When Ike had first arrived in Azeroth, summer was just beginning to give way to fall. Now, winter had come, and here he was, still taking in what sights he could find. Already he's spent more time in this realm than in the others he's reached through the Outrealm Gate, and he wasn't ready to leave. Part of it just had to do with some of the restlessness he felt -- as well as the Forsaken he'd found himself fighting off when his travels brought him through what used to be Lordaeron. This world was not even a third as peaceful as the other realms he'd visited. A sense of obligation, of helping those who couldn't help themselves, had contributed to his lengthy stay.
And so Ike had eventually found his way to Dalaran, and found himself mystified by the scenery. The mages he knew from back home would probably consider the city paradise. Ike, on the other hand, never had a mind for magic, so to him it was primarily a curiosity. But it seemed as good a place as any to seek refuge from the biting cold, and he'd been able to make himself comfortable, quite possibly until the coming of spring.
One evening, amid the festivities of the season, Ike made his way to a certain tavern. He may not drink, but he had quite the appetite for tavern food. It was a bit late at the time, and he'd found dinner wasn't enough food for him to last until dawn. As he entered, he took notice of the decorations, though to him they carried no meaning. He wasn't familiar with the Feast of Winter Veil, after all.
Ike noticed fairly quickly that there were only a handful of patrons left. All of them were men like him, save one -- a woman, clearly a mage by looking at her clothes, sitting in a corner stool. That got him double-checking the clientele -- none of them seem to have harassed her at all, but you never know when that could change. And at the very least, there was one person in here he could trust to not try anything with the lady -- himself.
So, Ike walked up to the stool next to hers and took a seat upon it. He gave her a nod acknowledging her -- if she saw it over her book -- and then got the barkeep's attention.
"Excuse me. May I order two club sandwiches and a glass of water? Thanks."
The bartender took his order and walked back into the kitchen. With nothing else to do, Ike turned to the woman next to him. Now that he got a closer look at her, he could see that she was quite beautiful, though he could also see perhaps just a hint of melancholy etched into her brow.
"Pardon me. I hope I'm not intruding by taking this seat."
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When Ike had first arrived in Azeroth, summer was just beginning to give way to fall. Now, winter had come, and here he was, still taking in what sights he could find. Already he's spent more time in this realm than in the others he's reached through the Outrealm Gate, and he wasn't ready to leave. Part of it just had to do with some of the restlessness he felt -- as well as the Forsaken he'd found himself fighting off when his travels brought him through what used to be Lordaeron. This world was not even a third as peaceful as the other realms he'd visited. A sense of obligation, of helping those who couldn't help themselves, had contributed to his lengthy stay.
And so Ike had eventually found his way to Dalaran, and found himself mystified by the scenery. The mages he knew from back home would probably consider the city paradise. Ike, on the other hand, never had a mind for magic, so to him it was primarily a curiosity. But it seemed as good a place as any to seek refuge from the biting cold, and he'd been able to make himself comfortable, quite possibly until the coming of spring.
One evening, amid the festivities of the season, Ike made his way to a certain tavern. He may not drink, but he had quite the appetite for tavern food. It was a bit late at the time, and he'd found dinner wasn't enough food for him to last until dawn. As he entered, he took notice of the decorations, though to him they carried no meaning. He wasn't familiar with the Feast of Winter Veil, after all.
Ike noticed fairly quickly that there were only a handful of patrons left. All of them were men like him, save one -- a woman, clearly a mage by looking at her clothes, sitting in a corner stool. That got him double-checking the clientele -- none of them seem to have harassed her at all, but you never know when that could change. And at the very least, there was one person in here he could trust to not try anything with the lady -- himself.
So, Ike walked up to the stool next to hers and took a seat upon it. He gave her a nod acknowledging her -- if she saw it over her book -- and then got the barkeep's attention.
"Excuse me. May I order two club sandwiches and a glass of water? Thanks."
The bartender took his order and walked back into the kitchen. With nothing else to do, Ike turned to the woman next to him. Now that he got a closer look at her, he could see that she was quite beautiful, though he could also see perhaps just a hint of melancholy etched into her brow.
"Pardon me. I hope I'm not intruding by taking this seat."