Wildfire Riders

Your task: 2,048 characters to discuss your character in the Tourney. Everyone starts representing their home city *officially.* How did that conversation go? Why is your character really in the Tourney?

Home city as in what's available in-game, or home city?

"Ah, good dwarf!" The young human, wearing the colors of the Argent Crusade, moved to stand beside Beltar Forgebreaker as he gazed up at the half-constructed Argent Tournament arena. "Have you come to hone your skills in honorable combat against your fellows?"

Slowly, the old dwarf turned and looked up at the teenager, who recoiled at the glare.

"Lemme tell y'somethin', boy," Beltar spat. "Ain't n'such damned thing 's 'honorable' combat. Y'know what 'honorable' combat is t'me? One I come home after, 'at's what."

Before the youth could respond, Beltar continued. "Wanna talk combat, boy? I spent a hunnert fuckin' years--more now, I reckon--hidin' behind trees an' shit, shootin' people in th'back so's they never seen death comin' at 'em. I kilt more men's than in this whole Lightdamned camp, and a few of 'em mighta even deserved it. I seen shit you ain't but heard stories 'bout, an' I kilt it too." His voice was rising, and he was slowly walking forward, pushing the stammering squire backward.

"An' after all'at, a hunnert years'a handlin' a boomstick w'th'best of 'em, an' bein' as perfessional a gunner as y'ever seen in th'East, y'think yer gonna get my sorry old ass crawlin' up onna horse an' runnin' 'round a ring fuckin' joustin'?? Yeah, 'cause ol' Arthas, he's gonna ride a bony pony straight outta his Citadel an' challenge y'to a nice joust anna cuppa tea afterwards, aye? This here's a damned war, y'ninny!" He reached up and poked the unfortunate teen in the chest; unfortunate, because at that moment, the youth bumped up against one of the horses' water troughs, lost his balance, and landed in the freezing water with a loud splash. Beltar paused not a moment.

"Tell ya what, lad. Y'play yer games like yer on some field outside'a Stormwind, c'mpetin' t'see who's gonna impress th'noble girls an' get 'em some knight's daughter in th'hayloft, aright? Me, I'll be out there savin' yer sorry ass. Let th' perfessionals do th' fightin', boy, while y'stick t'yer little faire here. Mebbe when I'm done, I'll come back t'ya an' watch th' entertainment."

Beltar spun on his heel and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, "An' 'sides, 'em knight's daughters weren't all'at great nohow!"

"The Kaldorei need a representative, Riahana Shadowmoon. You would represent Darnassus in the Argent Tournament," the male Night Elf spoke in his calming sing-song tone.

Holding up a crumpled piece of paper in her closed fist, Ria growled, "Why? Because my Mother bids I do so? So that I might redeem myself and the shame she seems to think I bring our family?" Shaking her head, the young elf turned her back on the messenger, "How far must I go to escape the grip which my Mother wants to place on me? My dream, my path is not for her to determine. My life is my own, and I get what I need by what ever means it takes."

"Your mother just wishes you safe, child. The feud that saw you leave Teldrassil is well in the past as far as she is concerned. She truly does wish you well, Riahana. She put your name forward as a proud mother might," the messenger replied. "She has heard of your great exploits, and holds her head high when she speaks of you."

Ria turned to face the man once again, arching a brow and looking perplexed. She scoffed, "Priestess Arheya would not be proud to have a rogue as a daughter...a rogue mercenary, at that. You must have me confused with some other Kaldorei, An'leyon."

The man offered a warm smile, "I am not mistaken. As I say, she wishes to mend fences with you, child. It is why she put your name forward. She even defended you when one of her peers argued mercenaries were not good enough to represent Darnassus. I was there, girl. I witnessed it, the pride and fierce loyalty with which Arheya spoke to defend you?"

The young Night Elf saw the honesty in the man's eyes, but she was far from convinced. She looked away, shaking her head as she answered, "I am a mercenary. I cannot just up and head north for some tournament my mother wishes me to enter. I fight for gold, not glory."

An'leyon smirked knowlingly, "Did I not say the prize is gold and goods?"

Ria whipped her head back to An'leyon, "Gold? No. You failed to mention that."

The smirk grew, "Are you in, then?"

It was Ria's turn to smirk. "Yes."

(( Going to have to pass on this one. Alos hasn't even looked in the direction of the tourney yet, and I am too exhausted after the last two weeks to form coherent thoughts, much less put them down on (figurative) paper! Next time, Gadget, next time! ))