I have been out in the field so long that I have decided that I should start writing stuff down to combat the loneliness sometimes. Sure, I have my comrades in arms, but I truly do not have that much in common with them – they have families and loved ones while I have nothing other than my pet. I don’t think I’m a bad looking fellow nor do I think that I am drop-dead gorgeous. I’m just a Blood Elf and a Ranger because my magical ability doesn’t rank high enough to start a simple campfire.
I’m just another Sindorei orphan kid that has grown up and moved on with my life like so many others. There is really nothing special about me. I’m not a hero, I’m not an officer in the corps nor am I some secret noble that is hiding his nobility. Ah well, just being a Ranger is enough for me and I know that I will be happy if I ignore all the criteria in Silvermoon City to be one of the special people. There are times that I truly hate going to Silvermoon because I usually stand around and just smile and nod at people. I’m not important or impressive enough to warrant that much attention from the citizenry.
I guess that I should mention my name, it’s Alexander Wynterstorm. I don’t know where the surname came from other than the fact that I was dropped off at the orphanage in a winter storm with a few other babies – we all got stuck with the same surname because the matron on duty was too tired to think of any others. So, there are six of us with that name and we all arrived within one hour at the steps. It must have been “baby drop-off day” or something because the matrons say that there are usually one or two babies dropped off most often, not a group of babies like I was with. My thought is that the matron wasn’t paying attention to the door and we all kind of stacked up there. I think that someone might have noticed if a wagon pulled up in front of the orphanage and the carter started plopping babies out on the steps in a group? Wouldn’t you think so?
When I was a kid, I would hope that someone would come along and adopt me and then tell me that they were really my parents and that they hadn’t meant to leave me at the orphanage – they would then shower me with all kinds of gifts and clothes and we’d live in this big glorious house in Silvermoon with servants and stuff. Yeah, I had a big imagination back then, at least I did think about nice things back then. Well, let’s jus say that I wasn’t ever adopted, and I blame it on my cursed red hair – no one wants a redheaded elf, they want blondes, brunettes or even brown-haired ones – redheaded elves are just too common.
One older kid told me that he used to have red hair and he shaved his head and it all came back in as black as night. Okay, if that’s how it’s done, it’s worth a go – so, I shaved my head. Got my backside warmed up by the matron and was forbidden to be seen by any of the adoptive people that were visiting. No, my hair came back in just as red as it had been, and it just seemed like there was more of it than ever. Lesson learned “Don’t listen to older kids” about how things are done. Yeah, I tried the dying thing too and all I got out of that was some strange orange hair with green stripes in it and a bunch of blisters on my head and…another backside warmup.
I went through all the schooling and the only thing that I seemed to be reasonable with was skipping classes. I did well with reading and writing and I did learn to cypher a bit, just so I could keep up with my winnings at cards. Yes, I would have been a great candidate for Murder Row if I hadn’t had an aptitude for hunting and fighting. I tried the magic thing and the only thing I did was to burn up a bookshelf and set the instructors robes on fire more than once. I didn’t last long in that area nor did I last long trying to apprentice to one of the magistrates, seems my mouth was more prone to go off before my brain got in gear to control it.
On my birthday I was given a few gifts, a bag to carry my belongings and showed the door with a note to report to the Rangers training area. Okay, it wasn’t snowing or anything like that when I left so I wasn’t exactly in a hurry to make my way there. So, off I went to the Row to try my hand at gambling with thoughts of amassing a large fortune and being able to support myself in a manner that would make the kids at the orphanage envious. Let’s just say that it didn’t happen – I woke up naked, all my belongings gone and a guard poking me rudely with a blunted spear. Yes, I got rolled and robbed my first night out of the orphanage. The guard threw his cloak over my shoulders and escorted me to the training area – my letter was gone and I had no proof of identity, however, I was able to convince them that I was the Alexander Wynterstorm that the orphanage matrons had written about and , my letter had been stolen with everything else that I had. At least I got a recruit uniform, a place to sleep and some food – the training would start on the morrow.
((obviously, to be continued))