Gazam is happy to tell the story to any who will listen...
Many of the Deadwolf clan served at sea. The pay was crap, but for a chance at honor, who wouldn't go? Gazam was no different than those before him. But until you're tested, how could you know if your worthy of glory?
The destroyer Sunburst rode low on the water. It was full of weapons, gunpowder and shot. Low and slow. While nominally at peace with Orgrimmar, the humans had no business landing troops on the coast. Command wanted the waters south of Ratchet free of their meddling. It always pays to have the goblins owe you one.
From high in the mast, Gazam could see Sunburst. He shouted down it's disposition. The faster Felhammer, lightly fitted and rigged for pursuit, closed in. High on the wind, pinning the slower ship against the rocky coast. Magefire rained on the water, but the heavy cannons of the Horde ship blazed on the prow. The force of the shot shook the ship, slowed it in the water.
Sunburst was limping, and so the Felhammer closed in. Gazam tucked a belaying pin in his belt and grabbed a heavy chain and hook. As the two ships scraped amidships, so close was their passing, Gazam heaved the chain and hook into the rigging of the Alliance craft. Other hooks were flung, arrows and bolts and spears filed the air. The ships were fastened together.
A squadron of heavily armed orc warriors stormed across jumping the distance and hewing through the paladins protecting the Sunburst. A purple robed mage began raining more fire on the deck of the Felhammer. The screams of peons and soldiers alike threatened to turn the tide. Gazam threw his belaying pin, interrupting the mage. The orc shamans used the respite and flung the human wizard high into the air, but he, no she floated down landing on the crowsnest. A flash of light and the mage was gone.
They plundered the Sunburst of its weapons, bound no doubt for the Alliance rebels on Kalimdor. An explosion in the powderhold sent the destroyer to a shallow grave. The crew of the Felhammer cheered and sailed back for Orgrimmar.
It was on his return, his lucky belaying pin retrieved and in hand, that Gazam’s deeds turned sour. He rushed back to his family farm, pockets stuffed with booty and a belly full of heroic tales and glory. Smoke on the horizon sank his bright mood and he ran hard.
Everyone dead, livestock slaughtered, his family reaved. All around, the heavy footprints of horses. Shod hoofprints.Neighbours were trying to put out the fires. Centaurs, they cried, and often was the case that those people tried to recover land from the Horde. But they did not shoe their hooves.
On a far hilltop, a flash of purple. Someone stood, watching Gazam. He watched back, his heart filling with hate. Though it was too far to actually see, in his heart he imagines the female human mage gulped once in disquiet before she opened a portal back to her homeland.
His dark heart smoldered, burned with a lust for blood. He would need allies to breach the human capital, to see his vengeance wrought so deep in the human seat of power. And he knew where he could find them. Skull Rock.
