A Night in Thundermar

A Night in Thundermar
The trotting of hooves against the solid cobbles, that wound in paths and roads upon the ground, could be
heard echoing through the air, along with the sound of the wooden wheels of the carts that the horses were
pulling. The twilight sky above taunted the group that followed the roads, but thankfully they wouldn’t be
left out in the dark for long - as they were finally at their destination. Thundermar. Whilst the group
continued further into the rather small, but quaint, little village, one horse stood still. The horse stood out
from the rest of the horses in the group, mainly because of its huge size whilst it’s coat was a beautiful,
shiny - well groomed - jet black colour, its mane and tail matching the beautiful noir colour. A huff came
out from between its lips, before a gloved hand reached down towards the mane of the horse, stroking it
“Shh, boy. We’re here, now.” a voice spoke in a tone which was almost soft enough to be a whisper.
Almost. Taking hold of the straps attached to the horses bridle, the man who the voice had belonged to,
maneuvered the horse further into the quaint little village towards the group he had arrived with. Whilst
everyone else had already made their way into the tavern part of Thundermar, not wasting any time to
have a good pint of mead to warm their bellies, the mysterious stranger dressed in all black, whilst his
piercing blue eyes could cut glass, had decided to stay with his horse for a little while longer. As he slid
off of the black beauty, his boots hitting the hardened floor that was scattered with hay - clearly a spot
favoured for the horses to stay - a loud dwarvish voice bellowed in front of him
“Alright sunny Jim?” Spoke a bald dwarf, the only hair on his head being his ginger beard that reached
his beer belly “Ye’ not joinin’ ye’ brothers an’ sisters, eh?”
“I have to tend to my horse first, then I shall join, if I am not too tired.” the man gave the dwarf a quick,
clearly uncomfortable smile, before turning back to his horse
“What’s ye name lad?” the man rolled his eyes as he realised the Dwarf wasn’t going away any time
soon, before turning towards him
“Who wants to know?”
“Wha’? Obviously me ya’ silly goose. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked!” the dwarf began to let out a
bellowing laughter, slapping his knee, clearly finding himself funnier than he actually was.
“Sylus.” the man finally answered “Now, not to be rude but could you please leave me to tend to my
horse?” The dwarf stood there for a moment, contemplating the question Sylus had asked, before giving a
firm nod and plodding away towards the tavern. Sylus sighed, more a sigh of relief than anything else,
that he was finally alone with his horse. Sometimes social interactions just drained him. Sylus began
tending to Tempest, his stallion, fixing the bridle so it was more comfortable for the magnificent beast.
Clicking his tongue at the roof of his mouth, Sylus began to tut “You’ve got yourself dirty, Tempest.” he
then reached into the leather bag that was attached to the back end of the saddle that lay upon Tempest’s
back, taking out a wooden handled brush. Slowly, Sylus began to brush the stallion’s coat, brushing out
the dirt, before making eye contact with Tempest as he continued “You do this on purpose?” he asked, a

smirk playing on his lips “Knew you’d get a good ol’ brush didn’t you?” Anyone passing by may have
thought Sylus to be a loon, talking to his horse as if it could respond, but that’s just how Sylus was. He
loved Tempest, he was Sylus’ baby. Once the brushing of Tempest had finished and Sylus had sorted out
some water and food for his own horse - yes...Sylus quite literally found some separate water and food for
his own horse, so he didn’t have to share with the other horses - he took a step back to admire the area
properly. The wind could be heard whispering through the trees that surrounded the small village, whilst
the crickets and birds that come out at night could be heard all around. Peaceful Sylus thought At last.
Despite the vale of the night looming over the village, it was still lively and lit, the small houses and other
buildings littered around had windows that seemed to shine bright with fire. A lamp that never seemed to
go out, whilst every several steps would be a burning torch of sorts on a long pole, lighting the way,
acting as a makeshift lamp post. Now how do the dwarves get up there? Sylus thought, air coming out of
his nose as he laughed at himself silently. Suddenly bellowing laughter came from behind Sylus, the
laughter muffled by the thick wooden door of the tavern. Looking over his shoulder towards where the
noise came from, Sylus contemplated on whether he should join the rest of the men and women he arrived
with for a drink or two. “What do you think?” Sylus looked at Tempest, eyebrow raised “Drink or no
drink?” the horse just stared at him, before letting out a puff of air from his lips “Yeah...You’re right. I
don’t really feel like a drink anyway.” Sylus responded to the puff of air, as if Tempest had just told him
not to bother. Sylus slowly made his way over to the building, that he was told on the journey here, would
be the building they would be staying in for the night. Knocking on the wooden door, he waited for a
response, and rather quickly the door creaked open to reveal a dwarvish lady, hair braided in the shape of
what Sylus could only describe as a pretzel, with a dark purple and white dress that stopped just at the
ankles.
“Can I ‘elp ya’, mista’?” the dwarven lady spoke, her accent so strong that Sylus was worried he’d have
to ask her to repeat herself a few times if he got into conversation with her
“Uh, yes...I am one of the people that recently arrived here, the group in the tavern-...”
“Och! Why didn’t ye’ say!? Come in, come in! I got ya’ beds and everythin’ all set up!” The lady
suddenly grabbed Sylus’ wrist, pulling him inside. Sylus’ eyes widened as he almost found himself
kissing the floor, if the lady hadn’t continued dragging him. Despite the little cottage-like building being
small, he was surprised by how many beds and such could be fit into one place. “Now,” the woman
continued speaking, still pulling Sylus around the building “Lads and lasses are separated, to make things
a wee bit more comfortable for the lot of ya’, don’t want the lasses being worried about changin’ in front
of ye’ - and of course, the same for you lads.” Finally the pair stopped at a smaller room, something that
resembled a pantry - just without the food and just a mattress on the floor with a fur blanket and pillow.
“This is your place.”
“Can I ask why it’s separated from everyone else?” Sylus asked, looking down at the woman
“Well,” the woman began, “Ye looks like someone who values their privacy. Would y’rather me move
ya’ to the room with the umpteen other beds out there?” Sylus didn’t even have to think about that
question, before he shook his head

“No, no. This is perfectly fine.” he cleared his throat “I was just wondering. Thank you, I’m sure this’ll do
nicely.” Sylus slowly made his way into the small room, before setting his bag down beside the bed
“There’s a lamp in the box over there if y’need it, along with the oils and such to light it. If ye need
anything, food, water, need to freshen up, gimme a shout and I’ll be right on over to ye!” the woman
turned on her heels and began to walk off, but Sylus stopped her
“Excuse me, what’s your name?”
“Och! Silly me, I completely forgot me manners, I’d lose my own head if it weren’t attached to me
shoulders! Me name is Drathira, but feel free to just call me Thira. Anythin’ else?” Sylus took a moment
to look around the small room, before shaking his head at Thira’s question
“I believe we’re all set. Thank you.”
“No problem! Goodnigh’!” Thira then walked off before Sylus could respond with a ‘Goodnight’ back.
Slowly he began to remove the burnt leather chest piece, unclipping his tattered cloak and finally
removing his boots. Now sitting down in just his shirt and trousers - along with the mystical metal bracer
that was firmly placed upon his wrist and never came off - , Sylus dug into the box where the lamp was
and fiddled with it until the flame appeared. Placing it next to his ‘bed’, Sylus then turned to his bag,
reaching in and taking out three leather bound books. One was smaller than the others, something that
resembled a notebook of sorts and when Sylus untied the leather strap around it, inside it revealed just
that. Notes upon notes upon notes...That...made no sense...And looked rather scribbly. It wasn’t of any
language that was on Azeroth that’s for sure, nor was it of any language on any other planet. This was just
Sylus attempting to read and write. Yes, that was right, Sylus was illiterate...literally. But, nevertheless,
he had finally started his personal journey on teaching himself how to read and write, he believed it was
time.
“No time like the present.” he whispered to himself, before opening up the other books. He sat there for a
moment in silence, the only sound being heard would be the footsteps of Thira wandering the building -
since the rest of the group had decided tonight would be the night to have an all-nighter in the tavern
apparently. His eyes skimming over the words that were in the books, only in the next moment to be
letting out a frustrated yelp as he slammed one book shut. Sylus sat there for a minute, legs crossed, palm
smacking against his head “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Forget it, it’s no use.” he spoke to himself, reaching
out towards one of the books, only to stop suddenly. His eyes had caught sight of the ring attached to his
ring finger, his wedding band that he never takes off. Silence took over the room yet again, but for a
different reason this time, Sylus was thinking about his beloved. Liberty. The red lipped country bumpkin
who could send Sylus’ heart to his throat with just a single look. Memories flashed across his mind of the
times the couple spent together, the times she had to read things for him, or write things for him. And then
the memory of the wedding came up. He couldn’t read or write...so he had to memorise what he wanted
to say. Liberty seemed to love his vows, however thinking back on it, he couldn’t help but wonder if only
he could read and write, would the vows have been better? Suddenly a frown appeared on Sylus’ brow,
before he opened up the books once more, this time concentrating so hard he felt a vein would pop out of
his head at any moment. Taking out a piece of writing charcoal, Sylus began to slowly spell out a word,

both on the paper but also with his voice. His writing was slow, because he wanted to get it right and for
it to actually make sense, but he was getting there. Slow and steady wins the race, after all.
“S...U...G...A...R” began spelling out, before looking at the word he had just managed to type
“...Languages are so confusing...Why the hell is it spelt S U G A R when it’s said like S H U G A…”
Sylus shook his head at his own confusion “And Red used to pronounce it ‘Shugur’ with her little
twang…” he sat there impersonating Liberty’s accent and butchering it at the same time, his voice going
into a high pitch, before letting a little gasp come out from between his lips “I just spelt a word right.”
Suddenly he stood up, pointing at the book and pencil “I spelt a word right.” in a louder voice, before
suddenly punching the air “Yes! I did it!” Sylus stopped in his tracks, before blinking down at the open
books “I gotta keep going, for all I know this could be a moment of madness that’s making me do this.”
quickly he sat down again, grabbing the pencil and the notebook, before writing another word underneath
‘Sugar’. “R...E...D…” That was right...right? Sylus looked at the word for a moment, frowning, before
speaking out again “Red...Easiest word I’ve done so far but...I still did it!” he began rambling on like an
excited young boy who had just gotten the toy he wanted for his birthday from his parents. Jigging around
with excitement on his bottom, he began to titter to himself before writing a final word “T...E...M...P…”
A pause, a frown on his face as he tried to think what came next “Est? Temp...est…” Sylus looked up at
the ceiling as if trying to visualize the word in front of him, then giving himself a reassuring nod
“E...S...T” He then looked down at the word, saying it over and over again slowly, to make sure it was
indeed correct. “Wait.” he spoke to himself again “I can’t read, or well...I mean, I’m not the greatest of
readers, this could all be wrong…” Eyes widening yet again, he suddenly stood up, grabbing his notebook
and making his way out of the room he had been sitting in, down the small hallway “Thira?!” as soon as
he called out to Thira, she just seemed to appear, her head popping out from behind one of the large
wooden beams in holding parts of the house up
“Eh? Everythin’ alright, lad?” Poor Thira didn’t have much time to understand what was going on before
a book was shoved in her face
“Quick! What do these words say?”
“I don’t remember signin’ up for a spelling bee, lad-...”
“Please! What do they say?” Thira raised an eyebrow at Sylus, before taking a look at the book and
reading the words out
“Sugar, Red and Tempest.” Thira looked up at Sylus, eyebrow still raised “These meant to mean
somethin’?”
“No-...I mean, yes! Yes. They all mean something.” Sylus jiggled the book once more, speaking up again
“Are they all spelt correct?”
“Aye, the handwriting isn’t something to comment on though.” Sylus brought the book to his chest,
hugging it almost, letting out a little ‘Yes!’ to himself, before looking down at Thira

“Thank you! I’ll be back to my room now.” And before Thira could even comment, Sylus had already
turned on his heels and was back on his way to his room. When he finally got there, he sat back down on
the mattress, books around him, pencil in hand where he spent the majority of the night practicing over
and over again, until his eyes could no longer stay open and his body could no longer stay awake. He fell
asleep that night with his notebook next to his face, hand on the paper, pencil rolled off to the side. Word
after word was written in the book, all with a personal meaning to Sylus, along with some words that
could be used in your everyday conversations, a lot were spelt wrong, whilst others were scribbled out
and rewritten the correct spelling way. There was one last word he managed to write before his body gave
up on him that night.
Liberty.
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