May 8th 2010 6:46PM It's cold here in Dun Morogh. I'm not used to being out in the cold so often, having grown up in Ironforge and not really leaving all that much. With every involuntary shiver I think ever more that I am a fool for seeking training as a warrior.
But I'm determined. DETERMINED. I will help to retake Gnomeregan and I won't be able to do that by sitting in the Boltfizzle hovel in warm, secluded, safe old Ironforge, no siree.
So this dwarf here at Coldridge Valley, Sten, he's the one they point me to. Not the warrior trainer or the leader of the village here, but what I can only assume is some kind of scam artist.
He points out that I look cold. Of course I do.
Would I like some gloves? Of course I would.
Oh, but to get them, you need me to get you your dinner? And from wolves, no less?
But with that first swing of my sword, I felt my muscles loosening up and this wonderful, red hot feeling took over my body. It fueled me, made me feel so strong. I'd heard the dwarven soldiers talking about this, calling it a "battle rage", talking about how it powered them in combat.
But "rage" isn't how I would describe it. This feeling...it's euphoria! With every swing I feel elated. Take THAT, I think as my blade meets wolf flesh, and THAT, and THAT!
I could get used to this warrior thing, I think. Teakee Boltfizzle, Warrior of Gnomeregan.
Yeah, I like the sound of that.