willing to take action that might end in Lillian's death - she was well-liked, after all.
Griffonclaw alone had not brought weapon to hand, and he spoke gently to the fellow. "Let's just all be calm, my good man... nobody wants to hurt you.." he began, before he was interrupted.
"Nobody here can hurt me, fool! I am Hrotempasha, the scion of Malfurion and Neptulon the Tidehunter! Hidden away in a the depths of Castle Black in an uncharted region of the Stormshadow mountains, I have freed myself at last and come forth to claim my birthright! Those who dare stand against me will become Accured, and be surrounded in wreaths of Fel fire! If they somehow manage to strike me down, I shall rise up again in my True Form and immolate the city!"
"How DARE they demand money from me for beer!? They should pay ME for the favor of my patronage!" ranted the stranger.
Griffonclaw looked at the fellow's gear; a matched set of Fel Iron chainmail, and a balanced pair of adamantine dagger and rapier. Expensive, and hideously difficult to make.
Griffonclaw knew first-hand. Both the armor and the weapon set the fellow bore he had himself made in the forges of the Allarion Stronghold, scant weeks ago.
"Then... you are HE?" exclaimed Griffonclaw.
The other patrons looked at him like he was a complete idiot. With one exception - the complete idiot looked at him with a beaming expression.
"You recognize me?" he said, flattered.
"Indeed I do, My Lord!" Griffonclaw fell to his knees in supplication. "Please, allow me the boon of offering you my purse, and my sword!" Griffonclaw detached his purse and held it forth, looking down.
"I accept your offer of service, Paladin! You shall be the first, and lead my armies!" He reached over to take Griffonclaw's purse, but as his hand touched it, Griffonclaw's hand dropped it and reverse-gripped his wrist. Griffonclaw jerked hard, upsetting his one-handed hold on Lillian, who scampered free, unharmed.
The blood elf inhaled, and his face was red enough to indicate that whatever would be forthcoming would be... rude. However, before he could issue forth one vile utterance, Griffonclaw's other hand shot forward, his plate gauntlet curled into a fist. There was a sickening crunch as plate met delicate flesh, and won. Sin'dorei staggered back several paces, and fell over, thoroughly and redundantly senseless.
Theremore guardsmen took him away.
The innkeeper bought a round for the house, and asked Griffonclaw why he had taken the chance.
"Chance?" Griffonclaw scoffed. "What chance? Every day I hear claims - this person is secretly under a wargen curse, that person is the son of a Titan and a shepherdess, and so on, and so forth. "
He paused to drink. "If he was telling the truth, we were likely all dead anyways... but I figured him for someone whose mind was crushed under the weight of their self-delusion. I recognized the armor and weapons - I made them, after all - and figured that he was a rich lunatic, and that something born of Malfurion - Light curl his scrotum forever - would have some better recourse than buying a suit off the rack."
"Its sad... I travel often, and have witnessed many things, done by people as ordinary as you and I... that are full of generosity, of honor, as anything sung in the sagas and stories... as if staying alive in these troubled times isn't heroic enough. "
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