The Bear's Departure

The Bear's Depature is an account of the aftermath of the resignation of Thane Dwaldin Stormbeard from the leadership of the Dwarven Vanguard shortly after the Dragonmaw Subjugation.

The Bear of the Highlands grumbled, as he stalked the halls of Ironforge; dressed for war in a city that has seen no such thing within its walls since the civil war between the clans… Clans now united under the one, snow-capped roof.

But there was no solace to be found, in the peace under the mountain, for the one called Stormbeard. Whose troubled mind had dug up a heavy heart, and now had decisions to make; decisions that could make, or break, not just himself but so many more… And the knife’s edge had never looked sharper.

It had felt right, he remembered, when he’d lost Fraedya… The boiling rage; the unbearable, savage need to tear the very mountains from their roots, if it meant reaping a terrible vengeance upon the bastard Orcs who’d attacked Kirthaven whilst he and the Vanguard were deployed beyond the seas… It had felt right to follow their brutal trail and mocking clues, back across the waters and right to the very gates of Orgrimmar. He’d buried his wife with his own two hands; hands that had barely held his own sons, and then it had been easy to walk the bloody path of war… to give himself over to anger.

Anger, he found, had not however eased the pain… Nor had time, or the killing of Hellscream’s ‘loyal’ followers. They had only succeeded in burying the pain, and now, it seemed, events conspired to tear his wounds open all over again… Wounds that had been left to fester and now, he worried in some corner of his mind, might have left a black mark upon his heart.

Much of this he’d intended to keep to himself, even from his kin. But too long had passed, and all time had brought to his door was more war; both personal, and out in the fields and hills of Khaz Modan… and now he was facing the Dragonmaw once more; with the looming threat of a dagger in the dark, and his own sons in danger.

But now with the war over and Kirthaven once again under threat, the time to act was now. He could no longer lead the Vanguard with the burdens he carried constantly weighing on his decision making. Do what I could not, my friend. The words constantly rang in his head as he gave Thargrin Anvilsong the command. He will lead the Vanguard to a prosperous future. The Vanguard had sent their Thane off the way of old with Brawden'cyfail, honouring a departing brother with drink and song. For that, he thanked them, but it did not bring ease to his leave.

Dwaldin lightly scratched under his tattooed eye, sighing heavily through his nose as he arrived at the gryphon roost. The preparations had been made and Stormtalon awaited her masters command, lightly nudging the dwarfs' side with her beak. "M'Thane..." The grizzled dwarf grumbled, peering over his shoulder as a young woman carried his two sons in each arm. Dwaldin clenched his jaw as he slowly approached the woman, lightly taking his kin from her arms. The dwarf ignored the woman for a moment as he focused on his sons resting, Faldin Stormbeard with a golden head like his father and Yoldin Stormbeard, a fiery head like his mother.

The dwarf walked towards the gryphon, lightly placing each son in a cradle attached to the side of Stormtalon, before taking hold of the reigns. Dwaldin finally turned towards the young dwarf, lightly bowing his head towards her. "M'thanks fer wot ye've done wit' tha' safety ef me sons. Ancestors watch over ye." The woman bowed her head towards the Thane as the grizzled dwarf walked towards the gates of Ironforge, his feathery companion not far behind him. He stopped for a moment, gazing back towards the stone halls of his ancestors as the wind of Dun Morogh beckoned him to take flight. Dwaldin grumbled, lightly ruffling Stormtalons feathers before exiting the home beneath the mountain in search of solace.