Name: Sednaq of Mikiruq
Class: Expert (non-combatant)
Professions: Skinning, leatherworking, fishing, cooking, first aid
Religion: Traditional tuskarr shamanism
Alignment (per D&D): True Neutral
Traits (per CK2): gregarious, gluttonous, kind, diligent, brave, lustful
Tag Archives: Northrend
Name: Sednaq of Mikiruq
I really wish my debtors would stop winding up dead or otherwise incapacitated. I mean, technically the last one was a set up with a body procured by a lich, but this time it really happened. I sent a few people to track down a Forsaken who owed me some gold. I knew he was spending time around the Bloodmoon Isle in Grizzly Hills, researching the worgen curse, probably on behalf of the Banshee Queen, although he’d never officially admit it. So I got a few people together and sent them through a portal to Grizzly Hills and told them to look for that Forsaken. After interrogating some starving trolls, they learned he hid in a nearby crypt (what is with Forsaken and crypts?) and went in to investigate. Lo and behold, the Forsaken was dead and had no gold on him. But this is where the fun part starts.
The descent into Azjol-Nerub went fairly smoothly. I fully expected some troubles to crop up – some leftover undead Nerubians, maybe evil living Nerubians worshiping Yogg-Saron, maybe something else of the multiple evils that lie in the unexplored parts of that forgotten kingdom. But no, everything went swimmingly. The most trouble we met so far was a couple of bats and spiders, nothing the group of 10 people couldn’t handle. This Xarthat guy kept leading us deeper and deeper, and it was only getting darker and damper. Really, I’m a bird, I was made for open skies and trees not for cramped, nearly airless corridors. It was a slow and painful torture.
So I almost died. Or actually died and then came back, depending on your point of view. It was an odd sensation. When that undead plunged the sword through me, I was overcame with great pain but only for a brief moment. Very quickly everything went dark and the next thing I remember was a sudden influx of warmth, the kind I haven’t felt since we entered Northrend. All the wounds were mended and I was able to get back on my feet. That Argent Crusade leader guy was standing around and making some lecture but I wasn’t paying attention. Just nested in a corner and looked around. Verroak was scared like a little hatchling. I’m not surprised. But I haven’t seen him like that since he left his second wife.
So that whole “dumping the dwarves to seek it on our own” thing didn’t exactly work out. When we stepped out of the ship and met some of the friendly vrykul there, subjects of King Aurgelmir, son of Ymiron who took over after his death, the dwarves claimed they are still not absolutely sure where to go and must first check some of the clues they had before. What they did know for sure was that we had to go Dragonblight, and from there, we would look for further clues as to where the artifacts could have been buried. It was undoubtedly a great mystery but if you knew just the right people, you could find out almost anything. So we continued through the Howling Fjord, among the corposes of giant iron monstrosities Loken created in this timeline, and towards Grizzly Hills and Dragonblight.