The fellow named Jon Chess took a mage portal in Dalaran to the Wyrmrest Temple in Northrend. The Wymrest Temple was an ancient structure built by the Titans at the dawning of time, when the five Dragonflights were created, and has remained a meeting place for them ever since. From there, Jon hired a griffon to go to Valiance Keep.
Valiance Keep was the major point of entry from the Alliance to Northrend, and the logical place Chess to begin tracking his quarry. Valliance Keep was the headquarters for the main armies of the Alliance in Northrend during the campaign against the Lich King. While the main conflict with the Lich King had subsided, there was still plenty of work to be done to prevent the Lich King and his minions from spreading beyond Northrend and into the rest of the world.
After the destruction of Theramore, Jon had enlisted into the Army of the Alliance, serving as a reconnaissance scout. He had realized years later that he had done so to punish himself - perhaps fatally so - for having (through no virtue other than blind luck) lived when everyone he had allowed himself to care about had perished in the detonation of the Mana Bomb.
When he had mustered out in Hearthglen, he had never wanted to see Northrend ever again, but as usual, life did not give a shaved rat's behind about Jon's feelings.
Jon pondered his course of action for a moment. When people thought about what being a private investigator was like, they often thought of dramatic heroics written about in the cheap fictional accounts, but they were highly inaccurate. Most of Jon's work was remarkably dull and pedestrian, and much of it was the result of the process of canvassing likely locations - engaging and questioning people.
Fortunately, for travelers entering or leaving Northrend, the only inn here was the Valiant Rest, run by a middle-aged human named James Deacon. Jon remembered the fellow from his time in Northrend; he had stayed here himself before he had enlisted. Jon walked around the corner - the inn was right next to the griffon master's roosts - and sought Deacon out, finding him behind the bar, as usual.
"Got any better ale than that crap you served the enlisted guys, James?" said Jon, leaning against the bar. "My tastes have gone more high-brow than that..." Jon smiled to show there was no intended sting behind his teasing.
"Sergeant Chess... Light save me, I thought you were long dead, frozen out in Icecrown with the <Argent Exodus>" James replied with a professional smile.
Jon was amazed that James had apparently remembered him and his unit after all that time, and said so. "Well, we lost a lot of us is storming Icecrown, that's true - but I am surprised you remember us."
"Of course I remember you - the <Argent Exodus> never did pay the damages from their last unit party before Icecrown!" said James.
"No? Well, how much was it?" asked Jon. "I should have enough to cover it now..."
"Nah, forget about it - I billed the Alliance, and they paid me off a while back when the unit was disbanded; that's why I thought you guys had all died." The <Argent Exodus> had indeed dissolved under the heavy casualties that the unit had taken, including the apparent death of their leader, a Death Knight named Craft Ramsey. Jon had himself been heavily injured, and had been sent to Heathglen to recover afterward. "What can I get for you?"
"Hearthglen Ambrosia" Jon replied, asking for his favorite alcoholic drink - a mixture of spices, black tea, and rum. "and maybe some information?" Jon said, placing a stack of five gold coins on the bar. "I'm looking for an Afflicted Gilnean named Macee Welch, dark hair, violet eyes, mid-twenties maybe? She was headed out to the Grizzly Hills?" Jon showed him the miniature portrait of Macee Jon had been given by the client."
"Huh..." said James Deacon, his blading head shining in the lamplight. "Maybe... but I get so many people coming through. Was she army?"
"Nah, civilian," said Jon.
"Well, if she took the griffon, then she probably ended up at the Aberpine Lodge," Deacon informed.
"Fair enough," Jon said, taking his bottle. "Much obliged."
Jon took the next griffon to the Amberpine Lodge.
Valiance Keep was the major point of entry from the Alliance to Northrend, and the logical place Chess to begin tracking his quarry. Valliance Keep was the headquarters for the main armies of the Alliance in Northrend during the campaign against the Lich King. While the main conflict with the Lich King had subsided, there was still plenty of work to be done to prevent the Lich King and his minions from spreading beyond Northrend and into the rest of the world.
After the destruction of Theramore, Jon had enlisted into the Army of the Alliance, serving as a reconnaissance scout. He had realized years later that he had done so to punish himself - perhaps fatally so - for having (through no virtue other than blind luck) lived when everyone he had allowed himself to care about had perished in the detonation of the Mana Bomb.
When he had mustered out in Hearthglen, he had never wanted to see Northrend ever again, but as usual, life did not give a shaved rat's behind about Jon's feelings.
Jon pondered his course of action for a moment. When people thought about what being a private investigator was like, they often thought of dramatic heroics written about in the cheap fictional accounts, but they were highly inaccurate. Most of Jon's work was remarkably dull and pedestrian, and much of it was the result of the process of canvassing likely locations - engaging and questioning people.
Fortunately, for travelers entering or leaving Northrend, the only inn here was the Valiant Rest, run by a middle-aged human named James Deacon. Jon remembered the fellow from his time in Northrend; he had stayed here himself before he had enlisted. Jon walked around the corner - the inn was right next to the griffon master's roosts - and sought Deacon out, finding him behind the bar, as usual.
"Got any better ale than that crap you served the enlisted guys, James?" said Jon, leaning against the bar. "My tastes have gone more high-brow than that..." Jon smiled to show there was no intended sting behind his teasing.
"Sergeant Chess... Light save me, I thought you were long dead, frozen out in Icecrown with the <Argent Exodus>" James replied with a professional smile.
Jon was amazed that James had apparently remembered him and his unit after all that time, and said so. "Well, we lost a lot of us is storming Icecrown, that's true - but I am surprised you remember us."
"Of course I remember you - the <Argent Exodus> never did pay the damages from their last unit party before Icecrown!" said James.
"No? Well, how much was it?" asked Jon. "I should have enough to cover it now..."
"Nah, forget about it - I billed the Alliance, and they paid me off a while back when the unit was disbanded; that's why I thought you guys had all died." The <Argent Exodus> had indeed dissolved under the heavy casualties that the unit had taken, including the apparent death of their leader, a Death Knight named Craft Ramsey. Jon had himself been heavily injured, and had been sent to Heathglen to recover afterward. "What can I get for you?"
"Hearthglen Ambrosia" Jon replied, asking for his favorite alcoholic drink - a mixture of spices, black tea, and rum. "and maybe some information?" Jon said, placing a stack of five gold coins on the bar. "I'm looking for an Afflicted Gilnean named Macee Welch, dark hair, violet eyes, mid-twenties maybe? She was headed out to the Grizzly Hills?" Jon showed him the miniature portrait of Macee Jon had been given by the client."
"Huh..." said James Deacon, his blading head shining in the lamplight. "Maybe... but I get so many people coming through. Was she army?"
"Nah, civilian," said Jon.
"Well, if she took the griffon, then she probably ended up at the Aberpine Lodge," Deacon informed.
"Fair enough," Jon said, taking his bottle. "Much obliged."
Jon took the next griffon to the Amberpine Lodge.
No comments:
Post a Comment