(2025-10-29) Fulmurar

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Author:	Saaron
Summary:	Dane and Sandy venture in the northern lands of the Twilight Highlands to find information about Fulmurar, Sandy's missing, dwarven brother. There, they learn more than they expected.
Rating:	T for Teen

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Discovery about the death of a loved one.

The summer sun hangs near the center of the sky, cooking Stormwind and its inhabitants beneath it. It's a treacherously cloudless day, with a crisp, bright blue sky that reaches off in the distance. Children play in the streets, even in the Cathedral District, making the most of the warm weather in between breaks, huddled together in the shade of buildings. Atley marches up to the landing of Sandy's residence, a wicker basket under one arm. He wears his sturdy work boots, pants, and his trademark vest, with a plaid long-sleeved green shirt tucked into his gauntlets. He raises a fist and raps on the door with three solid thuds.

Almost instantly, the door opens. Florendine, the Spellbond butler, opens the door. "Sir Atley," she says, bowing her head. "Please, do come in." Her outfit is a formal suit in a style worn by many a butler before, even in this heath. Not a single drop of sweat runs along her face however, and she seems immune to the weather. "May I offer you something?" As he can see through the door, it appears that the house seems bigger on the inside -surely magically so. Everything is finely decorated, in a rather high elven way. Stairs run on both sides of the entrance, leading to the hallways upstairs.

Atley inclines his head. "Miss." He steps inside and examines her sweatless condition, his brow lifted, before taking in his surroundings in a brief, contemplative moment. "I'd be obliged for some water," he says, looking back at her with a nod. "I trust Sanders is about, then?" he asks, adjusting the basket under his arm.

"Indeed. I will call for him right away." Florendine extends a hand towards the basket. "Please, let me carry this for you." She extends the other, and conjures an elegant glass of water within it.

Atley hands the basket over. “Pair of chicken pot pies, from my wife,” he says, before he accepts the glass of water and takes a sip. He cinches his thumb in his belt and waits, eyes still openly taking in the home.

Florendine bows her head. "I'll have these put in the proper conservation conditions right away, and the basket back to you. Please wait for a second, Sir Atley." Florendine blinks away in one of the rooms to the side of the entrance. Atley is left there all alone for a little bit.

Atley briefly double-takes Florendine before he quietly smacks his lips and continues to take in his lavish surroundings, sipping from the glass.

Soon enough, Sandy appears over the balcony of the second floor. He's dressed in a simple green and white shirt with blue pants and orange slippers. "Dane!" He rushes down stairs and hugs his friend.
“Hullo’, Sanders —“ Atley greets, his words clipped as he’s hugged. He returns the hug, patting Sandy between the shoulder blades a few times before he grips him by his shoulders and holds him back to inspect him, giving him a brief, firm shake. “You look well, mate. How’s the leg holding, then?”

"I'm really getting used to it now," Sandy smiles at him. "I can levitate if it gets a little too heavy to carry now." Sandy takes a step back. "What did you came here for?"

Atley releases Sandy and nods vaguely behind him. "Brought two chicken pot pies — from Ivri. And I've come to see to you." He sets his hands on his hips. "I've yet to see your home. I cannot say I'm properly surprised by … " he glances around at the decor, working his jaw in thought. "The extravagance. It looks properly Thalassian."

Sandy chuckles. "Yeah, with all our ties to the Kirin Tor, the Spellbond spent a lot of time around elves. It definitely influenced my family's taste." He points to a door at the back of the entrance. "Do you want to come to one of the gardens? I heard about the pies, and I asked Florendine to bring us two slices there!"

Atley inclines his head and grunts his answer of approval at the suggestion. "Very well." He finishes off his water and continues to inspect the home, prepared to follow Sandy outside.

Florendine appears next to him and conjures a plate for him to place the empty glass on. "Do you need anything else?"

Atley lifts a brow as she appears and sets the glass down on the plate. "Not now, Miss. Cheers," he says, inclining his head in thanks. He takes a brief moment to examine her before shifting his attention back to Sandy.

The butler bows her head and blinks away again. Sandy shrugs at Dane. "She didn't blink as much before. I think since she can't do it just as much around mom as before since she lost her sight, she's taking any opportunity she can get!" Sandy gives Dane a follow me gestures and leads him through a short series of hallways, to a small round table with four chairs in a tiny, sunny garden. Colorful flowers all around attract bees and butterflies. "Mom likes to drink tea here!"

Atley eyes Sandy and nods as he explains the butler’s antics. “She’s a sharp one. I doubt much gets past her. Bit cheeky, too.” Atley follows Sandy into the garden and raises his brows as he looks around. “I can see why. ‘Tis a fine place,” he remarks with a flat, but earnest, intonation. He doesn’t immediately take a seat, instead taking a moment to observe the plants and their inspection connoisseurs. “How long have you lived here, Sanders?”

Sandy's eyes widen slightly at the comments about Florendine. "I think I've never actually seen her smile." Sandy sits down at the table, inviting Dane to join him. The Shado priest seems perfectly used to this place and just looks at Dane. "Uh… Forever, basically! I did move to Dalaran for a bit, to be… Close to Gwen."

Atley settles into a seat, completely filling it with his frame, his bulky arms flowing over as they balance on the armrests. "Right," he says with a short growl, before he eyes Sandy up and down and nods slowly. "You look good, Sanders. Sober," he adds with a frank, inspective tone.

Sandy chuckles. "It's a little too early. Say that to me again in like, five hours."

Atley nods slowly with a short grunt. "A little bit of drink is no crime, so long as it's not your master." He smacks his lips a few times before he glances back at the actual home, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "This seems as fine a place as any to rest after the chaos of recent times."

Sandy silently looks down at the floor. "Yeah, it is." He sighs. "I wish I could be doing more than just rest, you know? That's what I've been doing for… Months, now."

Atley studies him knowingly for a moment before he inclines his head. "How's your mother? I always thought fondly of that woman."

Sandy looks up. "She's doing great, I think! I mean, she was worried about what happened in Theramore, but I think right now she's doing good. She let go of a lot of responsibility in the past few years, and I think she's happier for that!"

Atley grunts. "The lot've you have grown up. She's earned her rest as a mother," he says with a nod, before refocusing on Sandy, interlocking his scarred fingers together in his lap. "And wot' news of your brother?"

Sandy chuckles at the comment about his mom. She does, he's right. He then shrugs. "Haven't found him. Nothing about him, actually, just like in Stormwind. It's like he just… vanished." He clasps his hands together tightly and stares at them.

Atley gives a slow nod and grunts as he observes Sandy. He leans forward in his seat, slouching to try to meet Sandy's eyeline, resting his elbows on his spread thighs. "I want to help," he growls quietly. "We can go to the Highlands. Together. Search the clans. Cobalt has pull there."

Sandy looks up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You'd do that? Why?" Florendine enters the character by walking, and brings out two slices of the pot pies on very nice, decorated plates to the two men. She stands there a little bit, her hands behind her back, waiting for more instructions if they're necessary. Sandy looks a bit embarassed to talk about his brother in front of her, though.

Atley nods slowly until Florendine arrives. He clears his throat and inclines his head. “Cheers,” he says in thanks, waiting for her to leave, and when she does, he swipes up a fork and carves into the chicken pot pie slice. “We go back, Sanders. We’re mates.” he says with a stern look, eyes flicking back to the man sitting across from him. “I know the land there, and the people. We’ll travel fast with just the pair of us.”

Florendine understands that she has overstayed her welcome. "Enjoy your meal," she says, before walking towards the door. Sandy nods more and more enthusiastically as Dane speaks. "Yeah, you're right. With your help, maybe I can find him!" Sandy digs into the pie with his fork and takes a bite. "This is so good! I love Ivri's cooking!" He beams, then frowns a little. "Ivri made this, right?"

Atley scoffs with amusement before he takes a bite. “Aye, she did. I’ll pass along your regards. Of course, she’d rather hear it from you.” Upon observing the frown, he says, “P’raps you can come visit after we find your brother. Read that storybook you gifted us to my children. Karson still grabs at the floating shapes.”

"Its been a while since I've seen her. I miss her," Sandy says sadly, he then brightens up at learning Karson still enjoys the book. "Oh, I've read that book already, you know! Before I gifted it to you. But I'd love to come by!"

Atley grunts. “Wot’ all do you know of your brother’s whereabouts? Have you got a reason to believe he’s still in the Highlands?” He leans back, carrying the plate in one hand, slicing the pie in half with a fork to take a quiet bite, square jaw tensing as he chews thoroughly.

Sandy shakes his head. "I don't know. That's the last place we knew he went to, at least." He takes another bite of the pie. A sad one this time. "He used to travel from the Highlands to Stormwind on his gryphon all the time."

Atley nods a few times and swiftly finishes off the pie in the form of a few quiet bites before he sets the plate back down and links his scarred, calloused fingers together in his lap, elbows propped up on the armrests. "Do you know if he was affiliating with any clan in particular?"

Sandy stuffs his face with the pie, taking a long time to answer. "I, uh…" he scratches the back of his neck. "I never asked. I was a kid at the time." His brother went missing when Sandy was 18. That's kid age, right?

Atley grunts and glances around at the opulent surroundings for a moment before shifting his gaze back to Sandy. "We could go. Today, even. I'm slated to be on squad, next, but we've no active deployment at the moment. I've got some time, and I'm willing to venture up into the Highlands. With you."

Sandy's eyes shine as he drops his fork loudly onto his plate. "I'd love to!" He nods gratefully, a smile almost shyly drawing on his face. "Thank you so much, Dane."

Atley grunts. "I'll return home and get my equipment. Once I return, we can take the portal here in town, and make for the Highlands." He starts to push himself up.

Sandy gets up slowly at the same time and goes to throw his arms around Dane. "Thank you, Dane!"

Atley does not hesitate to hug him back this time. He gives Sandy a few firm clasps. "Gather wot' all you need. I'll return within the hour, and then we'll bugger off north."

-

Sandy, levitating a few inches above the ground with a backpack carefully stuck to his back, waits for Dane to come pick him up in front of his house. They didn't really say where they were meeting next, but if he notices that Dane isn't coming back, the young priest can just go to the portal pretty easily from where he's… Standing?

A shape appears in the sky. Wings spread wide suggest that it may be a bird, but it dives low and quickly gains speed before landing abruptly in front of Sandy's house. Atley sits atop Thoras, both of them clad in matching blue and gold armor. The gryphon swings his snow-white white feathered head towards Sandy and shrewdly narrows an emerald green eye. Atley carries his shield, Thunderfury, and wears his Knight's Colors tabard as opposed to his usual Cobalt Company insignia — he also goes without a cloak. A rucksack rests securely slung over one shoulder. "Hullo', then. Ready to bugger off?"

Sandy almost instantly recognizes Thoras from the ground, he's seen Dane on his gryphon a few times after all. He watches the lion-bird dive towards him, completely unbothered. "Hi, there!" he says to the gryphon. "I'm ready!" he smiles, putting on his Cobalt Company tabard. That's the only he has.

Atley shakes his head. "Leave that," he says, nodding to Sandy's tabard. "This isn't official Company business. It's just you and I." He leans down to firmly pat Thoras a few times. The gryphon scowls at Sandy for a moment, before he identifies him as familiar and sharply swings his head to the left to scrutinize other elements of the Cathedral District.

Sandy looks at Dane and blink. "How will they know they should help us because we're with the Company, then?" Sandy goes to pat Thoras on the head, if he'll allow it.

Thoras swings his head back to Sandy as he approaches. His sharp, golden beak slowly opens as he glares fixedly at the human. Atley coils the reins tighter around his hand but otherwise makes no sudden movements, and neither does Thoras. The petting is allowed. Atley says, "I know the leaders, Colin Thundermar, Keegan Firebeard, and Kurdran Wildhammer. They know of Cobalt. That'll be enough." He points at the Cobalt tabard. "I don't want anyone thinking we're on an official, sanctioned Company mission."

The petting is allowed! Sandy beams and does the allowed amount of petting. "Ah, true!" Sandy removes the tabard, opens the front door to his house and throws the piece of clothing randomly into the entrance. "Okay. I'm ready!"

Atley lifts a brow at the wanton way the tabard is discarded and scoffs with amusement, shaking his head. "Ought to show that tabard more respect, Sanders," he chides, before offering the younger man a hand to tug him onto Thoras' saddle. "Hold tight. This bugger moves." he gives Thoras a pair of light spurs before wings expand and heartily flap, launching them skyward. If the gryphon is encumbered by the extra weight, it's not readily apparent. Atley flies over Cathedral Square, and the Dwarven District, making for the central lake in Stormwind's interior.

"The tabard will be fine, don't worry!" Sandy beams. "Whenever I leave something on the floor, that's how I tell Florendine she can take care of it!" Sandy levitates to join Dane on Thoras, enjoying the flight greatly. He does take deep breaths at times, worried about today's mission.

Atley leads Thoras into a slow, controlled, arcing dive. They don't land on the island, but at the last moment, the gryphon extends his wings to dramatically decrease their speed before they soar through the portal. In an instant, they find themselves in the courtyard of Highbank Keep — another, slightly larger island. The structures have largely been completed, including the on-base tavern, and while the mood in the air is a busy one, things seem to have settled down since Dane and Sandy's last encounter here. Atley swings his leg over and dismounts, raising a hand to firmly pat Thoras a few times on the back, slinging his ruck sack onto the saddle. "We'll see to Kurdran Wildhammer, first," he says to Sandy, nodding to one of the open, stone-arched doors as he waits for Sandy. "Wot's your brother's name, and any and everything else that could be useful."

If Sandy was a little stressed about their search, he isn't anymore. He screams excitedly as they fly through the portal instead of landing - he'd never thought about going through a portal while on a mount! This opens up a brand new world of possibility. As they land, Sandy takes a brief look around before levitating off of the gryphon. "His name is Fulmurar… Um… I don't really remember his last name, to be honest. He was just Fulmurar, to me." Sandy looks down in shame. "But he was a shaman, or at least training as one!"

Atley regards him evenly and turns to start marching up the stairs. "A shaman. Of the Earthen Ring?" he asks Sandy. "We worked alongside many of them here. S'a chance that if Kurdran doesn't know where your brother is, he ought to know who else could." The steps creak underneath him and his armor. Atley removes his helmet, tucks it under an arm, and rakes a hand through his hair.

Sandy winces a little. "Is the Earthen Ring a new thing? Because if it is, no he wasn't, he was an apprentice." Sandy takes a few steps forward, standing pretty close behind Dane, ready to follow him on his adventure.

Atley tongues the inside of his cheek as he glances at Sandy and nods, making his way up the stairs and into the main room of the keep. There, Kurdran Wildhammer stands, wearing armor and regalia that appear to be a mish-mash of traditional Wildhammer warrior garb, and official Alliance uniform. The old dwarf warrior speaks to a pair of high ranking human soldiers, and glances over as Atley and Sandy arrive before he waves the soldiers away. Atley grunts at Sandy and marches forward, bending into a low bow. "Kurdran. You look to be in good health." Kurdran proudly sets his hands on his hips. "Better than I deserve!" he booms with a grin. "What's this? Cobalt's back fer' more, are 'ye?" Atley straightens and shakes his head. "Not this time," he says, gesturing to Sandy. "This is unofficial business. Gausanders Spellbond, an old mate of mine, and a member of Cobalt Company. We've come to look for his adoptive brother, a dwarf named 'Fulmurar.' Last Sanders here heard, he had made his way to the Twilight Highlands to become a shaman."

Sandy follows Dane, a little worried to introduce himself to someone important like that. He's done it before, but that was the king of humans. He knows how to act with a human king. He stays back, fidgeting with the tabard he's not wearing. Until he's introduced. "Yes, hi, I'm Gausanders Spellbond," he bows, his head bowing even deeper so he can hides his wincing. Dane already said that. He takes a few steps back. "Fulmurar is like a brother to me, and he's bone gone for a few years now. Do you have… Any idea where he could have gone?"

Kurdran examines Sandy closely and strokes his long, fire-colored beard in thought. "The name is not known 'ta me… Many of the Wildhammers trickled back inta' the Highlands in recent times. It's been a heavy rain of me folk." Atley grunts. "Have ye' checked with Firebeard? Thundermar?" Atley shakes his head. "Not yet. I wanted to come to you first. Are the Thanes where we left them last?" he asks with a gruff wryness in his tone. Kurdran chuckles lightly. "Aye, they ought. Ye've put tha' Twilight's 'ta the axe but the Dragonmaw are still aboot', and stronger than evar." Atley nods and grunts again, looking to Sandy in case he has anything to add. "We'll bugger off into the hills, then."

Sandy waits patiently for the conversation between the two to be over. "Actually, that's funny you mention the Highlands, because he was from here originally, but had to move to the Highlands to be between Stormwind and this place more easily!" Sandy waits a little bit. "Would that help?" Sandy scratches the back of his neck. "Also, are we risking wasting people's time with the Dragonmaw issue, here?.."

Kurdran Wildhammer settles his gaze on Sandy. "Aye — that is, if ye' go aboot' asking for more gryphon wings ta borrow. Our cause is urgent, and no gryphon nor rider can be spared." Atley shakes his head. "We won't. We're only here for information." Kurdran nods, hands still on his hips. "'Fraid I can't be of much help to ye." Atley grunts. "Thank you, nonetheless. Let's move," he says to Sandy, turning to leave.

Sandy salutes. Did Dane salute when he oleft? Uh ho. Sandy did, now, that's too late to think about it. "… Bye, and thank you!" He turns to leave with Dane. "Do you think… Someone will know something?" He whispers, his voice breaking on that last syllable.

Atley nods as they step back outside and into the courtyard. "I do," he says, raising a hand to firmly clasp Sandy on the shoulder, giving him a firm shake. "We've yet to even scratch the surface of wot' we can do to search for him." Thoras is there, of course, glaring both of them down. He fans his wings, a casual display of his size and strength. Yes, Thoras, very nice. Atley swings himself aboard and reaches a hand down to Sandy. "We'll next make for Keegan Firebeard. Thane of the Firebeard Clan, and recently married. He ought to be back from the honeymoon by now. Then Colin, Thane of the Thundermar. Lastly, we'll swing by Kirthaven, and seek out any Earthen Ring in the area." He cranes his head in a nod. "Barring that, you and I'll hit every bit of sundered land in the bloody Highlands 'till we find some sign of him. Mm?"

Sandy smiles at Dane, before jumping at the display of strength from the gryphon. Good job Thoras, that was very intimidating! Sandy takes Dane's hand and pushes on his non-prosthetic leg to get on the gryphon with his friend. "Seriously, we're going to go see newlyweds?" Sandy's eyes widen. "I don't have a wedding gift!" Sandy nods. "Yes, let's do this! He has to be somewhere," He smiles, a little sadly. "Hopefully he's happy wherever we're going to find him, even if he's forgotten about me, somehow."

Atley shakes his head. "He's not forgotten about you, Sanders. You've kept him in your heart, haven't you? He'll have kept you in his." He spurs Thoras on, and those wings expand again, but this time, it's not for show. They thunderous flap and abruptly send them skyward as Thoras issues an ear-splitting shriek of triumph and jubilation at returning to his ancestral home. As they soar over the land, the Horde presence becomes clearer. Their seaside encampment is visibly fortified, and the space between it and Highbank is riddled with craters, siege engine wreckages, and ruined lands. The Twilight's Hammer's influence is noticeable as well. Their layered citadels to the northwest sit like a scab on the land. Their emplacements are still and quiet, but the Twilight Citadel stands like a loose nail. Isolated, and lightless. There are still pockets of floating earth and debris scattered throughout the Highlands, elevated by unworldly violet energies. The three of them close in on one such display, which seems to have sprung up in the middle of a Wildhammer village. Thoras lands with a whoosh, and a number of tattooed dwarves appear, some walking alongside or riding atop their own gryphons, their hair bright orange red. "Keegan Firebeard. These are his folk," Atley explains to Sandy, turning to the side.

Sandy nods silently at Dane's reassuring words, half-heartedly. Sandy looks at the ruined land. Was this somewhere he's brother used to live in? Is It all gone, now? Is he gone with it, or is he mourning all of his losses? Is it why he's been gone for so long? As they land, Sandy looks at the dwarves, with their bright red hair. At least, they look kind of like Fulmurar. Maybe some of them are family to him? "Do you want me to do the talking?" Sandy asks. "I can do the talking…" He pauses, staying put. "Will they accept to do the talking to me, instead of you, who they know already?"

Atley glances back and lifts a brow at Sandy, before he shakes his head. "They know Cobalt Company, of which you are a part." He dismounts and looks around before shifting his gaze back to Sandy with a firm nod. "I'll handle the introduction. You do the talking. Mm?" He raises his head and clears his throat. "Is Thane Firebeard about?" he asks of the assembled Wildhammer wing.

Sandy looks down at himself. Why didn't he take the tabard? He shoiuld have. He shyly answers. "A- All right…" Sandy waits patiently to know where to go. A slight buzzing sound seems to appear out of thin air around him. He swats at whatever that was.

A gruff-looking gryphon rider pads up to them, barefoot. "The Thane? He's just —" He's cut off by possibly the gruffest-looking dwarf present — Keegan Firebeard. His receding hairline makes the tattoos on his face stand out more than they normally would as he steps out of an intact Wildhammer dwelling, the perspiration on his skin making them shine. He stands fully armored in a shining gold and silver raiment. "Sir Atley!" Keegan fearlessly and casually raises a hand to pat the scowling Thoras on the head a few times as he circles the gryphon. Atley bows slowly, but Keegan swipes up his hand to shake it instead. "Marriage looks good on you, Thane," Atley growls with amusement. "Ach. All Fanny's doing… What brings ye' back to our neck of tha' hills? Where's tha' rest of yer' bunch?" Atley steps aside and gestures to Sandy. "This is Gausanders Spellbond. He's a member of the Company, and a friend, but we're not here on official business. We need your help, Thane." Keegan turns to eye Sandy up and down. A number of the other Wildhammer dwarves at Firebeard's Patrol look to the arrivals, scattered around them, some tending to their gryphons, others polishing their armor.

Sandy stands behind as Dane meets with his… Friend? They seem to be on friendly terms, at least. The wedding conversations make him smile. The buzzing comes back, a little lower pitched, this time. Sandy shakes his head, trying to make it go away. The wedding. Yes, thoughts about the wedding. At least some people find normalcy in this world of war. He's woken up from said thoughts as he hears his name. "Hello! Congratulations on the wedding. All the best!" He says, smiling. "We're looking for…" The noise is clearly not as high pitched anymore, Sandy frowns, trying to understand what kind of bug that could be. Almost sounding like words. Distracted, Sandy repeats the word-like sounds he hears instead of continuing his own sentence. "Listen, look…"

Keegan Firebeard stares at Sandy, dumbfounded. He briefly looks to Atley with a puzzled look in his eye. Atley turns to Sandy and furrows his brow, inclining his head. “Sanders?” he inquires warily, squinting at him.

"what?" Sandy says, then looks at Dane. "Yes, what's happening? What was I asking?" The priest shakes his hand at the side of his own face. "Sorry, bugs." The bugs aren't gone.

Atley takes a step closer to Sandy and squints, looking around him. “Wot’ ‘bugs?’” Keegan Firebeard clears his throat and exchanges look with another Wildhammer dwarf nearby before he shifts his attention back to Sandy. “Somethin’ ye need, laddie?”

"I don't know! I'm not a bug scientist, I don't know the ones they've got here!" Sandy laughs. He clears his throat and turns back to Keegan. "I'm looking for a Fulmurar. He disappeared… 6 years ago, now, I think? He's a shaman."

Atley studies Sandy for a moment before he turns back to Keegan as well. “Fulmurar’s a Wildhammer. A dwarf. He and Sanders are adoptive siblings,” he adds. Keegan nods slowly and takes a moment to digest Sandy now that more coherent words are being exchanged. “Fulmurar…” He looks to a nearby Wildhammer who merely shakes his head. “Six years is a long time laddie. Especially here. Can ye tell us anything more aboot’ him?”

"He's nice, protective…" Sandy covers his right ear with his hand, keeping the noises out. "He's… a redhead." He scratches the back of his neck. The noise still isn't blocked by his hand, it seems to be right inside his head. "He's… sorry, do you hear that?" The noise - the voice - resonates in his ear. "Sandy, look at me, ye fool," it says.

Keegan Firebeard slowly leans back and puffs out his bottom lip in a combination of surprise and confusion. Atley looks from Keegan to Sandy and squints, shaking his head. "Sanders… Sanders." He clasps a hand on his shoulder and gives him a firm shake, but otherwise stays quiet and attentive.

Sandy looks at Dane, his eyes wide in uncomprehension as he puts his hand on his shoulder. Soon, the voice stops. He remains silent for a few seconds. "I'm…" he tentatively says, the noises having stopped. "It's gone…"

Atley keeps his eyes narrowed in thought as he takes his hand off of Sandy’s shoulder. He briefly side-eyes Keegan with an air of apology, and the Thane gives a stiff nod. “Wot’s gone? Was it him? Your brother?”

Sandy shakes his head. "No, the… the bugs— the thing." He frowns in thought. Something doesn't seem to be adding up. He takes a step back, loocompletely confused. "It can't be him, right?"

Atley stares for a long moment before he shakes his head. "Wot' bugs, Sanders…?" he asks, glancing around. "There aren't any. Wot' are you hearing, mate?"

Sandy stares at Dane in silence for seconds that seem unending. His face doesn't move, but his eyes well up. He turns to Keegan and does a strange mix of a salute and a bow, with his head down but his hand above it. "I'm sorry, I'll… Please give me a second." Sandy storms away to a secluded area, hiding behind one of the nearby buildings.

Atley straightens up and frowns in thought with a glare, tonguing the inside of his cheek. He watches Sandy's salute-bow, eyes following the younger man as he storms off. His gaze shifts to Keegan, and he inclines his head with a grunt. "Beg pardon, Thane." Keegan nods slowly, also frowning, more so in confusion than anything else. Atley turns and trudges off after Sandy, looking around the corner of the building. He briefly glances over his shoulder before he marches over to him, slowly. A moment of silence is allowed to pass before he says, "Sanders."

Sandy rests against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He looks at Dane approaching. The young man shakes his head at Dane. "That can't be him, right?"

Atley regards him warily and turns his head to the side. He stops just a few feet short of Sandy and cinches the thumbs of his gauntlet into his belt. "I don't know wot' you're on about, Sanders…" he growls imploringly, voice softened, his brow knit, head lowered.

"The noise, the voice I heard…" Sandy says, whispering. "If that was him, that means… He's gone. And he can't be gone!"

Atley takes a step forward and raises one gauntlet off of his belt to firmly pat Sandy’s shoulder. “I’m still not certain of wot’ you’re talking about… But if you heard him, that means he’s not properly gone.” He shakes his head. “You heard him speaking to you?”

"I don't know," he shakes his head. "Maybe? Let me…" He turns to Dane, desperate for help. "Do you think I should focus on trying to hear him again?"

Atley pulls his hand back and studies Sandy for a long, contemplative moment before he nods once. "Aye. Try it," he begins, inclining his head. "I'll be here. Follow his voice, if you’ve got to.” A fiery-haired Wildhammer briefly pokes their head around the building's corner behind Atley, and after spotting the two, shrugs before pulling back and walking off.

"My old shadow priest teacher tought me to turn off voices," Sandy shakes his head. "Listening to one now it's… easier said than done." Sandy sits on the floor rubbing his eyes before sighing loudly. He looks at the dwarf, than raises an eyebrow at Dane. "Is that… someone you know?"

Atley studies Sandy for a time before he glances behind him and shakes his head. "No one I recognized. Likely just a Wildhammer seeing if we're all sorted." He moves to take a knee near Sandy, rubble and gravel crunching beneath his boots and leg guards. "I'll be here, Sanders. Do wot' you have to do."

Sandy sighs again, closing his eyes. He lets his head hang behind him and focuses. His shadowform flickers as he focuses on the voices he can hear, one by one. He startles suddenly. "Are ye ready ta listen ta me, now?" Fulmurar's voice rings in Sandy's ears. "I stopped tryin' ta speak earlier, because Keegan was goin' ta think ye were crazy." Sandy gets up immediately, repeatedly saying "No, no, no, no…" He stares at Dane. "It can't be him!"

Atley squints with unsubtle revulsion at the ritual, but his brow remains knit in concentration. He stands from his kneel and clasps Sandy on the shoulder with a heavy gauntlet. “Just listen, Sanders.”

Sandy stares at Dane with his eyes teary. He pauses for a long, long time, then looks away at the shade of his brother. A spirit he can see thanks to this ritual in Nagrand. For a long moment, he listens to Fulmurar, trying to put feelings of grief as far away as possible. Sandy sniffles from time to time. Finally, he turns to Dane again. "While coming back to Stormwind, he… he was ambushed by… by wild beasts," Sandy says, his voice oddly cracking on the last two words. Finally, his legs let go and he falls to the ground, hurting himself on the prosthetic. He whimpers in pain, before burying his face against the ground, sobbing silently.

Atley looks from Sandy to the invisible brother he can’t see. He side-eyes Sandy, and nods slowly as he listens, gauntlet still on his shoulder. His teeth clench as Sandy falls, and he observes his troubled friend for a moment before taking a knee beside him. Strong, armored arms wrap around Sandy and give him a single, all encompassing squeeze before they linger there, like steel walls of protection, to both defend and anchor him and anchor him. “… I am truly sorry, Sanders.” He growls lowly. A moment of silence passes between them, and Atley sits in it. “Wot’ does he tell you, now? Does he still care for you, then? Does he wish you well?” he inquires in that same growl but with a gentler tone, one of reassurance, of encouragement.

Sandy looks up in the direction of the ghost of Furmurar at the words of Dane. "Of course I de!" Fulmurar says scoffs. "Ye can tell yer friend nothin' can make me stop protectin' ye. I'm sorry I wasn't there" Sandy nods slowly at Dane. He then sits up, hugging his own legs in front of him. "Ye got ta tell me, though, Sandy… Why did ye lie about the orcs who killed me?" "I didn't lie!" he blurts out loud, suddenly.

Atley remains kneeling as he leans back to glance back and forth between Sandy and the nothingness he talks to with a slow pace. He knits his brow upon hearing Sandy’s defensive tone.

Sandy very briefly looks at Dane, then back at his invisible brother. "You don't understand…" Sandy bites on his thumb's fingernail, repressing a sob. Fulmurar pauses, looking at Sandy in silence, then at Dane.

Atley slightly shakes his head, still glaring intently. "Wot' didn't you lie about, Sanders?" he asks with his usual growl, though his town is overall neutral.

"Nothing," Sandy shakes his head, looking at the ground. Tears keep flowing down his face. "I…" he shakes his hand in Fulmurar's direction, as if to stop him from speaking. "It's… better if you don't know."

Atley looks from Sandy to Fulmurar, whom he still can't see. "Better that I don't know wot', Sanders? Wot's he telling you?" he asks, still kneeling.

Sandy facepalms, and takes the opportunity to wipe his tears with one hand. "It's… it wasn't wild beasts who killed Fulmurar…" Sandy almost painfully breathes in. "But I don't need to hate the orcs even more. "I-" He looks up at Dane, his brows furrowed but his eyes still overflowing. "I need my friends to tell me I shouldn't hate them still." The ghost of Fulmurar looks at his brother in concern. "Sandy…"

Atley furrows his brow and turns his head to the side. His gaze lowers, and he inhales slowly through his nose before he grunts. "It was the Dragonmaw then, was it?" he inquires, looking back up at Sandy.

"Aye," Fulmurar answers him. Sandy's gaze lowers again and he simply nods. "Aye," the human simply repeats.

Atley smacks his lips a few times. "I won't be the friend to tell you that you shouldn't hate the orcs, Sanders. But I will be the friend to tell you that lying about it'll not change the situation. Wot's been done is done." He shakes his head back and forth. "You've reached him, then. There's nothing malevolent about this. Nothing dark?"

"Does yer friend think I'm a’ undead ghost, or somethin', lad?" Fulmurar says, hands on his hips. Sandy sniffles and wipes his tears. "It's him, just… staying on Azeroth." Sandy listens to Fulmurar for a moment, his lower lip quivering. "He wants to stay a little longer. He's got someone else he needs to say goodbye to, and he wants… to stay until I get a little better." Sandy doesn't look like he's about to get better any time soon. Sandy mindlessly runs his fingers on the surface of the dirt around him.

Atley nods slowly. "Not all of us get a chance to say goodbye like this, Sanders," he says, the roughness of his growl audibly restrained. "I'd see you make the most of it." He glances at the space where he thinks Fulmurar is and nods before he looks back at Sandy. "We can arrange to have you stay a while in Thundermar, or p'raps even Kirthaven… if he can travel that distance, himself." He looks around at the ruins and shakes his head. "This is a forward post, at best." He pushes himself up and lowers a gauntlet to Sandy, offering him a hand. "Who else does he want to see, then?"

Sandy takes a look at Fulmurar, his eyes bloodshot red. "Is it a chance, if I now have lost all hopes that he's still alive, somewhere? It was better when I just didn't know." "Oy, lad, I'm still here ye know? I'm not leavin yer side any time soon," Fulmurar chuckles. "Ye don't have to act like yer old pal is dead-dead. At least as long as yer staying around here," he shrugs. Sandy nods at him, closing his eyes tight trying to stop himself from trying. He turns to Dane as he speaks, then back to Fulmurar. "Eglya Thunderweaver. She was… to be mrs. Stormraider before I died." Sandy's face contorts in pain. That's how he learns about his brother's personal life. Sandy storms away to anywhere there are buildings and people, unaware of where exactly Eglya would be. "My brother's secret fiancee. That's who," he blurts out.

Atley nods slowly and moves to say something, before his brows knit. He rises and marches off after Sandy. "Sanders. Hold —" he exclaims. "We're looking for the fiancée of your brother? We can find her. Wot' clan?" he asks, now fully aware that he's speaking to two people, not just the one he can see.

"T'was complicated," Fulmurar answers, as if Dane could hear him. "She's a Thundermar, I'm a Firebeard, her parents dinna want her ta marry outside her clan. T'was very romantic, ye see?" He sighs. "They accepted our love a little too late." Sandy is still walking past people, his face red, his eyes wet. "Thundermar. Where is that?" He turns to look at Dane.

Atley ‘ignores’ Fulmurar as he follows Sandy, giving an occasional nod to the nearby Wildhammer they pass. “Thundermar’s aways northwest. Not far. That where we’re going?”

"Yes, that's the clan of Eglya," Sandy says, almost sounding exasperated, as if Dane should know this information already. Fulmurar just said it.

Atley nods once. "We'll fly. Wait for me by Thoras — don't try to mount him, alone." The gryphon stands in the center of Firebeard's Patrol, sizing up other nearby gryphons, beak slightly parted. Atley marches over to Keegan to speak with him for a moment at a low volume.

Sandy reaches the gryphon and stands by his side, maybe a little closer than he should, his arms crossed. By the way he stands, looking of to the side, it's unclear if he's trying his best to contain his tears, or avoiding eye contact with his brother's ghost.

Thoras swings his head to the side to inspect Sandy shrewdly, one large green eye narrowing. The gryphon seems to be low on sympathy, and starts retracting his head, likely to screech in Sandy’s face — before Atley throws himself aboard the saddle. “Let’s bugger off, then,” he says, lowering a hand to Sandy, nodding to Keegan in farewell.

Sandy doesn't notice Thoras' menacing head move. He jumps on the mounts back after Dane, raising a curious eyebrow at Dane. What did he tell Keegan? "Wait, how are we going to-" He looks at Fulmurar. He doesn't need to get on the gryphon. "We'll see you there, I guess?" his voice cracks.

Atley leans back in his saddle with a short, brief grunt of inquiry, turning his head to the side as Sandy speaks before he stays there, seemingly waiting for Fulmurar's response.

"Aye," Fulmurar nods. Sady doesn't answer. He just nods, hoping Dane could feel it.

Atley lets out a small scoff of both disbelief and some subtle annoyance before he nods and spurs Thoras on. Massive wings expand on either side of them, and gusts of wind batter their faces as Thoras takes to the sky with an impatient chitter. They soar to the northwest, the landscape below alternating between untouched, rolling green moors, and the jagged, rocky disfigurations of the Twilight Hammer's influence. Thoras slows and circles Thundermar high in the air before making a gradual descent. The gryphon comes to a running stop in the center of the village as the sky begins to darken with evening's approach. Amber windows glow, embedded into the sides and fronts of the subterranean Wildhammer homes.

Sandy is silent during the short flight there. He holds onto Dane, the priest's grip tightening onto Dane's tabard. Sandy seems to be holding his breath. As they approach, Fulmurar waves over his brother a house, a little further away from the center of the town. Sandy taps on Dane's shoulder, then points at the small but well kept building.

Atley glances back with a grunt of inquiry and sees the indicated direction. Thoras pads over to the home. "This is it, then?" he asks, slowly dismounting, keeping a hand on Thoras' lower feathered neck. He shifts his gaze around, taking in Thundermar as they wait.

Sandy nods. He quickly follows Dane off the gryphon. He looks at the house's door, then at Fulmurar, then at Dane. His eyes are redder than Dane's ever seen him.

Atley calmly looks from Sandy, to the door, and then back to Sandy again. "Very well," he mutters quietly, stepping forward to rasp on the door with a gauntleted fist three solid times. As he waits, he raises another gauntlet to pat Sandy on the back, also three times.

Sandy waits, biting his lip. Fulmurar, mimicking Atley, ghostly pats Sandy's arm. It doesn't feel like anything, which is worse for Sandy than if he could have felt some ghostly energy. He bites his lip even more. A dark-skinned dwarven woman, with bright red hair and light blue tattoos opens the door. "Aye?" she says, frowning in confusion at the two strangers at the door. "Hi," Sandy answers back, quietly.

Atley faintly furrows his brow and inclines his head. “Miss Eglya. My name is Sir Dane Atley. My companion is Gausanders Spellbond,” he begins, crossing his arms over his chest, hands over his belt. “He’s the brother of Fulmurar.”

Eglya's gaze softens as Dane tells Eglya of Sandy's name. "Sandy, aye, of course," she nods. "Did ye… do ye know where he is? Fulmurar, I mean." Sandy shakes his head. "Yes," he answers. She looks confused at him. "He's… gone." Eglya breathes in, a look of utter confusion on her face. "And he told ye about me? Why haven't I seen him since… Why are ye telling me now?.. When did he…" Her eyes twinkle with tears. She shakes her head, settling on one final question. "How?" Sandy looks at Fulmurar. "Go ahead, she needs ta hear it." Sandy looks at Dane. "Where do I… even start?"

Atley inclines his head out of sympathy of Eglya’s distress. He uncrosses his hands and sets a gauntlet on Sandy’s shoulder. “From the beginning, mate.”

"Come on, lad, yer friend's right. Start from the beginnin'," Fulmurar says, an encouraging tone in his voice. "He's speaking to me right now," Sandy says, not starting from the beginning. Eglya looks at him worried and confused. "He died attacked by orcs, 6 years ago when he was travelling between here and Stormwind." Sandy sniffles. "It was an ambush." "How d'ye know all 'at?" Eglya asks, her voice breaking. "How can ye be speakin' with him right now, yer not a shaman. I'm a shaman and he never answered my call." "Aye, I did hear her call. Often, for all these years," Fulmurar looks down. "I think she just dinna really want to hear me back jus' yet." "I… took a potion, in Outland, that lets me see and hear ghosts," Sandy looks back at Dane for some kind of support. Just any support. He difficulty holds back his tears as he turns back to Eglya. "He says he tried to speak to you, but you weren't ready to hear him."

Atley keeps his gauntlet on Sandy's shoulder as he looks to Eglya. "He is here, now. With us," Atley confirms. "I can neither see nor hear him, but he directed us here to visit you." He takes a brief pause. "He still cares for you greatly. Even in death. And wishes you and Sanders peace."

As the two men speak, Eglya's eyes fill with tears. "Ye…" She takes a deep breath. "Thank ye." She wipes away her tears, but they keep coming back. "Please come on in, I'd love ta get to know ye." She moves away from the door. She turns to look at Dane. "I'm sorry… I know who Sandy is but I think I'm missin' somethin'. Who are ye?"

Atley slowly removes his helmet. "I am Sir Dane Atley," he explains, prepared to duck, if need be, to enter the dwarf home. He does usher Sandy in first, ahead of him. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Thank you, right," Sandy says, entering the home first. "I'm glad to meet you," he says, is voice low." "And me ye," Eglya smiles, allowing the two humans to enter.

Atley steps in after Sandy.