Secrets of the Frozen North, Part I
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The shoreline that the boat docked at was slightly more inviting than the black, featureless coastline which had loomed on the horizon for the past few hours. The storm at sea still raged though the coast seemed protected from the wicked winds. Departing the ship, Jarrick turned his attention northward, noting patches of blue mingling with a blanket of gray over the mainland. Under patchwork skies and nestled against the treeline was their destination; Camp Flagstaff.
The Captain pointed out that the ship had been docked at the southeastern edge of the Dragonblight, making mention that it was one of the few camps setup so far south in the region.
It looked different than what Jarrick imagined. Stories of expeditions into the frozen north had painted him an image of desolation; bare, uninhabitable land, stricken with grief and misery with an underlying sense of dread around every corner. Perhaps such a land existed beyond the small human encampment, but here, there was an beauty to the land he hadn’t expected to find.
The crew scattered about the encampment as the sun began to set. Patchwork skies melded into evening shades as a brilliant streak of orange stretched across the horizon. As Jarrick examined the camp it was quite apparent that they were significantly undermanned holding this position. Still, soldiers and workers alike bustled at a steady pace as they took care of their tasks before nightfall.
Jarrick kept an eye out for figures that looked of importance, hoping to find Tirion in the crowd. As he looked across the camp, a small group of men gathered around a table waved him down. He brushed the hair out of his face and approached the table.
“Aye, Jarrick. Good ta see ye’ made it safely. The seas are always rough this time o’ year but ye’ made it in one piece, not much ta complain about then aye?” The bearded Sergeant grinned.
Jarrick nodded. “Aye, a rough but manageable trip. How are things on this front?”
The Sergeant stood upright and crossed his arms. “Eh, quiet as of late. Hard ta tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing in the north, y’know?”
“Aye, I can imagine.” He said as he adjusted the pack slung over his shoulder. Before he had a chance to speak again he caught a glimpse of something that seemed out of the ordinary for the frozen north.
A woman, perhaps just slightly younger than himself and standing a foot or so shorter, spoke with a guard outside of the inn. Long, flowing robes made of royal blue and lined with gold and white covered a delicate frame. Her presence immediately reminded him of his beloved Mariel who had gone missing years before his journey north. Had it been any darker he may have even thought that it was her.
The woman smiled and laughed in conversation. Her eyes wandered and connected with his for the briefest of moments and in that moment, he felt as if he knew her somehow.
His chest fell as he exhaled and turned his attention back to the Sergeant. A strange feeling resonated within him but he wouldn’t notice it until long after he and the Sergeant parted ways.
“Have you news of Tirion’s whereabouts?” He asked the Sergeant.
The Sergeant studied him for a moment and then leaned over the table before them, scanning the map of Northrend laid across it. “Aye. Tirion was here a week or so ago before he departed northward once more.”
The Sergeant looked back up to Jarrick. “Unfortunately, he’s got a good lead on ye. There’s a silver linin’ though as his path was ta take him directly north through the Dragonblight, through the Crystal Forest, and up inta Dalaran fer some important business. We could get you on a bird first thing in the mornin’ and have you there in a few hours time.”
Suddenly, Jarrick felt the journey northward catching up to him. Sleepless nights due to rough seas and brutal nightmares that plagued him when he finally did sleep made for a very long journey.
He nodded. “Aye, thank you for the help, Sergeant. Until then, a warm hearth and a cold mug of ale is in order. I will come seek you out in the morning.”
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