He strode through the halls of Ironforge, looking as menacing as most death knights do. He wore armor of the darkest black, though no longer adorned with the skulls and their dreadful grins. The armor, lined with silver, bore the markings of his family name. Glowember.
With each step he took, the floor lined with frost, leaving behind an icy footprint as he walked down the corridors of the ancient dwarven city. There was no wind down here, and as a matter of fact, had a musty heaviness to it. Yet the white hair of the death knight, let loose from his helmet, swayed as though a breeze swept by.
He kept his gaze straight, his eyes never straying from the path set before him. Distractions only cost him precious time. And then it happened. The menacing death knight, leaving a path of frost behind him, tripped and fell.
Landing with a clatter loud enough to wake the dead, he shot an angry glance at the object that caused him to fall. The figure stood, rubbing his head and his hind quarters at the same time, though not in a very coordinated manner. The figure stood slightly shorter than a dwarf, had long white hair and a beard to match. He turned to look at the death knight, and realizing what had just happened, ran over to help him to his feet.
The gnome reached the death knight, running at a full sprint. Unable to stop himself in time, the two collided with a thump and rolled over. Swearing and cursing louder than a drunk dwarf, the death knight finally managed to detangle himself from the gnome and get to his feet. Shaking his head, the death knight started off again, albeit a bit quicker.
The gnome, seeing the death knight walking away, gathered his oversized red robes about him and ran as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him. He caught up to the death knight and walked beside him, huffing and puffing heavily. He had to take two extra steps to the larger human’s one step, but was determined to keep up.
“Could you please slow down! If you walk too fast, I’ll never be able to keep up with you!” The gnome stated, in between breaths.
“That’s the point.” Khelandros didn’t waste any time.
Khelandros kept up the pace, all of the way to the gryphon master, the little gnome chatting up a storm. There were points in there that the gnome sounded like he was either talking too fast, or in a different language, but he thought he heard a name in there somewhere.
“So what’s your name, mister?” The gnome asked as he watched the death knight pay the flight master for his trip.
Khelandros never answered. He just hopped on one of the many griffons and took the sky, as fast as he could. He soared out through the great halls of the dwarven city and out into the frigid open sky of Dun Morough. Glad to be free of the chattering gnome, Khelandros sat back and relaxed, enjoying the peace and quiet of the trip.
“So um… where are we going?”
Khelandros’ eyes shot open. He looked down in horror to see the gnome dangling precariously from the leg of the griffon. His eyes, wide with fear or excitement, were looking straight ahead. He tried to get the griffon to land, swearing and cursing, pulling on the reins, but to no avail.
“You know, they’re very stubborn. They won’t deviate from their course for any reason.”
Khelandros knew that there was no getting past it. He would have to help the gnome. And by helping the gnome, he knew, that he would never be rid of him. With a deep sigh, Khelandros lowered his hand, grabbed the gnome by his oversized red robes, and flung him up onto the griffon into the spot in front of him.
“So what did you say your name was again?” Khelandros asked.
“Conundrum! I’m a warlock! Sowherearegoing? Iveneverbeenonanadventurebefore…” The gnome prattled on for the rest of the flight to Southshore.