The Fourth-Day Chore

Evarius awoke, momentarily disoriented by the drab metal around him, but it only took a moment before he realized that he'd taken a room the night before in Ironforge. With a sigh of resignation and only a slight pining for his beautiful home in Teldrassil, he rolled out of his bed and dressed in his priestly garb, sliding his Devout Bracers onto his wrists and securing them in place. Heading down to the common room, his floppy ears rang as the din of the busy tavern made him flinch slightly. He could feel the rest of the sleepiness melt away amongst the sheer noise of the busy dwarven town. Not stopping for food, he instead raided his bags for some Morning Glory Dew and sipped it slowly as he walked towards the Great Anvil in the centre of town. When he'd originally come here, the searing heat had chased him from the gryphon nests in a great hurry, but constant trips to the sprawling mountain city had allowed him to become accustomed to the higher temperate.

The Gryphonmaster nodded as he approached; it was hard to tell whether he had recognized Evarius, or was simply being friendly. Certainly, a dwarf like him would see a lot of faces coming and going, all day long. The night elf examined the maps set out around the nests, and decided to fly to Menethil Harbour. He handed the coin to Gryth Thurden, hoisted himself onto the feisty Gryphon, and took off into flight. Since the gryphon knew the route well, it was easy to simply let her fly at her own pace, since there was no rush today. Evarius' mind wandered to the task ahead of him, pondering as he did each time he took this trip what it would be like. It never got old.

The great beast squawked as it set down at the foot of the docks. Dismounting, Evarius gave it a pat on the beak before trotting off south to catch his ship. He could see the great white sails of many different vessels flapping idly in the breeze, and his heart lifted when he saw that the one he wished to take had just arrived, with passengers filing off, getting their land legs back, while those waiting to take the trip stood on the dock with the workmen who would load up cargo for the sail. Skirting around the passengers who had called their various mounts as soon as they had cleared the gangplank, a group of a dozen or more adventurers filed onto the ship. Some sat on the main deck, while others climbed the rigging to get a better view. One hunter used Eyes of the Beast, and chased around some of the gnomes with his large bear pet; the gnomes gestured angrily as the other passengers chuckled. Finally things settled down as the ship left the dock and began its trip to Kalimdor.

Since the trip was pretty boring, Evarius grabbed a comfortable piece of rigging and snoozed under the sun, smiling as he imagined his sleep leading him to the Great Emerald Dream. Perhaps some day, he pondered, being mindful of the fact that if he stayed here too long he'd likely burn his purple skin. Once lying around got boring, he sat up and tossed a leather ball he'd kept on him to the closest Rogue. The Human laughed, and tossed it back - and soon several balls were flying back and forth between many people on the ship, and laughter floated along the stiff winds that pushed the great ship towards its destination. Once the impromptu game was over, the night elf, in good spirits, clambered up to the crow's nest, and shouted in joy when he saw the dusky shoreline ahead of them. Trying not to be too excited, he made his way down to the main deck, bracing as the ship docked with a solid kathunk! He ran down the gangplank, once again avoiding those mounting up for a long run, and took a right at the main tree of the docks. He jogged down towards Darkshore and entered the inn, but didn't stop there; he slowed his pace and walked outside, approaching a bright blue fountain.

A sense of peace washed over him at the sight of the Moonwell. He approached it slowly, running his hand over the edges reverently, before dipping his fingers into the water, feeling it rush in a cool flow against his hand. Taking off his Dreadmist Sandals, he pulled his Runecloth Robe up around his knees and stepped into the cool waters. He set his backpack down against the edge of the moonwell, and pulled out two pieces of his precious Felcloth, shaking out the wrinkles. He remembered battling against the evil Satyrs of Felwood for these pieces, feeling proud he'd thinned their ranks, even if the effect seemed only temporary.

Picturing a new piece of cloth in his hands, he focused, then plunged the two pieces into the water, scrubbing them vigorously together, over and over, until his arms ached, and though he wanted to stop and rest he did not, for he knew it would ruin all the work that he had put into this. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, scrubbing harder, until his hands were raw and little black spots appeared before his eyes. Finally, in triumph, he held up a a shiny, wet piece of cloth, in the purest of whites so brilliant it nearly blinded the eye.

As Evarius stood there, admiring his newest piece of Mooncloth, his fellow night elf Morawa strolled by. Tapping her giant sword over her shoulder, she winked at the Priest who'd been with her since she was but a fledgling adventurer.

"Doing your laundry, are ya?" she teased.

"Indeed," he replied gravely.

....and ruined the effect completely by snapping her smartly in the rump with the damp material.