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Irethorn had joined Draconious and Maetres in the inn.
The mood was sombre as they all waited patiently for Fel’s return.
Whatever force kept most gryphons grounded in their stables also prevented Aniendha and Adrinas from assuming a flight form in Draenor. He had left on a rocket he built to sample the atmosphere. Irethorn found the idea of strapping a bomb to her back and launching upwards distressing, but the Gnome didn’t seem to mind it.
Irethorn assumed the druids were out with Molani scouting through Talador again. While she had no love of demons, they seemed to have an additional passion in purging the Legion taint from the area.
This wasn’t her Draenor though. She didn’t really feel at home when she petitioned a mage like Draconious to send her to their timeline’s Shattrath either. She studied the slight undead pallor of the hands around her mug… the touch of the Lich King still echoed, even if Arthas had been slain.
It echoed every time she raised one of her rune weapons and struck down a foe.
Fel’s return broke Irethorn from her thoughts.
“Only the Gryphon Masters’ air tunnels seem protected,” he huffed as he sat down, dropping a clatter of what Irethorn presumed was leftover rocket.
She smirked as the innkeeper rushed over and began sweeping it outside, where Blook obediently helped move the detritus back to Fel’s engineering shop. She remembered the innkeeper used to throw a fit before he understood Fel’s attitude wasn’t careless, simply forgetful: now that the toy was broken it was time to focus on building the next toy, not clean up after the last.
He continues after accepting a mug that seemed much too large for his delicate hands from the barmaid with a perfunctory thank you. “What I did see was the potential to mount an attack on Tanaan…”
Even Irethorn sat up straighter at this news. She hadn’t seen the inside of the infamous Tanaan Jungle since their heroic entry into Draenor.
“…All we need is a shipyard.”
Draconious groaned and finished his mug, hiccuping. Maetres gently straightened him in his chair.
Fel held both of his arms up in surrender, pleading for them to listen. “There’s potential! There’s enough space at the coast, and all we’d need then is a shipmaster who could help us design and build them.”
Irethorn smiled at this, she might know just who they could fetch. Her hands itched to hold her weapons again, and what better purpose than to rescue someone?
“I may know where we can find somebody to help…” she began.
((See you in 6.2!))