“((Originally posted on ShC realmportal 10/28/05 Gaark was a warlock I rolled the day the server opened. When asked to describe him, I used one word: Old. He was elderly in every sense of the word. Imagine every cranky grandparent…only green, and with the abilitiy to control demons and cast shadow spells. THAT, in a nutshell, was Gaark. Most of my stories are based on game and class-related mechanics…but not this one. Enjoy.)) As the caravan prepared to camp in the Barrens that night, the tailor was in an ecstatic mood. Tomorrow would be the big day; the day that the marriage would finally take place. His mate-to-be, Shaharrah, was 2 wagons behind, delivering a large shipment of herbs into Orgrimmar. Once the delivery was completed, she and Gaark would go to the spot in the Valley of Spirits where they met for the first time. They would repeat the vows, and become mates. They would be the finest looking couple in all Orgrimmar: She resplendent in the golden robe he had made for her, and he a sight to behold in his robe of white. The attacks came in the middle of the night. Chaos. Fires. Gaark awoke to the smell of smoke. Seeing the bedlam outside, he jumped out of the wagon to find small demon creatures hurling fireballs toward the wagons. Grabbing a stick, he rushed into the melee, trying to fend off the attackers. As the wagon drivers began to beat the imps back, the ground began to shake. Obviously, this had just been the first wave of the attack. wow gold As the infernals began their attacks, one thought passed through Gaark’s mind. Shaharrah. What had happened to her. He ran to her burning wagon to find her hacking and coughing underneath. “Get up, Woman! We need to get out of this place! The infernals are going to destroy everything! Let’s get what we can and run!” Quickly grabbing a few things from the wagon, the couple rushed to the tailor’s burning wagon.