Why?

((As some may know, A long time ago, I routinely ran with Raid Awesome (a large raiding organization on Scarlet Crusade) The player known as Kash asked us to write up why we would follow his toon (a crazied orc and founder of Raid Awesome). This is what I wrote. Incidently, this just exactly what happend.))



Fire, lava, and ash assaulted Buthaleirus' senses, but the young rogue pressed on, slamming his broken milk bottle into the Molten Giant's flank. Challenge after challenge, Buthaleirus stepped to the fore, until the group's leader, Ghis, commanded to halt.

What lay before them was a challenge like none other the rogue had ever faced: The Barron Geddon. Larger than anything Butha had ever seen, the future Rogue Leader had no idea what to do. Humbled by the power around him, Butha asked for aid, asked for instruction, yet, all he received was silence.

"They are just busy and don't have time for my questions." Butha thought to himself. Then turning to Alabaster, he asked, "Sweets, joo knows whut Butha sahpost ta dew. Ah' wunts ta help.?"

She turned, touched his cheek and began to say..."My dear.."

"PULLING!" Ghis ordered, and within seconds the great Geddon engaged.

The chaos that ensued is marred by a cloudy memory of victory marked with the death of his love, Alabaster. After the battle, the dead were raised and treasure passed out. Once again, Ghis spoke, commending those that wore the colors of Tempest. At this, Buthaleirus looked at his colors and at those his lover. The red and white tabard of Last Dawn did not match or fit those that surrounded it. He was an outsider. He felt small.

An hour or so later as he was nearing rest in Orgrimmar, Buthaleirus, a respected rogue in his own right, sent word expressing his gratitude for the chance to see such a dangerous foe and to fight alongside such a fearsome group as Tempest, via the wind to Ghis. Perhaps the wind was still that night, as Butha tried several times, but never heard a reply. To ensure his gratitude was passed along, the rogue sent a goblin mail. Days went by, and no reply was ever received.

Although not familiar with formalities, Butha was not stupid. He knew when he was not welcomed. More importantly, he could recognize apathy; something the passionate shadowmaster despised.

In the following weeks, Tempest invited the Butha on several excursions, each time Ghis was never present. After just a few encounters, Buthaleirus grew to respect those of the clan, but never forgot or forgave the slight their pompous leader showed the proud rogue. Those same weeks brought change as well as opportunity. His love became distant, withdrawn. For months, Alabaster had been under constant pressure. Although she reigned as the Dark Lady standing tall over the Last Dawn, Ghis sang a siren-like song encouraging her to be more than a guest to Tempest. Many of the Last Dawn rebelled sickened by the situation. Buthaleirus, however, stood quiet, observing. Until one day, he spied a recruitment of sorts.

—-The parchment stood out the way the sickest calf in a herd does. It's color browned and stained. The hand-writing was barely readable, and the stench! How could paper stink? Even more ridiculous, how could paper smell like whiskey? Butha nearly gagged as he read it slowly and to himself. The Shadowmaster had heard of this Doctor Kash, and on occasion shared a blood-shedding with the self-proclaimed Reverend. Runs against the undead, ogres and the dreaded alliance had proved the Doctor a capable, albeit squishy, warrior of the Horde. Although his axe and mace were powerful weapons, there was something even more powerful about this orc. Kash's recruitment was not for a single clan, but an army.

Skeptical, Butha snatched the whiskey-stained invitation and headed to the "blimpie", reciting one word over and over "shenanigans". Once again, Butha fought his way through the core. This time as Butha bashed with his maces, he did not feel like an outsider. This time he did not feel small. This time Buthaleirus felt...awesome.

Back in Orgrimmar, several hours after the run ended, as the battered troll was preparing to send word of gratitude to Kash, thanking him for the opportunity to bleed along side him, he noticed a letter. As Butha unfolded the blood-stained parchment, the familiar smell of whiskey clouded his head

Butha,You didn't die unless we all died. You did good. Write up something for the rogues.Thanks,Kash."

THE Mace rogue smiled. He did indeed feel f*ckin awesome.