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Daily Archives: October 8th, 2018

The atmosphere of Dustwallow Marsh was almost unbearably thick and humid.  It was late afternoon and the sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie setting of gloom throughout the marsh.  The marsh like any other place in Azeroth could be extremely dangerous due to the highly aggressive and territorial disposition of the creatures in this area.  The area was inhabited by less intelligent creatures like crocs, spiders, and raptors, as well as other far more intelligent beings such as Dragonkin and Humans.

Baaradon’s kodo trotted across the marsh at a slow and steady pace and brought his kodo to halt as he entered Brakenwall Village.  Though it had been a long time, Baaradon was no stranger to Brakenwall.  His unexpected appearance had garnered no more than a passing glance from its inhabitants.  After securing his mount, he made way to the local regent dealer.


Balai Lok’Wein was rummaging through a pile of sacks when Baaradon approached her.  In fact, it wasn’t until he was standing over her that she noticed him at all.  She was very surprised to see him but to look at her no one could tell.  Balai extended a hand for Baaradon to help her to her feet.  At full height, Balai only came up to Baaradon’s chest.  She swept her dark green hair back and then brushed dust off her dress and apron. 

“Baaradon of da Mute Assasins, Wat brings you bock ir mon?”

“I am in need of information and I figured a woman of your talents could help me in this regard.” Baaradon replied.

“Ah, might ave wat you need.  Wat you lookin for?”  The troll vendor inquired with a careful gaze.  Baaradon reached into a pouch and pulled out the torn patch.  Balai recognized it immediately and did a quick look around to see if anyone else had seen it. 

“You mus be bringing the Assasins if you wun trouble wit dem.”  She cautioned.

“No it’s just me.  What do you know of the Blade?”

“Best be keeping your voice down. You, gon talk bout dem.  Dey pass through ir a few times.  Must ave sum sort of base round here. Dey be meetin wit Krog he may know more.”


     Baaradon looked around the camp until he spotted the Orc that Balai had told him about.  Krog was sitting by a post near the camps single inn, which was little more than a cave, gnawing on some cured ham. 

Krog hadn’t noticed the hunter walking towards him.  Hunters always had the unique ability to go unnoticed when on the prowl.  It wasn’t stealth ability like a rogue, more like a state of being completely unremarkable.  Unless someone was deliberately drawn to look, they would simply not draw any attention of any kind.  Baaradon often joked that Hunters were better than rogues for they could be invisible without actually being invisible.     

Unfortunately for Krog, he was not looking at the Tauren.  Instead, he was face deep in his slab of meat.  It wasn’t until a hoof pounded the ground next to him that he realized he was in trouble.  The force of the war stomp knocked him over and before he could recover, Baaradon had leaned over and grabbed him by the collar.

“Tell me what you know of the Scarlet Blade” Baaradon spat as his grip tightened.  The Orc began trembling and barley managed a reply.

“If, I do they’ll kill me.”  Baaradon smiled but this smile was one that would scare death herself.

“And you would fare better than you would if you don’t talk.  Now out with it!”

The altercation with Baaradon and Krog drew the attention of the villagers including Overlord Morokk.  Morokk like most ogre was an enormous mass of muscle.  He was covered in armor and sported a large spiked gauntlet.  He watched the two men disapprovingly.

        Baaradon scarcely had time to dodge the blow from Morokk.  Krog however, was not so lucky, as Morokk’s fist collided with his face and propelled him backwards about 2 yards.  His unconscious body went limp in a pile of raptor dung.  Morokk hadn’t expected the Tauren to be aware of the imminent assault much less be able to avoid it altogether and so was caught off guard for a brief second.     

Baaradon was quick to take advantage of Morokk’s confusion. 

“This isn’t a good time Morokk.  Walk away.”  Baaradon growled as he thrust out his leg, planting his hoof firmly in Morokk’s midsection.  Morokk stumbled back his armor absorbing most of the blow.  Baaradon was a formidable fighter to be sure, but he knew that this was not where his strength lay and that Morokk could probably take him in straight melee.

“Ha ha, Tis always good time for fight, Tauren.”  Morokk flexed and his armor tightened as his anger grew. 


Baaradon made his move.  He unslung his Silver-plated Blunderbuss and fired a concussive shot dazing Morokk.  There was a loud roar like that of a wild tiger or a cheetah and suddenly with blazing speed he closed the distance between the two of them.  Stopping only briefly to plant a trap at Morokk’s feet, he rolled to his left and was back on his feet.  As the daze effect began to lift from Morokk, he stumbled forward triggering the trap.

Baaradon gave a sharp whistle and in response his faithful Kodo thundered to his side.  The tauren casually stepped closer to Morokk.

“As I told you I have no time for this.  The orc has given me what I need, so I will now leave you to cool your head.”   Mounting his kodo, he rode out of town leaving the ogre trapped in a block of ice.