Tainish dropped his heavy pack on the first open table he found, then stretched mightily to realign his crooked spine. He was halfway to the bar for a large mug of ale when he had to laugh at himself. It sure was a manly scene -- bone weary warrior returned from battle with a bag full of loot and a thirst for ale. It was a good thing that no one else knew his bags were full of sewing supplies. His smile lasted all the way to the bar, where he found out that they were out of Dwarven Ale.
"Fine, I'll take the Stout."
The staff was busy gabbing about the recent violence toward barmaids in Orgrimmar. It was hardly surprising, what with all those orcs there, but still...who would knock out the person who brings the ale?
Tainish gathered his stout and headed back to his table to sew. He knew that his power as a warlock was improved by sewing his own clothing in the same way that a warrior knew he was more powerful by creating his own armor. And Tainish also knew that sewing could never be as manly as working in the forge, but he never, ever, sewed at the loom. He sewed in the bar over a mug of ale. Like a real man. Sort of.
Tainish was sewing because he had heard the news. After the great portal reopened, there were stories of tailoring with techniques that would make the most advanced sewing seem obsolete. It had been a while since Tainish had picked up a needle and thread, and he thought he would brush up on his skills to prepare for these new patterns.
Tainish started off a bit slowly, but his boney fingers quickly picked up the rhythm and movements of sewing again. Then, after the third stout, his boney fingers began to loose the rhythm and movements of sewing. His mind drifted a bit as well as he tried to remember where we was when he learned this stitch or that stitch.
And any stroll down memory lane always lead back to The Old Orc. Lately Tainish had been thinking a lot of the last time he had seen his friend. They both knew it was probably the last time they would see each other, even though they never said anything about it. The closest they came was when the orc asked Tainish for a favor.
"Tain," he said, "Ah hab sum frenz dat hab had sum very bad timez lately. Dey're land was destroyed and dey need sum helb. Send sum shinez to dis address ebery week until yur letters are returned. Dese are proud people. When dey nub longer need da shinez dey will stob taking dem. Ub all my 'sons' yu da ash dat I trust ta helb dese frenz."
Of course Tainish sent gold every week until one week the letter was returned with a simple "Thank you." But he had always wondered why the orc choose him. At first he thought it was because he was the most responsible, but when the word came out that the Undercity had built a portal to Silvermoon he started to wonder. Had the old orc made friends with elves?
Tainish wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had learned from his father that a common enemy did not necessarily make for good friends. Perhaps the Blood Elfs required a wary eye, but if the old orc thought this one named "Bindle" was worthy of aid then he may be a worthy friend. But Tainish would have to find him first.
But for now, he would have another stout.
And put away his sewing.