Life in Silvermoon had proven to be uneventful lately for Gavinoth Phoenixsong. It had been months since he participated in a Farstrider mission, and even longer since he’d taken any opportunity to explore the furthest crannies of Azeroth on his own. Each attempt had led to a lack of motivation for the hunter. He sat in his room at the Farstrider Lodge, twirling the dagger he had recovered several months ago from his family’s crypt in his hands. The blade caught the light of his lamp on the desk, occasionally reflecting it into the man’s fel-green eyes. He was dressed down for the occasion, simply wearing a black pair of pants and a green vest. His boots were strewn on the floor, disregarded when he placed his legs up on the desk and reclined back while he examined the dagger in thought.
He took the blade to his cheek, using the rough surface to scratch gently at an itch that interrupted his thinking process. A lone ruby was the one to catch the light now; the surface sparkling as he slowly rubbed the blade across the surface of his skin. His eyes moved to the lamp, staring into the light as if peering into the window of one’s soul. Many questions crossed his mind regarding the weapon and how his father obtained it. Obviously, his father found it in some undisclosed location; he wouldn’t even tell Gavin’s mother where. It had no real value financially; the other gems had been somehow wretched from the sockets of the blade sometime in the past.
A sharp knock at his door shook Gavin from his nostalgia, the blade leaving a cut on his cheek as he jerked in surprise. Cursing, he set it down and grabbed a handkerchief to prevent the blood from escaping the wound, and moved to answer the door, the thought prodding at his mind in irritation that he’d be expecting no company today.
A man stood on the other side of the door, towering slightly over the red-haired hunter. A robe adorned his frame; purple and gold woven throughout the trimming. His faded brown hair was neatly done, in a part that fell past his shoulders. His skin seemed a pale color, yet the man didn’t seem sickly. The voice that came from his lips was smooth, yet deep and otherworldly. “Gavinoth Phoenixsong…”
“I am he,” the hunter replied. “And you are?”
“I am Galgarion, of Shadowmoon Valley.”
“How do you know my name?”
“That is not important. I understand you are seeking a position in the Reliquary that was recently established.”
Indeed, he had applied to work with the Reliquary. However, with his limited experience in archaeology, the Reliquary was hesitant to employ his services. A vermilion brow arched suspiciously. “And what business is it to the mysterious man on my doorstep?” he commented, almost coldly.
“I have a task in which you may be interested in. If you’re looking for a foundation to get into the Reliquary, this might be what you need. And you’re no stranger to this adventure, either, as it’s one that your father set off on, himself.” Galgarion eyed the dagger sitting upon the desk.
Gavinoth looked back at the dagger for a moment, and then back to Galgarion. “You know about that expedition?”
Galgarion nodded. “I do. It seems your father wrote about it extensively in his journal, which I happened to locate through some market trading.” He reached into a satchel at his side, pulling out a journal, slightly battered, but no worse for wear. On the ebony cover, Gavin could make out his father’s name, engraved with a silver tint upon the leather. His gaze finally returned to the man from Shadowmoon.
“I’m listening. Come in.” He moved aside as Galgarion stepped into the room and Gavinoth shut the door behind them.
“The dagger -is- in your possession, then,” Galgarion observed as he stepped into the room. “Your father mentioned it in the journal, but didn’t specify what he had done with it.”
“It’s a family secret,” Gavinoth retorted. “Just as that journal should be.”
“I’ll give it to you,” Galgarion replied. “If you agree to work for me.”
The hunter pursed his lips. “What are you having me do?”
The man strode over to the window overlooking the Farstrider Square. “You no doubt know that there are other jewels which fit into the blade of that dagger,” he began. “According to your father’s journal, it pointed him to Stranglethorn Vale, to the location of one of the other jewels. If that’s the case, I’m led to believe that the jewels are connected to one another, and will lead whoever finds them to complete the dagger. Perhaps, if you can find all of the jewels, you’d be able to present the dagger to the Reliquary. It would be hard for them to dispute any experience you had in the field then.”
Gavinoth wasn’t completely convinced. “And what do you get out of this, exactly?”
Galgarion tilted his head back towards the hunter. “I have an interest in archaeology, myself. While circumstances prevent me from directly interacting with anyone of exalt within that field, I don’t think this opportunity would be wise to pass up. It’s in the interest of historical preservation. Plus, the name of the great Phoenixsongs could be restored.”
“I’m not interested in restoring my family’s name. I’m content with my life the way it is.”
“Is that a ‘no’, then?” The man frowned.
Gavinoth shook his head. “It isn’t. In fact, I’d greatly like to take on the challenge. If anything I can complete the work my father set out to do.”
The man smiled and moved over to the hunter. “Excellent. I can entrust the dirty work to you, then.” He held the journal out to the hunter. “I believe this belongs to you.” Gavinoth took it, and Galgarion began to make his departure, heading for the door.
“Hold on a second,” Gavinoth exclaimed. “I don’t even know where in Stranglethorn to start looking. That place is huge! Not to mention splintered from the Cataclysm.”
The man stopped in the doorway, turning to look at the hunter one last time. “Make your way to Hardwrench Hideaway, in Southern Stranglethorn. I’ve already got someone waiting for you there. You might want to gather some friends to come along. It could be dangerous. We’ll be in touch.” With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving the hunter to his thoughts.
Turning a corner, the man stepped through a portal into a cave. An imp jumped excitedly nearby upon his return. “Master! You’re back! Did he take the bait?”
The man smiled, his features melting and changing as he walked; his hair changed to a black color, and his skin, while remaining pale, switched to a greenish hue instead of a pink. Glowing runes appeared on his cheeks, and they wrinkled slightly as the man smiled, his voice remaining the same.
“I have shown him the way. The path from this point onward is his to take.”